#a best computer lab for your kid

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Disenshittify or Die”

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Last weekend, I traveled to Las Vegas for Defcon 32, where I had the immense privilege of giving a solo talk on Track 1, entitled "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

This was a followup to last year's talk, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification," a talk that kicked off a lot of international interest in my analysis of platform decay ("enshittification"):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rimtaSgGz_4

The Defcon organizers have earned a restful week or two, and that means that the video of my talk hasn't yet been posted to Defcon's Youtube channel, so in the meantime, I thought I'd post a lightly edited version of my speech crib. If you're headed to Burning Man, you can hear me reprise this talk at Palenque Norte (7&E); I'm kicking off their lecture series on Tuesday, Aug 27 at 1PM.

==

What the fuck happened to the old, good internet?

I mean, sure, our bosses were a little surveillance-happy, and they were usually up for sharing their data with the NSA, and whenever there was a tossup between user security and growth, it was always YOLO time.

But Google Search used to work. Facebook used to show you posts from people you followed. Uber used to be cheaper than a taxi and pay the driver more than a cabbie made. Amazon used to sell products, not Shein-grade self-destructing dropshipped garbage from all-consonant brands. Apple used to defend your privacy, rather than spying on you with your no-modifications-allowed Iphone.

There was a time when you searching for an album on Spotify would get you that album – not a playlist of insipid AI-generated covers with the same name and art.

Microsoft used to sell you software – sure, it was buggy – but now they just let you access apps in the cloud, so they can watch how you use those apps and strip the features you use the most out of the basic tier and turn them into an upcharge.

What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck happened?!

I’m talking about enshittification.

Here’s what enshittification looks like from the outside: First, you see a company that’s being good to its end users. Google puts the best search results at the top; Facebook shows you a feed of posts from people and groups you followl; Uber charges small dollars for a cab; Amazon subsidizes goods and returns and shipping and puts the best match for your product search at the top of the page.

That’s stage one, being good to end users. But there’s another part of this stage, call it stage 1a). That’s figuring out how to lock in those users.

There’s so many ways to lock in users.

If you’re Facebook, the users do it for you. You joined Facebook because there were people there you wanted to hang out with, and other people joined Facebook to hang out with you.

That’s the old “network effects” in action, and with network effects come “the collective action problem." Because you love your friends, but goddamn are they a pain in the ass! You all agree that FB sucks, sure, but can you all agree on when it’s time to leave?

No way.

Can you agree on where to go next?

Hell no.

You’re there because that’s where the support group for your rare disease hangs out, and your bestie is there because that’s where they talk with the people in the country they moved away from, then there’s that friend who coordinates their kid’s little league car pools on FB, and the best dungeon master you know isn’t gonna leave FB because that’s where her customers are.

So you’re stuck, because even though FB use comes at a high cost – your privacy, your dignity and your sanity – that’s still less than the switching cost you’d have to bear if you left: namely, all those friends who have taken you hostage, and whom you are holding hostage

Now, sometimes companies lock you in with money, like Amazon getting you to prepay for a year’s shipping with Prime, or to buy your Audible books on a monthly subscription, which virtually guarantees that every shopping search will start on Amazon, after all, you’ve already paid for it.

Sometimes, they lock you in with DRM, like HP selling you a printer with four ink cartridges filled with fluid that retails for more than $10,000/gallon, and using DRM to stop you from refilling any of those ink carts or using a third-party cartridge. So when one cart runs dry, you have to refill it or throw away your investment in the remaining three cartridges and the printer itself.

Sometimes, it’s a grab bag:

You can’t run your Ios apps without Apple hardware;

you can’t run your Apple music, books and movies on anything except an Ios app;

your iPhone uses parts pairing – DRM handshakes between replacement parts and the main system – so you can’t use third-party parts to fix it; and

every OEM iPhone part has a microscopic Apple logo engraved on it, so Apple can demand that the US Customs and Border Service seize any shipment of refurb Iphone parts as trademark violations.

Think Different, amirite?

Getting you locked in completes phase one of the enshittification cycle and signals the start of phase two: making things worse for you to make things better for business customers.

For example, a platform might poison its search results, like Google selling more and more of its results pages to ads that are identified with lighter and lighter tinier and tinier type.

Or Amazon selling off search results and calling it an “ad” business. They make $38b/year on this scam. The first result for your search is, on average, 29% more expensive than the best match for your search. The first row is 25% more expensive than the best match. On average, the best match for your search is likely to be found seventeen places down on the results page.

Other platforms sell off your feed, like Facebook, which started off showing you the things you asked to see, but now the quantum of content from the people you follow has dwindled to a homeopathic residue, leaving a void that Facebook fills with things that people pay to show you: boosted posts from publishers you haven’t subscribed to, and, of course, ads.

Now at this point you might be thinking ‘sure, if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.'

Bullshit!

Bull.

Shit.

The people who buy those Google ads? They pay more every year for worse ad-targeting and more ad-fraud

Those publishers paying to nonconsensually cram their content into your Facebook feed? They have to do that because FB suppresses their ability to reach the people who actually subscribed to them

The Amazon sellers with the best match for your query have to outbid everyone else just to show up on the first page of results. It costs so much to sell on Amazon that between 45-51% of every dollar an independent seller brings in has to be kicked up to Don Bezos and the Amazon crime family. Those sellers don’t have the kind of margins that let them pay 51% They have to raise prices in order to avoid losing money on every sale.

"But wait!" I hear you say!

[Come on, say it!]

"But wait! Things on Amazon aren’t more expensive that things at Target, or Walmart, or at a mom and pop store, or direct from the manufacturer.

"How can sellers be raising prices on Amazon if the price at Amazon is the same as at is everywhere else?"

[Any guesses?!]

That’s right, they charge more everywhere. They have to. Amazon binds its sellers to a policy called “most favored nation status,” which says they can’t charge more on Amazon than they charge elsewhere, including direct from their own factory store.

So every seller that wants to sell on Amazon has to raise their prices everywhere else.

Now, these sellers are Amazon’s best customers. They’re paying for the product, and they’re still getting screwed.

Paying for the product doesn’t fill your vapid boss’s shriveled heart with so much joy that he decides to stop trying to think of ways to fuck you over.

Look at Apple. Remember when Apple offered every Ios user a one-click opt out for app-based surveillance? And 96% of users clicked that box?

(The other four percent were either drunk or Facebook employees or drunk Facebook employees.)

That cost Facebook at least ten billion dollars per year in lost surveillance revenue?

I mean, you love to see it.

But did you know that at the same time Apple started spying on Ios users in the same way that Facebook had been, for surveillance data to use to target users for its competing advertising product?

Your Iphone isn’t an ad-supported gimme. You paid a thousand fucking dollars for that distraction rectangle in your pocket, and you’re still the product. What’s more, Apple has rigged Ios so that you can’t mod the OS to block its spying.

If you’re not not paying for the product, you’re the product, and if you are paying for the product, you’re still the product.

Just ask the farmers who are expected to swap parts into their own busted half-million dollar, mission-critical tractors, but can’t actually use those parts until a technician charges them $200 to drive out to the farm and type a parts pairing unlock code into their console.

John Deere’s not giving away tractors. Give John Deere a half mil for a tractor and you will be the product.

Please, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Please! Stop saying ‘if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.’

OK, OK, so that’s phase two of enshittification.

Phase one: be good to users while locking them in.

Phase two: screw the users a little to you can good to business customers while locking them in.

Phase three: screw everybody and take all the value for yourself. Leave behind the absolute bare minimum of utility so that everyone stays locked into your pile of shit.

Enshittification: a tragedy in three acts.

That’s what enshittification looks like from the outside, but what’s going on inside the company? What is the pathological mechanism? What sci-fi entropy ray converts the excellent and useful service into a pile of shit?

That mechanism is called twiddling. Twiddling is when someone alters the back end of a service to change how its business operates, changing prices, costs, search ranking, recommendation criteria and other foundational aspects of the system.

Digital platforms are a twiddler’s utopia. A grocer would need an army of teenagers with pricing guns on rollerblades to reprice everything in the building when someone arrives who’s extra hungry.

Whereas the McDonald’s Investments portfolio company Plexure advertises that it can use surveillance data to predict when an app user has just gotten paid so the seller can tack an extra couple bucks onto the price of their breakfast sandwich.

And of course, as the prophet William Gibson warned us, ‘cyberspace is everting.' With digital shelf tags, grocers can change prices whenever they feel like, like the grocers in Norway, whose e-ink shelf tags change the prices 2,000 times per day.

Every Uber driver is offered a different wage for every job. If a driver has been picky lately, the job pays more. But if the driver has been desperate enough to grab every ride the app offers, the pay goes down, and down, and down.

The law professor Veena Dubal calls this ‘algorithmic wage discrimination.' It’s a prime example of twiddling.

Every youtuber knows what it’s like to be twiddled. You work for weeks or months, spend thousands of dollars to make a video, then the algorithm decides that no one – not your own subscribers, not searchers who type in the exact name of your video – will see it.

Why? Who knows? The algorithm’s rules are not public.

Because content moderation is the last redoubt of security through obscurit: they can’t tell you what the como algorithm is downranking because then you’d cheat.

Youtube is the kind of shitty boss who docks every paycheck for all the rules you’ve broken, but won’t tell you what those rules were, lest you figure out how to break those rules next time without your boss catching you.

Twiddling can also work in some users’ favor, of course. Sometimes platforms twiddle to make things better for end users or business customers.

For example, Emily Baker-White from Forbes revealed the existence of a back-end feature that Tiktok’s management can access they call the “heating tool.”

When a manager applies the heating toll to a performer’s account, that performer’s videos are thrust into the feeds of millions of users, without regard to whether the recommendation algorithm predicts they will enjoy that video.

Why would they do this? Well, here’s an analogy from my boyhood I used to go to this traveling fair that would come to Toronto at the end of every summer, the Canadian National Exhibition. If you’ve been to a fair like the Ex, you know that you can always spot some guy lugging around a comedically huge teddy bear.

Nominally, you win that teddy bear by throwing five balls in a peach-basket, but to a first approximation, no one has ever gotten five balls to stay in that peach-basket.

That guy “won” the teddy bear when a carny on the midway singled him out and said, "fella, I like your face. Tell you what I’m gonna do: You get just one ball in the basket and I’ll give you this keychain, and if you amass two keychains, I’ll let you trade them in for one of these galactic-scale teddy-bears."

That’s how the guy got his teddy bear, which he now has to drag up and down the midway for the rest of the day.

Why the hell did that carny give away the teddy bear? Because it turns the guy into a walking billboard for the midway games. If that dopey-looking Judas Goat can get five balls into a peach basket, then so can you.

Except you can’t.

Tiktok’s heating tool is a way to give away tactical giant teddy bears. When someone in the TikTok brain trust decides they need more sports bros on the platform, they pick one bro out at random and make him king for the day, heating the shit out of his account.

That guy gets a bazillion views and he starts running around on all the sports bro forums trumpeting his success: *I am the Louis Pasteur of sports bro influencers!"

The other sports bros pile in and start retooling to make content that conforms to the idiosyncratic Tiktok format. When they fail to get giant teddy bears of their own, they assume that it’s because they’re doing Tiktok wrong, because they don’t know about the heating tool.

But then comes the day when the TikTok Star Chamber decides they need to lure in more astrologers, so they take the heat off that one lucky sports bro, and start heating up some lucky astrologer.

Giant teddy bears are all over the place: those Uber drivers who were boasting to the NYT ten years ago about earning $50/hour? The Substackers who were rolling in dough? Joe Rogan and his hundred million dollar Spotify payout? Those people are all the proud owners of giant teddy bears, and they’re a steal.

Because every dollar they get from the platform turns into five dollars worth of free labor from suckers who think they just internetting wrong.

Giant teddy bears are just one way of twiddling. Platforms can play games with every part of their business logic, in highly automated ways, that allows them to quickly and efficiently siphon value from end users to business customers and back again, hiding the pea in a shell game conducted at machine speeds, until they’ve got everyone so turned around that they take all the value for themselves.

That’s the how: How the platforms do the trick where they are good to users, then lock users in, then maltreat users to be good to business customers, then lock in those business customers, then take all the value for themselves.

So now we know what is happening, and how it is happening, all that’s left is why it’s happening.

Now, on the one hand, the why is pretty obvious. The less value that end-users and business customers capture, the more value there is left to divide up among the shareholders and the executives.

That’s why, but it doesn’t tell you why now. Companies could have done this shit at any time in the past 20 years, but they didn’t. Or at least, the successful ones didn’t. The ones that turned themselves into piles of shit got treated like piles of shit. We avoided them and they died.

Remember Myspace? Yahoo Search? Livejournal? Sure, they’re still serving some kind of AI slop or programmatic ad junk if you hit those domains, but they’re gone.

And there’s the clue: It used to be that if you enshittified your product, bad things happened to your company. Now, there are no consequences for enshittification, so everyone’s doing it.

Let’s break that down: What stops a company from enshittifying?

There are four forces that discipline tech companies. The first one is, obviously, competition.

If your customers find it easy to leave, then you have to worry about them leaving

Many factors can contribute to how hard or easy it is to depart a platform, like the network effects that Facebook has going for it. But the most important factor is whether there is anywhere to go.

Back in 2012, Facebook bought Insta for a billion dollars. That may seem like chump-change in these days of eleven-digit Big Tech acquisitions, but that was a big sum in those innocent days, and it was an especially big sum to pay for Insta. The company only had 13 employees, and a mere 25 million registered users.

But what mattered to Zuckerberg wasn’t how many users Insta had, it was where those users came from.

[Does anyone know where those Insta users came from?]

That’s right, they left Facebook and joined Insta. They were sick of FB, even though they liked the people there, they hated creepy Zuck, they hated the platform, so they left and they didn’t come back.

So Zuck spent a cool billion to recapture them, A fact he put in writing in a midnight email to CFO David Ebersman, explaining that he was paying over the odds for Insta because his users hated him, and loved Insta. So even if they quit Facebook (the platform), they would still be captured Facebook (the company).

Now, on paper, Zuck’s Instagram acquisition is illegal, but normally, that would be hard to stop, because you’d have to prove that he bought Insta with the intention of curtailing competition.

But in this case, Zuck tripped over his own dick: he put it in writing.

But Obama’s DoJ and FTC just let that one slide, following the pro-monopoly policies of Reagan, Bush I, Clinton and Bush II, and setting an example that Trump would follow, greenlighting gigamergers like the catastrophic, incestuous Warner-Discovery marriage.

Indeed, for 40 years, starting with Carter, and accelerating through Reagan, the US has encouraged monopoly formation, as an official policy, on the grounds that monopolies are “efficient.”

If everyone is using Google Search, that’s something we should celebrate. It means they’ve got the very best search and wouldn’t it be perverse to spend public funds to punish them for making the best product?

But as we all know, Google didn’t maintain search dominance by being best. They did it by paying bribes. More than 20 billion per year to Apple alone to be the default Ios search, plus billions more to Samsung, Mozilla, and anyone else making a product or service with a search-box on it, ensuring that you never stumble on a search engine that’s better than theirs.

Which, in turn, ensured that no one smart invested big in rival search engines, even if they were visibly, obviously superior. Why bother making something better if Google’s buying up all the market oxygen before it can kindle your product to life?

Facebook, Google, Microsoft, Amazon – they’re not “making things” companies, they’re “buying things” companies, taking advantage of official tolerance for anticompetitive acquisitions, predatory pricing, market distorting exclusivity deals and other acts specifically prohibited by existing antitrust law.

Their goal is to become too big to fail, because that makes them too big to jail, and that means they can be too big to care.

Which is why Google Search is a pile of shit and everything on Amazon is dropshipped garbage that instantly disintegrates in a cloud of offgassed volatile organic compounds when you open the box.

Once companies no longer fear losing your business to a competitor, it’s much easier for them to treat you badly, because what’re you gonna do?

Remember Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator in those old SNL sketches? “We don’t care. We don’t have to. We’re the phone company.”

Competition is the first force that serves to discipline companies and the enshittificatory impulses of their leadership, and we just stopped enforcing competition law.

It takes a special kind of smooth-brained asshole – that is, an establishment economist – to insist that the collapse of every industry from eyeglasses to vitamin C into a cartel of five or fewer companies has nothing to do with policies that officially encouraged monopolization.

It’s like we used to put down rat poison and we didn’t have a rat problem. Then these dickheads convinced us that rats were good for us and we stopped putting down rat poison, and now rats are gnawing our faces off and they’re all running around saying, "Who’s to say where all these rats came from? Maybe it was that we stopped putting down poison, but maybe it’s just the Time of the Rats. The Great Forces of History bearing down on this moment to multiply rats beyond all measure!"

Antitrust didn’t slip down that staircase and fall spine-first on that stiletto: they stabbed it in the back and then they pushed it.

And when they killed antitrust, they also killed regulation, the second force that disciplines companies. Regulation is possible, but only when the regulator is more powerful than the regulated entities. When a company is bigger than the government, it gets damned hard to credibly threaten to punish that company, no matter what its sins.

That’s what protected IBM for all those years when it had its boot on the throat of the American tech sector. Do you know, the DOJ fought to break up IBM in the courts from 1970-1982, and that every year, for 12 consecutive years, IBM spent more on lawyers to fight the USG than the DOJ Antitrust Division spent on all the lawyers fighting every antitrust case in the entire USA?

IBM outspent Uncle Sam for 12 years. People called it “Antitrust’s Vietnam.” All that money paid off, because by 1982, the president was Ronald Reagan, a man whose official policy was that monopolies were “efficient." So he dropped the case, and Big Blue wriggled off the hook.

It’s hard to regulate a monopolist, and it’s hard to regulate a cartel. When a sector is composed of hundreds of competing companies, they compete. They genuinely fight with one another, trying to poach each others’ customers and workers. They are at each others’ throats.

It’s hard enough for a couple hundred executives to agree on anything. But when they’re legitimately competing with one another, really obsessing about how to eat each others’ lunches, they can’t agree on anything.

The instant one of them goes to their regulator with some bullshit story, about how it’s impossible to have a decent search engine without fine-grained commercial surveillance; or how it’s impossible to have a secure and easy to use mobile device without a total veto over which software can run on it; or how it’s impossible to administer an ISP’s network unless you can slow down connections to servers whose owners aren’t paying bribes for “premium carriage"; there’s some *other company saying, “That’s bullshit”

“We’ve managed it! Here’s our server logs, our quarterly financials and our customer testimonials to prove it.”

100 companies are a rabble, they're a mob. They can’t agree on a lobbying position. They’re too busy eating each others’ lunch to agree on how to cater a meeting to discuss it.

But let those hundred companies merge to monopoly, absorb one another in an incestuous orgy, turn into five giant companies, so inbred they’ve got a corporate Habsburg jaw, and they become a cartel.

It’s easy for a cartel to agree on what bullshit they’re all going to feed their regulator, and to mobilize some of the excess billions they’ve reaped through consolidation, which freed them from “wasteful competition," sp they can capture their regulators completely.

You know, Congress used to pass federal consumer privacy laws? Not anymore.

The last time Congress managed to pass a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988: The Video Privacy Protection Act. That’s a law that bans video-store clerks from telling newspapers what VHS cassettes you take home. In other words, it regulates three things that have effectively ceased to exist.

The threat of having your video rental history out there in the public eye was not the last or most urgent threat the American public faced, and yet, Congress is deadlocked on passing a privacy law.

Tech companies’ regulatory capture involves a risible and transparent gambit, that is so stupid, it’s an insult to all the good hardworking risible transparent ruses out there.

Namely, they claim that when they violate your consumer, privacy or labor rights, It’s not a crime, because they do it with an app.

Algorithmic wage discrimination isn’t illegal wage theft: we do it with an app.

Spying on you from asshole to appetite isn’t a privacy violation: we do it with an app.

And Amazon’s scam search tool that tricks you into paying 29% more than the best match for your query? Not a ripoff. We do it with an app.

Once we killed competition – stopped putting down rat poison – we got cartels – the rats ate our faces. And the cartels captured their regulators – the rats bought out the poison factory and shut it down.

So companies aren’t constrained by competition or regulation.

But you know what? This is tech, and tech is different.IIt’s different because it’s flexible. Because our computers are Turing-complete universal von Neumann machines. That means that any enshittificatory alteration to a program can be disenshittified with another program.

Every time HP jacks up the price of ink , they invite a competitor to market a refill kit or a compatible cartridge.

When Tesla installs code that says you have to pay an extra monthly fee to use your whole battery, they invite a modder to start selling a kit to jailbreak that battery and charge it all the way up.

Lemme take you through a little example of how that works: Imagine this is a product design meeting for our company’s website, and the guy leading the meeting says “Dudes, you know how our KPI is topline ad-revenue? Well, I’ve calculated that if we make the ads just 20% more invasive and obnoxious, we’ll boost ad rev by 2%”

This is a good pitch. Hit that KPI and everyone gets a fat bonus. We can all take our families on a luxury ski vacation in Switzerland.

But here’s the thing: someone’s gonna stick their arm up – someone who doesn’t give a shit about user well-being, and that person is gonna say, “I love how you think, Elon. But has it occurred to you that if we make the ads 20% more obnoxious, then 40% of our users will go to a search engine and type 'How do I block ads?'"

I mean, what a nightmare! Because once a user does that, the revenue from that user doesn’t rise to 102%. It doesn’t stay at 100% It falls to zero, forever.

[Any guesses why?]

Because no user ever went back to the search engine and typed, 'How do I start seeing ads again?'

Once the user jailbreaks their phone or discovers third party ink, or develops a relationship with an independent Tesla mechanic who’ll unlock all the DLC in their car, that user is gone, forever.

Interoperability – that latent property bequeathed to us courtesy of Herrs Turing and Von Neumann and their infinitely flexible, universal machines – that is a serious check on enshittification.

The fact that Congress hasn’t passed a privacy law since 1988 Is countered, at least in part, by the fact that the majority of web users are now running ad-blockers, which are also tracker-blockers.

But no one’s ever installed a tracker-blocker for an app. Because reverse engineering an app puts in you jeopardy of criminal and civil prosecution under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with penalties of a 5-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

And violating its terms of service puts you in jeopardy under the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act of 1986, which is the law that Ronald Reagan signed in a panic after watching Wargames (seriously!).

Helping other users violate the terms of service can get you hit with a lawsuit for tortious interference with contract. And then there’s trademark, copyright and patent.

All that nonsense we call “IP,” but which Jay Freeman of Cydia calls “Felony Contempt of Business Model."

So if we’re still at that product planning meeting and now it’s time to talk about our app, the guy leading the meeting says, “OK, so we’ll make the ads in the app 20% more obnoxious to pull a 2% increase in topline ad rev?”

And that person who objected to making the website 20% worse? Their hand goes back up. Only this time they say “Why don’t we make the ads 100% more invasive and get a 10% increase in ad rev?"

Because it doesn't matter if a user goes to a search engine and types, “How do I block ads in an app." The answer is: you can't. So YOLO, enshittify away.

“IP” is just a euphemism for “any law that lets me reach outside my company’s walls to exert coercive control over my critics, competitors and customers,” and “app” is just a euphemism for “A web page skinned with the right IP so that protecting your privacy while you use it is a felony.”

Interop used to keep companies from enshittifying. If a company made its client suck, someone would roll out an alternative client, if they ripped a feature out and wanted to sell it back to you as a monthly subscription, someone would make a compatible plugin that restored it for a one-time fee, or for free.

To help people flee Myspace, FB gave them bots that you’d load with your login credentials. It would scrape your waiting Myspace messages and put ‘em in your FB inbox, and login to Myspace and paste your replies into your Myspace outbox. So you didn’t have to choose between the people you loved on Myspace, and Facebook, which launched with a promise never to spy on you. Remember that?!

Thanks to the metastasis of IP, all that is off the table today. Apple owes its very existence to iWork Suite, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote are file-compatible with Microsoft’s Word, Excel and Powerpoint. But make an IOS runtime that’ll play back the files you bought from Apple’s stores on other platforms, and they’ll nuke you til you glow.

FB wouldn’t have had a hope of breaking Myspace’s grip on social media without that scrape, but scrape FB today in support of an alternative client and their lawyers will bomb you til the rubble bounces.

Google scraped every website in the world to create its search index. Try and scrape Google and they’ll have your head on a pike.

When they did it, it was progress. When you do it to them, that’s piracy. Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

Because this handful of companies has so thoroughly captured their regulators, they can wield the power of the state against you when you try to break their grip on power, even as their own flagrant violations of our rights go unpunished. Because they do them with an app.

Tech lost its fear of competitin it neutralized the threat from regulators, and then put them in harness to attack new startups that might do unto them as they did unto the companies that came before them.

But even so, there was a force that kept our bosses in check That force was us. Tech workers.

Tech workers have historically been in short supply, which gave us power, and our bosses knew it.

To get us to work crazy hours, they came up with a trick. They appealed to our love of technology, and told us that we were heroes of a digital revolution, who would “organize the world’s information and make it useful,” who would “bring the world closer together.”

They brought in expert set-dressers to turn our workplaces into whimsical campuses with free laundry, gourmet cafeterias, massages, and kombucha, and a surgeon on hand to freeze our eggs so that we could work through our fertile years.

They convinced us that we were being pampered, rather than being worked like government mules.

This trick has a name. Fobazi Ettarh, the librarian-theorist, calls it “vocational awe, and Elon Musk calls it being “extremely hardcore.”

This worked very well. Boy did we put in some long-ass hours!

But for our bosses, this trick failed badly. Because if you miss your mother’s funeral and to hit a deadline, and then your boss orders you to enshittify that product, you are gonna experience a profound moral injury, which you are absolutely gonna make your boss share.

Because what are they gonna do? Fire you? They can’t hire someone else to do your job, and you can get a job that’s even better at the shop across the street.

So workers held the line when competition, regulation and interop failed.

But eventually, supply caught up with demand. Tech laid off 260,000 of us last year, and another 100,000 in the first half of this year.

You can’t tell your bosses to go fuck themselves, because they’ll fire your ass and give your job to someone who’ll be only too happy to enshittify that product you built.

That’s why this is all happening right now. Our bosses aren’t different. They didn’t catch a mind-virus that turned them into greedy assholes who don’t care about our users’ wellbeing or the quality of our products.

As far as our bosses have always been concerned, the point of the business was to charge the most, and deliver the least, while sharing as little as possible with suppliers, workers, users and customers. They’re not running charities.

Since day one, our bosses have shown up for work and yanked as hard as they can on the big ENSHITTIFICATION lever behind their desks, only that lever didn’t move much. It was all gummed up by competition, regulation, interop and workers.

As those sources of friction melted away, the enshittification lever started moving very freely.

Which sucks, I know. But think about this for a sec: our bosses, despite being wildly imperfect vessels capable of rationalizing endless greed and cheating, nevertheless oversaw a series of actually great products and services.

Not because they used to be better people, but because they used to be subjected to discipline.

So it follows that if we want to end the enshittocene, dismantle the enshitternet, and build a new, good internet that our bosses can’t wreck, we need to make sure that these constraints are durably installed on that internet, wound around its very roots and nerves. And we have to stand guard over it so that it can’t be dismantled again.

A new, good internet is one that has the positive aspects of the old, good internet: an ethic of technological self-determination, where users of technology (and hackers, tinkerers, startups and others serving as their proxies) can reconfigure and mod the technology they use, so that it does what they need it to do, and so that it can’t be used against them.

But the new, good internet will fix the defects of the old, good internet, the part that made it hard to use for anyone who wasn’t us. And hell yeah we can do that. Tech bosses swear that it’s impossible, that you can’t have a conversation friend without sharing it with Zuck; or search the web without letting Google scrape you down to the viscera; or have a phone that works reliably without giving Apple a veto over the software you install.

They claim that it’s a nonsense to even ponder this kind of thing. It’s like making water that’s not wet. But that’s bullshit. We can have nice things. We can build for the people we love, and give them a place that’s worth of their time and attention.

To do that, we have to install constraints.

The first constraint, remember, is competition. We’re living through a epochal shift in competition policy. After 40 years with antitrust enforcement in an induced coma, a wave of antitrust vigor has swept through governments all over the world. Regulators are stepping in to ban monopolistic practices, open up walled gardens, block anticompetitive mergers, and even unwind corrupt mergers that were undertaken on false pretenses.

Normally this is the place in the speech where I’d list out all the amazing things that have happened over the past four years. The enforcement actions that blocked companies from becoming too big to care, and that scared companies away from even trying.

Like Wiz, which just noped out of the largest acquisition offer in history, turning down Google’s $23b cashout, and deciding to, you know, just be a fucking business that makes money by producing a product that people want and selling it at a competitive price.

Normally, I’d be listing out FTC rulemakings that banned noncompetes nationwid. Or the new merger guidelines the FTC and DOJ cooked up, which – among other things – establish that the agencies should be considering whether a merger will negatively impact privacy.

I had a whole section of this stuff in my notes, a real victory lap, but I deleted it all this week.

[Can anyone guess why?]

That’s right! This week, Judge Amit Mehta, ruling for the DC Circuit of these United States of America, In the docket 20-3010 a case known as United States v. Google LLC, found that “Google is a monopolist, and it has acted as one to maintain its monopoly," and ordered Google and the DOJ to propose a schedule for a remedy, like breaking the company up.

So yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

Now, this antitrust stuff is pretty esoteric, and I won’t gatekeep you or shame you if you wanna keep a little distance on this subject. Nearly everyone is an antitrust normie, and that's OK. But if you’re a normie, you’re probably only catching little bits and pieces of the narrative, and let me tell you, the monopolists know it and they are flooding the zone.

The Wall Street Journal has published over 100 editorials condemning FTC Chair Lina Khan, saying she’s an ineffectual do-nothing, wasting public funds chasing doomed, quixotic adventures against poor, innocent businesses accomplishing nothing

[Does anyone out there know who owns the Wall Street Journal?]

That’s right, it’s Rupert Murdoch. Do you really think Rupert Murdoch pays his editorial board to write one hundred editorials about someone who’s not getting anything done?

The reality is that in the USA, in the UK, in the EU, in Australia, in Canada, in Japan, in South Korea, even in China, we are seeing more antitrust action over the past four years than over the preceding forty years.

Remember, competition law is actually pretty robust. The problem isn’t the law, It’s the enforcement priorities. Reagan put antitrust in mothballs 40 years ago, but that elegant weapon from a more civilized age is now back in the hands of people who know how to use it, and they’re swinging for the fences.

Next up: regulation.

As the seemingly inescapable power of the tech giants is revealed for the sham it always was, governments and regulators are finally gonna kill the “one weird trick” of violating the law, and saying “It doesn’t count, we did it with an app.”

Like in the EU, they’re rolling out the Digital Markets Act this year. That’s a law requiring dominant platforms to stand up APIs so that third parties can offer interoperable services.

So a co-op, a nonprofit, a hobbyist, a startup, or a local government agency wil eventuallyl be able to offer, say, a social media server that can interconnect with one of the dominant social media silos, and users who switch to that new platform will be able to continue to exchange messages with the users they follow and groups they belong to, so the switching costs will fall to damned near zero.

That’s a very cool rule, but what’s even cooler is how it’s gonna be enforced. Previous EU tech rules were “regulations” as in the GDPR – the General Data Privacy Regulation. EU regs need to be “transposed” into laws in each of the 27 EU member states, so they become national laws that get enforced by national courts.

For Big Tech, that means all previous tech regulations are enforced in Ireland, because Ireland is a tax haven, and all the tech companies fly Irish flags of convenience.

Here’s the thing: every tax haven is also a crime haven. After all, if Google can pretend it’s Irish this week, it can pretend to be Cypriot, or Maltese, or Luxembougeious next week. So Ireland has to keep these footloose criminal enterprises happy, or they’ll up sticks and go somewhere else.

This is why the GDPR is such a goddamned joke in practice. Big tech wipes its ass with the GDPR, and the only way to punish them starts with Ireland’s privacy commissioner, who barely bothers to get out of bed. This is an agency that spends most of its time watching cartoons on TV in its pajamas and eating breakfast cereal. So all of the big GDPR cases go to Ireland and they die there.

This is hardly a secret. The European Commission knows it’s going on. So with the DMA, the Commission has changed things up: The DMA is an “Act,” not a “Regulation.” Meaning it gets enforced in the EU’s federal courts, bypassing the national courts in crime-havens like Ireland.

In other words, the “we violate privacy law, but we do it with an app” gambit that worked on Ireland’s toothless privacy watchdog is now a dead letter, because EU federal judges have no reason to swallow that obvious bullshit.

Here in the US, the dam is breaking on federal consumer privacy law – at last!

Remember, our last privacy law was passed in 1988 to protect the sanctity of VHS rental history. It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden? Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google? Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics? Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms? Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

A federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems

There's a pretty big coalition for that kind of privacy law! Which is why we have seen a procession of imperfect (but steadily improving) privacy laws working their way through Congress.

If you sign up for EFF’s mailing list at eff.org we’ll send you an email when these come up, so you can call your Congressjerk or Senator and talk to them about it. Or better yet, make an appointment to drop by their offices when they’re in their districts, and explain to them that you’re not just a registered voter from their district, you’re the kind of elite tech person who goes to Defcon, and then explain the bill to them. That stuff makes a difference.

What about self-help? How are we doing on making interoperability legal again, so hackers can just fix shit without waiting for Congress or a federal agency to act?

All the action here these day is in the state Right to Repair fight. We’re getting state R2R bills, like the one that passed this year in Oregon that bans parts pairing, where DRM is used to keep a device from using a new part until it gets an authorized technician’s unlock code.

These bills are pushed by a fantastic group of organizations called the Repair Coalition, at Repair.org, and they’ll email you when one of these laws is going through your statehouse, so you can meet with your state reps and explain to the JV squad the same thing you told your federal reps.

Repair.org’s prime mover is Ifixit, who are genuine heroes of the repair revolution, and Ifixit’s founder, Kyle Wiens, is here at the con. When you see him, you can shake his hand and tell him thanks, and that’ll be even better if you tell him that you’ve signed up to get alerts at repair.org!

Now, on to the final way that we reverse enhittification and build that new, good internet: you, the tech labor force.

For years, your bosses tricked you into thinking you were founders in waiting, temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who were only momentarily drawing a salary.

You certainly weren’t workers. Your power came from your intrinsic virtue, not like those lazy slobs in unions who have to get their power through that kumbaya solidarity nonsense.

It was a trick. You were scammed. The power you had came from scarcity, and so when the scarcity ended, when the industry started ringing up six-figure annual layoffs, your power went away with it.

The only durable source of power for tech workers is as workers, in a union.

Think about Amazon. Warehouse workers have to piss in bottles and have the highest rate of on-the-job maimings of any competing business. Whereas Amazon coders get to show up for work with facial piercings, green mohawks, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don’t understand. They can piss whenever they want!

That’s not because Jeff Bezos or Andy Jassy loves you guys. It’s because they’re scared you’ll quit and they don’t know how to replace you.

Time for the second obligatory William Gibson quote: “The future is here, it’s just not evenly distributed.” You know who’s living in the future?. Those Amazon blue-collar workers. They are the bleeding edge.

Drivers whose eyeballs are monitored by AI cameras that do digital phrenology on their faces to figure out whether to dock their pay, warehouse workers whose bodies are ruined in just months.

As tech bosses beef up that reserve army of unemployed, skilled tech workers, then those tech workers – you all – will arrive at the same future as them.

Look, I know that you’ve spent your careers explaining in words so small your boss could understand them that you refuse to enshittify the company’s products, and I thank you for your service.

But if you want to go on fighting for the user, you need power that’s more durable than scarcity. You need a union. Wanna learn how? Check out the Tech Workers Coalition and Tech Solidarity, and get organized.

Enshittification didn’t arise because our bosses changed. They were always that guy.

They were always yankin’ on that enshittification lever in the C-suite.

What changed was the environment, everything that kept that switch from moving.

And that’s good news, in a bankshot way, because it means we can make good services out of imperfect people. As a wildly imperfect person myself, I find this heartening.

The new good internet is in our grasp: an internet that has the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the greased-skids simplicity of Web 2.0 that let all our normie friends get in on the fun.

Tech bosses want you to think that good UX and enshittification can’t ever be separated. That’s such a self-serving proposition you can spot it from orbit. We know it, 'cause we built the old good internet, and we’ve been fighting a rear-guard action to preserve it for the past two decades.

It’s time to stop playing defense. It's time to go on the offensive. To restore competition, regulation, interop and tech worker power so that we can create the new, good internet we’ll need to fight fascism, the climate emergency, and genocide.

To build a digital nervous system for a 21st century in which our children can thrive and prosper.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

Image: https://twitter.com/igama/status/1822347578094043435/ (cropped)

@fak3r@mastodon.social (cropped)

https://mamot.fr/@fak3r@mastodon.social/112963252835869648

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.pt

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin abt Dad bod! Miguel again…

Relationship weight gain is kinda inevitable when both parties are in absolute love with each other, and Miguel, despite being a total specimen, is no exception to this.

By now, you and Miguel have been dating for quite a bit, and you noticed Miguel getting a lil chunky. Not something you protested. At all. In fact, you were living for it. Yea, Miguel was gorgeous with those rock hard abs and that slutty waist of his that you were beginning to envy, but once his dad bod came in… dayum.

Miguel, however, did feel slightly embarrassed about it all, even though you reminded him everyday that he’s literally the most gorgeous man. Ever. It wasn’t about him, though. He was more concerned about you; that you wouldn’t see him the same way anymore, but you didn’t mind reassuring him a million times that he is all you want and ever need. Plus, it’s a dad bod, literally the best bod, like, c’mon now.

You’d watch him walk around the house with sweatpants on and no shirt, perky pecs (you could’ve sworn he had more titty than you, Jesus Christ), chest hair, pumped arms, fluffy abdomen and a tiny peek of a happy trail that could make your womanhood quiver. All that on full display for you and only you to ogle at. God, he was gorgeous. You, lying in bed, would bite your lip at the piece of work in front of you. Miguel was hunched over on his computer, which he dwarfed with his hands and build, reviewing some lab reports. Your eyes traced along his muscles, some of his stretch marks, and the one or two rolls he had on his side. How can a man look so delicious even while working?

“Whatcha looking at, mama?” He doesn’t look up.

“Oh, nothing… just the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.”

He finally looks up from the computer and smiles at you.

“That’s all you, mamita.”

You smile back. You still get butterflies with this man. You reach your arms out.

“C’mere, come to bed. I need my teddy bear.”

He chuckles. “ya mismo, beba, I only have one more left. I’ll be right there.”

You drop your hands in defeat. He says only one more, but you knew it would take him at least like 30 minutes to look over those things. He likes to be real thorough with them. You loved that your man had brains, but sometimes you wish he would just relax once in a while.

An idea flickered in your mind.

“Baby…”

“Yea, mama?” He mumbles, eyes concentrated on his screen.

“…how many kids would you want?”

He immediately perks up. Oh, now you’ve got his undivided attention.

“Kids?” He says, almost a little too excited, “What made you think about that?”

“Ohhh, I dunno… it’s just that you’ve got this dad look goin’ and… it’s been making think, y’know?”

“‘Dad look’?” He says with a humored smile.

“Well yea… I really like it. You’re lookin husky and thick, it’s so… sexy.”

The computer has been officially closed. Your plan is working.

“Oh yea?” His voice becomes lower, more sensual, as he climbs onto bed, his gaze becoming hungry. Miguel towers over you until he settles down on the comforter, nestled up right next to you, his thick thigh draped over both of yours. He rests his burly arm over your stomach, pulling you even closer to his warm body. Now that he lays next to you on the bed, you feel way smaller against him. You loved that.

“Mhm… it’s hard to not picture you with our future kids when you’re walking around here lookin’ like that. I’d make you such a cute daddy.” You coo, your hands brushing against his chest, playing with the hair there, occasionally caressing down to his soft mid-section. “Aw, baby… and I’d make you such a beautiful mommy,” Miguel groans into your neck, placing a kiss there, his hand goes up under his t shirt you’re wearing, caressing circles on your stomach as he imagines a bump there, “fuck, just thinking about you being pregnant makes me hot.“ His hand moves up to grab one of your breasts, giving it a light squeeze, his index finger giving your bud some attention, “and these filled with milk? coño, no puedo esperar.” He moans, his voice strained.

“So how many you want, daddy? Name a number and I’ll give em’ to you.”

Miguel just looks at you dumbfounded. He doesn’t know whether to get emotional or just pin you to the bed and fill you up with his kid to get a head start on this family. He thinks he’ll choose the latter.

“Mamita, I want however many you can give me.” he grabs you by the chin and smashes his lips against yours in a tongue-eating kiss. “Mmgonna look so pretty all swollen for me.” He then placed himself in between your legs, completely caging you in his broad shoulders and arms, his belly brushing up against your stomach. It’s not the only thing you feel, as you also feel his thick hard on when his hips start grinding against your weeping cunt.

“Mi princesita wants to make me a daddy, huh?” He says in a mocking voice. You nod, making a timid noise, aroused by his dominance. You look down to see a wet spot on his sweatpants, his precum seeping through from your little daddy talk no doubt. His mouth sucks and nips at the delicate skin on your neck, your shirt being hastily raised, your now wet panties shortly following the shirt. You’re in for it now. A victorious smirk growing on your face knowing that that last report would be saved for another day.

“Baby, What about your report?”

“It can wait.”

Spoiler alert: He rails you like a dog in heat, cream pies you multiple times, and makes sure none of it goes to waste!!! <3333 u got what u wanted!!! Yay!!!

A/n: He is very gorjus to me, ur honor!!! <33333

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

[pearlfeline]

the world's best tour guide

peter parker x fem!reader/stark!reader

word count: 2.6k

tw: none

a/n: made this longer to make up for the last one but then i went so far i didn't know how to end it lol hope its still readable because i don't think so :') enjoy ALSO HOCO PETER CALLBACK BC I MISS WATCHING THAT MOVIE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MIDDLE SCHOOL OH GOOOOOOOOD

“There needs to be somebody else with me!” Your father exclaimed.

“Oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that before making this fraudulent internship?”

“It’s… real. It’s real to me.” Your father gazes at you longingly.

“Soooo people are supposed to believe I have to work my way up through this internship despite the fact that we share a last name and address?” You look up from your laptop for the first time during this conversation.

“There’s celebrities out there that don’t give their children even a penny, you’re lucky.” Tony shrugs, popping a grape in his mouth.

"Plus, it makes perfect sense! You're a little builder like me aren't you?" He says in between chews.

“Those are mine,” You snag the bowl back to your side of the kitchen island. “and I’m adopted!” You shove two grapes in your mouth to one-up him. “Do you know how effed up you would be to cut off my only source of income when I’m adopted?!” You were muffled by the grapes in your mouth.

“Don’t curse.”

“I said eff I didn’t say fuck.”

“DON’T CURSE.” Tony warned.

“Ugh, where’s mom? I wanna complain about you.” You groaned, taking yourself and your laptop upstairs.

“Leaving at 11:30!” Tony shouted through the stairs.

You waved him off, rushing to your room. You continued working on your computational model simulated lab that Bruce designed for you to play around with.

“Bam.” You say to yourself as you let the 3D models crash into eachother.

“Knock knock.” Your mom says quietly.

“Mom, don't say knock knock. Just knock on the door.”

“Honey, let’s get off the computer for a second.”

Pepper closes your laptop gently. “Just go with your father hon. He’s just using this as an excuse. He wants you to work with him more he loves you.” She crouches down at your eye level, taking your hand.

“Everybody knows how smart you are, they want to work with you. Okay? Okay. Great, get dressed.”

“It's not that I don't want to go, it's the fact that I'm probably not allowed to touch anything fun or follow dad anywhere cool. Also your pep talks are getting shorter and shorter.” You huffed.

“I’m hungry. I want lunch. Maybe your dad should’ve waited for me to make my toast before asking me to come up here.” Pepper takes one last look before leaving the room. ��Be ready in 5 minutes.”

You begrudgingly come downstairs.

“You look great honey.” Tony clasps his hands together.

“I didn’t even change.” You said flatly.

“…Okay. In the car.”

Pepper gives you a look with many meanings behind it. If you had to guess, her expression meant “Be nice”, “He’s trying his best”, and “Shut up don’t complain”.

You give your mom a half-hearted thumbs up before leaving.

After a little while of driving, Happy comes to an abrupt stop.

“Dude what the-” Your phone dropped to the bottom of Happy’s seat in the process.

“Here’s the kid.” Tony says, trying to hide his smile. It was evident even from the backseat.

A boy with a linty hoodie and a beaten down bag waved to the car, a matching grin plastered on his face after he realized who was inside.

“Mr. Stark!” He exclaimed.

Your dad gets out of the car, exchanging words with the boy.

Tony opens his door. “Yeah go sit back there. Now, I trust you know not to bother my daughter.”

As if on cue, Peter opens the door to see you with intimidation in his eyes.

“Hi.”

“H-Hi.” Peter sits in his seat stiffly. He extends a hand and reels it back realizing what your dad had just said.

“He’s just kidding.” You shake your head, chuckling. “…I’m allowed to greet people.”

Peter swallows a lump in his throat. “Right. Of course. I’m just not sure if I can greet people.” He wipes his sweaty hand on his sleeve before extending it out again.

“Peter.” He looks up with a shy smile.

“Y/N.” You nod, shaking his hand.

“I saw you on youtube. The robot you built? The one that could project a hologram five times its size? So cool.” He gushes.

You smile shyly, having to look away from embarrassment.

“I’ve seen you on youtube too.” You grin subtly.

"...Oh god. I was only ten, my solar system was supposed to orbit around slowly. I used paperweights instead of styrofoam balls and the battery I used was high powered, they weren't supposed to fly out like that. I even paid for the school's camera with my Christmas money-"

"Uh- no.. I meant like the spider thing?"

Dumbfounded, Peter looks over to Tony through the rear view mirror. Tony meets his eyes and gives him a wink.

"Oh... I didn't know you knew about that." Peter sinks into his seat.

"Don't be embarrassed. I think it's cool." You smiled.

Peter unconsciously smiles back at you. "Thanks.. I…try." Peter cringes at his attempt to reply to you normally.

You lessen the distance between you and him and look at him fascinated.

"How do you swing around? Lab-made fibers? It looks.. almost organic."

Peter tries not to flinch and holds his breath. He should've brought his breath mints. What if his breath stinks? He ate a string cheese before he left the apartment.

"I-I uh- I make them myself. It's web fluid. When it flys out of my web shooters, it solidifies into that flexible, strong stuff." He pulls up his sleeve to show you.

"Woah, how many cartridges do you need?" You run your fingers along the band around his wrist, staring curiously.

"They last a while, but I switch them out like every few weeks-"

"We're here." Happy yawns, taking the opportunity to stretch his arms.

"Thanks Hogan." You pat his shoulder from the backseat and get out of the car.

Peter blinked and all of the sudden, everyone filed out of the car. He frantically steps out, his eyes having a hard time adjusting to the sun.

"Here." You push him three inches to the side, bringing a shadow to shield the sun from his eyes. A really big shadow.

Peter can't help but let his mouth hang open.

"Just as flashy as I remember it dad." You said before stealing his sunglasses from his face and running to the doors.

"Hey, GENTLE! They're Dita! VINTAGE!" He shouts.

You giggled as you tried to frantically slide your keycard into the scanner that unlocked the doors.

"I'm gonna tell the receptionist they're a gift!" You yelled back before rushing inside.

This makes your dad quicken his pace, rummaging his pocket for his keycard.

Peter had never seen Tony like this before. There was someone who was alive, very real, and actually had authority over him. His child. Peter slowly catches up to Tony who's waving his credit card around the sensor.

"Sir.. I don't think that's the right card." He mumbled.

Tony looked down at his gold card, his brain short-circuiting for a moment.

After composing himself and taking out the correct card, Tony almost flung the door open, his eyes locked to you leaning over the front desk.

"Y/N!"

You turned around, the sunglasses nowhere to be found.

"Yeah?" You tilted your head innocently.

The receptionist takes this opportunity to go back to her typing after you finally stopped talking her ear off. She wasn't wearing them either.

Peter stood awkwardly behind Tony. He stared at the high ceiling and the enormous fish tank that stretched across the wall with fish he had a hard time telling if they were real.

"Gotcha." You reveal the sunglasses behind your back, handing them back to your father.

"Not my style.. Also probably not her's either. Right, Erin?"

The receptionist only shoots you a glance, her fingers never stop clacking on the keyboard.

"Kid, this way." Tony sighed, gesturing Peter and following you to an elevator.

Peter shyly makes his way to the corner of the elevator and staring at the array of buttons. He's never been in a building with over five floors, let alone a hundred.

"So... What are we doing exactly?" You asked your father.

"I thought I'd give the kid a tour." Tony says while he scrolls through his phone.

Peter fiddles with his hoodie's strings, unable to make eye contact as he's being mentioned.

"Oh." Tony stops.

"What?" You asked warily.

"I need to approve something. Something either dumb and obvious or an array of important decisions." Tony looks through his missed calls and rings a number.

"Tour my ass." You mumbled.

If superheroes do anything, they double book. Constantly.

The elevator dings and you and Peter file out. You turn around and Tony doesn't step off.

"You've been promoted to tour guide. Okay bye." Tony closes the elevator doors and you watch him descend to a lower floor.

"I went from being a child of nepotism to a tour guide? I don't consider that a promotion."

Peter was visibly dumbfounded. He was intimidated by Tony by some degree yes, but he already knew him. He's never been to the tower, and now he's alone with his child that could make or break his reputation here.

"...Dude?" You wave your hand over his face. From your perspective, ever since your dad went downstairs, Peter had been blankly staring at the floor.

"Hm?" Peter's eyes didn't leave the floor.

"Wanna meet Dr. Banner?" You smiled. It reminded Peter of a cat that knew it was doing the wrong thing.

Something about your expression told Peter you wanted to bother Bruce more than you wanted to introduce Peter to him.

After a string of trailing after you in hallways that looked like they were from the future, you slid open the keypad, and rapidly drew a complex pattern into it.

"Hey Dr. B."

"Woah." Peter's eyes wander throughout Bruce's lab. Holograms fill a lot of empty space.

"Hey mini Stark, hand me that slide rack will you?"

You were all smiles. Peter could see you were finally in your element.

"What are you doing now?" You peer over Bruce's shoulder.

"Not too close, unless you wanna put on a coat and some goggles." He says, eyes locked on the microscope.

You immediately run back to the doors, a nervous Peter Parker blocking the coat hanger.

"C'mon Peter." You enthusiastically put on a lab coat and fasten the glasses over your face. Without hesitation, you put another pair on Peter's face and throw him a coat.

You grab him by the sleeve just as he put on the coat and run back to Bruce.

"Dr. Banner, this is Peter." You smiled.

Bruce looks up from his microscope and gives a small wave.

"From what I've seen, I think he might be one of us." You chuckled.

"...And maybe one of you guys." You give Peter a teasing smile.

Peter let out a small and odd noise before clearing his throat.

"Dr. Banner, I'm a huge fan." Peter gushes.

"Hey, show him your webs." You pull his sleeve back.

Bruce’s eyes studied the webshooters.

"He's the spider guy." You say proudly.

Peter tries not to shake uncontrollably from a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

"Oh.. You made these?" Bruce blinks curiously.

Peter nods and tries to conceal his growing smile.

“He’s one of you guys. I told you.” You wink at Peter, only for him to see.

“That’s… how? How did you make these?” Bruce chuckled in disbelief.

“Can I borrow your whiteboard?” Peter asks.

After writing down the entire formula for the polymer he used for his webs, Peter finally slouches over. His work takes up a majority of the board.

Bruce stares in awe of Peter’s creation.

“Basically this is it.” Peter scratches the back of his neck.

“Visit any time kid.” Bruce chuckled, speechless. He gives Peter a pat on the shoulder.

“How about a snack?” You asked Peter.

“If you’re gonna pass this little audition with my dad, you should probably know where the kitchen is.” You sighed, pulling the goggles off your face.

“Are you sure you’re not just hungry?” Peter asks.

“Oh, I finally got the boy to let his guard down? Telling jokes now huh?” You laughed.

Peter shakes his head, smiling to the floor.

“I just met Bruce Banner.”

“Mhm.” You trail down a long hallway, to a shiny pair of doors that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The kind of doors Peter would visualize any person having a hard time opening.

Behind the doors was a kitchen area bigger than the living room of his apartment. The marble top island was like his dining table.

“Take anything.” You said casually, fetching two spoons from a drawer.

Peter walks in like he’s just attended his own surprise party. When he opened the pantry he didn’t expect a wall of snacks.

“I like these.” Peter points to the bag of mini reese’s cups.

“Then bring the bag dummy.” You snorted and opened the freezer.

“How about some ice cream?”

Peter and you somehow moved all your snacks to the balcony and you started tearing away at them almost immediately.

“You brought a lot.” Peter unwraps a peanut butter cup while you sink your spoon into your coffee ice cream.

“What are you hinting at man?” You give him a glare.

“NO! God, no I meant I don’t want to eat all this food, it’s- it’s not mine I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.” By the end of Peter’s sentence he pops the candy in his mouth, defeated.

“I’m messing with you. Dig in. Seriously though Cap is on a new diet he found on this dumb blog. I never should’ve gave him an iPad for Christmas.” You rolled you eyes.

“It’s mostly my snacks now. Sometimes Natasha eats with me when I bother her enough.”

“Cap? Cap as in?” Peter knew the answer but needed a confirmation. There was no way he could be convinced he’s in the very building where all these heroes roam around.

“Captain America.”

“And Nat?”

“Oh, Black Widow.” You say in a sultry voice.

“That’s my lady. We watch dumb movies when I come around here.” You added.

“That’s.. wow. You see them often?” Peter takes a spoon and digs into the ice cream too.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“Just so you know, they’re all lame like me. Not as cool as you think.” You grinned at the memories you had of them hanging around.

Peter shook his head.

“You’re not lame. You’re cool. I don’t think anyone else can mess with Tony Stark like you can.” Peter chuckled.

You look down and take another scoop of ice cream.

“…Not that he’s the only reason why you’re cool. You’re so smart and really funny.” And really pretty. But he wasn’t going to say that.

“Thanks. You’re pretty cool too.”

Peter let out a dry laugh.

“No. I’m not. You should see me at school seriously. It varies from being invisible to being a-”

“Don’t call yourself a loser or a nerd before I do a flip off this balcony.” You groaned.

“Besides, what’s a nerd if not a person in the wrong environment?” You give him a nudge.

“This is an environment where nerds thrive… And the occasional superhuman.” You added.

“Then why aren’t you getting recruited possibly, like I am?” Peter asked.

“My parents won’t ever let that happen.” You sighed, opening a bag of spicy chips.

“Maybe in the future, I’ll be one of these guys, we’ll be older, and we can convince your parents.” He said.

“You’re so innocent.” You laughed. “But yeah. If you somehow land a spot here, you have to help me get in too.”

Peter held out his pinky.

“..What are you doing?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I…pinky promise.” Peter held a stern expression. For the world’s best tour guide, he was willing to keep his word.

“Okay, swear?” You held out your pinky.

“Swear.”

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 24

Prompt: Toys Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x fem!reader   WC: 4.2k Summary: Your ex was jealous trash. Both you and Chan know it, Chan just didn’t know the extent of it. Now he has something to prove.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Chan or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: Honestly, pretty vanilla. Pet names used include “babygirl” “princess” and “good girl”. There’s a lot of banter and checking in with consent! Vibrator is used. Chan has a big dick. Reader has femme sex organs.

 “I’m sorry-WHAT?” Chan practically yelped, head coming forward and eyes bulging.   “Guys are just like that Channie. As soon as I suggest a vib-”   “No stop pause, I heard you.” He laughs and rocks back into the couch. “Like you know me, I’m insecure but that's…it’s another level.”

 Your cheeks burn. He was right. The entire argument had been childish and should’ve been a red flag. “Well now I’m embarrassed…” you mutter and focus on your drink.

 How had you even gotten here? How had the topic drifted so far from how are you doing to who are you doing and how are you doing them? One vague joke about Chan’s computer habits? Tonight was one of the rare nights Chan did not have his eyes glued to his Macbook, his modern day grindstone - opting to replace the mouse with a bottle of light beer (“it's what athletes drink if they are going to have alcohol”) and the small screen with human company. Your company.

 The process of getting Chan to drop his work for one night was exhausting. He’d been your best friend for a couple years now, ever since meeting late night in the audio lab in college where he’d been similarly glued to the iMacs until the teaching aid kicked the two of you out. One last edit, one more pass, toggling the mute and unmute of the track feverishly asking “1 or 2” like you were at an eye exam. These were the building blocks of your relationship. It wasn’t until a particularly unseasonably warm night during spring break when you finally saw him step out into the world to eat and drink with the common folk. It was that night, drinking tallboys on the campus quad at 4am, that you’d solidified your friendship.

 And still, the topic of sex was never something either of you had brought up.

 There were too many other topics. Video games, anime, and of course music. Hours and hours of trading songs back and forth, studying eachother's reactions intently. watching his face light up in surprise and brow furrow into an intense scour were some of the few times you felt uninhibited joy. It was a cute habit he had, looking utterly disgusted when he was deeply into a song. Chan valued most of all your enthusiasm and positivity. Even if a song wasn’t your style, you’d highlight the aspects that you liked with vigor. Childlike exuberance, it’s what he liked most about your reactions. Sharing songs was like sharing your souls.  So how had you managed to veer into this new unbroached territory?  It wasn’t like you’d never joked about sex. Anyone could tell you though, joking and talking about sex are two very different things. In the process of all of your soul spilling, confessing deep seeded feelings of inescapable loneliness, pondering the crushing finality of the third death (when the world says your name for the last time), and of course the underrated pleasure of a bimbo bop, you’d never really talked about sex. Chan fucked. You assumed as much. You fucked so why wouldn’t he. Chan had even been there for the first moving out breakup you’d ever had to go through. It’s how you ended up as neighbors.  The rocky road started with Chan’s offhanded joke about you being easy to please. It was a frequent flier of jokes that he’d rattle off during friendly banter. Normally an eye roller but tonight you took issue.  “Tell that to my ex,” you took a swig of cider with a grimace. “...or don’t. He doesn’t need another reason to feel inadequate.”  “Inadequate? Bro was like almost 190cm!” Chan laughed.  “Yeah, 190cm and humbled by the suggestion of clitoral stimulation.” You said in a deadpan, staring straight forward. Chan nearly projected his beer straight out onto the coffee table in front of him. “What part of that was so funny? Clitoral?”  Chan sticks out his tongue. “Not funny just…is that why you two broke up?”  You swig and sigh. The details were still fresh in your memory, your last boyfriend. “No. But yes. But no. His inability to make friends with my vibrator was one of MANY issue indicating-”

 The rest of the scene played in slow motion for you, his yelp, his laugh. Your cheeks burning as he shook his head back and forth, eyebrow cocked incredulously.

 “I’m not like that.” Chin tilted down he looks up at you from under his eyebrows. “Aren’t I a guy?”  “All the guys I know are like that, competitive. The viber- it’s, it’s competition.”  “Aren’t I a guy?” He repeats again. “Aren’t I competitive?”

 In the years you’ve known him, the air has never been this tense. You’ve fought but this didn’t feel like fighting. Chan continues to stare at you, waiting for your answer. You gulp.

 “Yes, you are a guy. Yes, you are competitive. Happy? Pleased?”

 He smirks and takes another gulp of beer and swallows hard, pretty enough to be a commercial. It made you nervous. You took another sip of cider in silence.   “Sex is a team sport anyway. Gotta know your real competition.” Chan states out of nowhere with a wink.   You choke on the cider halfway down your throat. Both lungs and cheeks burning you turn to him glaring, “okay Chris. Any other tips for my sex life?”  Chan shrugs. Truthfully he never liked your ex. You’d wanted the two of them to get along so badly, you arranged activities for them that you thought they’d bond over and somehow each time it would end in an argument or as your ex would say “it’s just a conversation, babe. We’re having a dialogue. Man to man.”   Chan hated the way your ex called you babe. He’d mocked him for weeks after your break up just to see a hint of a smile from behind the clouds of anxiety. He hated how your ex would ignore you, leaving your texts unread and unanswered all night. Most of all Chan hated your excuses for him, the list long and winding.   Your patience wears thin waiting for his response and you snap, “how’s your sex life then? Prosperous I hope.”

You didn’t hope.

 He takes a measured pause, another swig, and answers, “I tried like…video call sex?” He fumbles for a term he’s forgotten and is unfamiliar with. “I just kept staring at my own dick like ‘what am I doing? This is so inefficient.’ You know?”   You can’t help but laugh, “unfortunately I do.” A very Chan thought, weighing the efficiencies of phone sex.   “See that’s why tools in the bedroom are friends. Efficiency.” Chan stumbles, visibly seesawing between curiosity and decorum. “So he really never got you off?”   “No. yeah. No.” You look anywhere else. “It’s why i prefer…efficiency.” The word efficiency slips from your lips heavily, laden with new meaning. Both of you pause and take swigs of your respective drinks.   “Bet I could,” Chan says easily, with a shrug of his shoulders.   “Sure,” you shrug back.

At first the words don’t register, what you’ve bet exactly doesn’t hit you.  “Okay, so bedroom?” He stands up, placing the empty bottle on your table. He’s so matter of fact it doesn’t hit you.   “Bedroom?” You look up at him quizzically.   “Or anywhere, if you have something specific in mind.” You tilt your head and squint your eyes further. Chan mimics you, eyes twinkling with glee. “You’ll want towels regardless.”

Oh.

OH.

He bet he could make you cum. Butterflies fill your stomach.

 “Chris, you don’t have to- listen no one has really been able to as well as me myself and my trusty vibrator Even then, no towels necessary just wham bam thank you ma’am.” Your tongue and mind are in two different places, mouth working to dissuade him and brain screaming in need.  The mischievous expression from his eyes migrates to his lips,  “is that a yes?”

 “Chan, it's a losing game. I’ve been doing this for-”

 “Where’s your spirit of competition?” he laughs and braces himself. “It’s a friendly wager. Worst thing that happens is you don’t cum and I buy you something top shelf.” Your hesitation is visibly killing him, as much as he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected. His leg jostles with anxiety. “It really sounds like a win win for you. Unless you don’t-”  “You won’t let this change our friendship right? You can do it and not let that happen?” You purse your lips and exhale, “...promise-”

 Chan launches himself at you like an over excited puppy, “yes anything, whatever you want!”

 Much like you, your bedroom is not exactly ready for this turn to the night. Chan leans on the doorway as you hastily shove the dirty clothes spilling over the edge of your hamper back under the lid. Your night stand is cluttered with skincare and two vibrators charging in the conspicuously cracked open drawer.

 “Don’t say SHIT Chan, “ you whip around, still hunched over with clothes in your fists. “I didn’t think I’d have anyone in here for a while.”   He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a sigh, you can tell he wants to make a joke and is barely holding it in him. Instead he sits on the edge of your queen sized bed, watching you toss clothes from the top of your dresser into the basket and closet according to their relative states of wear.   “This won’t count against my time, right?” He tries to joke, you narrow your eyes. “Sheesh. Just get on the bed, okay? You won’t cum if you’re too stressed.”   “You’re not going to be able to ANYWAY Chan,” you continue to attempt to neaten your room.   “Yeah if you keep cleaning, yeah, I won't. Now get comfy on the bed please!” Chan enthusiastically smacks the mattress.   You cock your eyebrow, “make me.”   Chan sighs, it’s a simple pair of words, “make me”, and yet they burrow into him. He nods his head and approaches you putting your hips on his shoulder and hoisting you over his back, smacking your ass before setting you down on the bed.   “You done being a brat?”   You look a little dazed but you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and goes to your bedside table, grabbing your vibrating wand left charging half out of the drawer.   “Chan. CHAN. CHRISTOPHER. That’s CHEATING.” You let him guide your legs outwards, knees pointed up.   “Wahhh, it’s been a second since you used my full christian name. ‘S’not cheating, it’s a partnership.” You wail for comic effect. He smiles a small, crooked half smile, “so, you normally get off with all your clothes on?”

 “Well, actually, yes?” You shrug, “it’s not much mess anyway so…”  “I was hoping to see your pretty cunt but we can start here,” he says, settling into the space between your thighs. Your stomach swooping again. He’d said cunt in front of you before, many times, it wasn’t a shocking word between you. Yet the addition of your…the familiar click of the vibrator interrupts the train of thought. “I’ll admit its easier when i can see the damn thing but-”  It doesn’t take much to have your hips winding. Maybe it's the familiar tool being held in an unexpected hand but the vibration feels more intense the second it sits on your mound. You barely manage to catch a burgeoning moan in your chest. Chan scoots closer on the bed, deepening the pressure on your wand.  “Can I touch you?” His voice is hoarse.  “Over. Yes.”  He nods as he leans over you, a strong hand pushing the edge of your bra down in your shirt, letting just the obviously hardened bud slip free. The rough callous of his thumb catches on the cotton threads of your shirt as he rubs over the tender bump. For you, most of the time you just used your vibrator without thinking too much about anything else. Getting off was no frills, all business. Letting him fondle you even over your clothes like horny teens elevated the entire experience.  “Howzzat feel?” He grins smugly as you bite the inside of your lower lip. Your eyes flick backwards for a second, momentarily losing the veneer of respectability you clung to so desperately. “I want you to tell me. I need you to tell me.”  You collect yourself as much as you can. “Feels real good, okay Chris? Real fucking good.”  “What’s your fastest time?” Chan starts pressing the vibrator harder against you before pulling back. It’s a subtle increase and decrease in pressure but enough to get your toes twitching.  “God-fuck-Chris- I don’t fucking- I don’t know.” Your breathing staggers. This cocky bastard is really going to make you cum that easily. Shoulder blades drawing down, back arching away from the bed, your vision swims for a second before you calm yourself by sheer force of will.  “So stubborn, babygirl!” He cackles. “You don’t wanna let me win this? It’ll feel so good if you just let yourself go. Either way you win, it’s a win-win. Just cum, it’ll feel so good. I promise.”  The spring winds again, the promise of pleasure at the other end of the snap. Your chest rises, he gives a small pinch to your taut nipple. A frankly embarrassingly needy whine hums in your nose.  “God I wanna be in you so bad right now.”  Chan’s earnest confession sends you over the edge. Your legs go numb as your eyeballs roll back in your skull, defense crashing down as the stretched spring snaps back. Wall clenching around nothing you can feel wetness bloom in your underwear. “Sssshhit,” you hiss, twitching with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath. You try to hide how your stomach tenses with every exhale.  “I was better, right?” He’s smug, you can hear it in the sing-song lilt of his voice. It’s difficult to face him fully with your post orgasm clarity beginning to hit. Peaking through one half cracked eyelid, he’s sitting back on his heels, bulge prominent in his pants. Even with your limited vision it’s hard to miss the throbbing mass.  “Different.” Your protracted answer betrays you, unable to trust yourself to keep your tone even and calm. The bed shifts below you. Chan is so close, leaning over you, a whisper away.  Mouth just to the side of yours, hovering, just within the turn of your head. “Wanna bet? I bet you’re fucking soaked right now.”  Kiss me. Touch me. Kiss now. Touch me please. Kiss, touch, fuck, kiss, kiss, kiss, kisskisskisskiss. Your brain is chanting out of your skull, body heating up from the microscopic excited vibrations you’re trying your best to hold deep in your core. “Ha,” you more bleat than laugh. Very uncool. Wheezy airy wanting air escaping from your lungs rather than the even keel chuckle of someone who totally didn’t want to their best friend to fuck their brains out.  Chan’s hand, long having dropped the vibrator, grazes your waistband. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to. But I bet you don’t want me to.” Your breath hitches as they catch and slide over the slick fabric of your underwear. His fingers are more precise than the wand and the already sensitive area is swollen. The sticky remnants of your orgasm cling as he too casually runs a finger along your slit.  You hold your breath and curl your toes.  “Do you want me to?” Chan smirks down at you.  You shake your head no.  “Is that a ‘no, keep going’ or a ‘no, please stop?’”  Deep breath in. “Keep going.”  He smiles, increasing the pressure he’s using to rub your clit with. “Good girl,” he whispers, chest practically touching yours. You can feel the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as you try to hide your gasp of delight. Laughing, he kisses your cheek. “I knew you’d have a praise kink.”  “You’re so fucking cocky.”  Chan shuffles himself off of you. “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” he shrugs before tugging your pants down over your hips.. “Now babygirl, show me that cute cunt of yours.”  Chan is stupidly strong as he yanks your legs free. The slight rise and fall of your chests less from strain and more from anticipation. Something neither of you had really dared to entertain falling so easily into place.  “Let me see yours first,” you blurt as heat flashes through you.  Brow knitting and shaking his head in confusion, Chan shrugs, “fair enough.”  You’re going to see it. After all these years you’re going to finally see his dick. It’ll be right there, confronting you. You think about all the things you know about your best friend, the blue veins that peak up his vline, his big feet, the foreboding lump in his pants. He’s not a tall guy but that doesn’t mean much in your estimation of him. Black jeans, black underwear hugging his thighs. You take a deep breath, blinking, turning more and more into squeezing your eyes shut.  “Take off your shirt.” Your voice sounds pinched and you’re barely peeking out from between your eyelashes.  Chan isn’t one to flinch at the request, shucking his top in a flash. “I thought you wanted me to go first.”  “I do! I do. I just can’t help but think that everything is going to change after this. Like, we can’t go back from this. And I get scared.”  “I’ll still love you regardless. And if you wanna stop or nah-”  “You’re such a sentimental bastard. Take your cock out, I’m ready.”  He laughs, eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline, a bemused grin creeping slowly into the corners of his mouth. Thumbs hooked on the waistband of his underwear he pulls it down agonizingly slowly, eyes locked on your face. The way your face shifts between excitement and dread is endearing. Truthfully he wanted to prolong the anticipation just to watch you squirm for him, the butterflies invading your gut and making themselves known adorably.  The band crosses over his pubic bone to territory you’d yet seen, neatly trimmed dark hair surrounding the base of his cock.  You let out a tiny involuntary yelp.  Neatly trimmed. Thick. Without all of it being revealed you can already tell its hefty. Veins throb, crossing over the pulsing muscle. A challenge for sure. The shear weighty bounce of it as the enormity of it is revealed is daunting, enough to make any person feel virginal again.  “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” Chan repeats, languidly fisting his cock to full mast. It’s too heavy to sit all the way up, instead jutting out from him into the open air. “Now do you want me to fuck you with your underwear on or-” pausing for you to interject before he pulls your hips up onto his thighs. A thousand butterflies burst into flames in your chest watching him kiss your knees as he removes your panties.  “Why are you being so tender with me oh my god!” Flames tickle the sides of your face as you giggle, flustered.  “‘Cuz this is going to sting a bit.”

 Oh fuck is that the understatement of the century. You can feel it from the way he rubs the blunt spongy tip of his cock along your folds. From the briefest of catches on your entrance you stiffen below him. Suddenly you’re less nervous about what he thinks of your pussy and more that he’ll not be able to fit. Lodging himself there at the precipice of heaven, he leans back over, resting himself on his forearms to keep himself from completely covering you.

 “It’ll fit, right?” You ask with a hopeful sniff.

 “Oh babe, I can make it fit, don’t worry about that. Just let me take care of it.” Chan angles his hips and lets his shaft glide over your slit. It’s a bundle of muscle you can’t resist grinding against. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath soaking into your shirt as he occasionally presses a chaste kiss to your neck.

 Your breasts practically ache for his touch, having felt it muted through the fabric of that same stupid shirt. With an annoyed grunt you struggle to strip it off at first, caged underneath Chan. Its not until he snakes an arm beneath you and lifts your torso that you free yourself of the barrier. Almost as impressive as his feat of strength is the dexterity with which he unclasps your bra. A pang of jealousy echos in your chest, he’s had practice. As if it should really matter to you, if anything it’s only prepared him for this moment.

 His lips are soft against your skin. Every kiss is a small promise of pleasure and harbinger of anticipation as they draw closer and closer to your hardened nipples. “Please, please, please,” you chant in barely a whisper as your back arches to meet him.

 “You want this, right?” He feigns innocence as his lips wrap around you, sucking for a second. Your hips buck upwards into Chan’s resistance, grinding harder with a groan of relief. A strand of saliva bridges the gap between your breast and his grin. His hips encourage your redoubled efforts as he goes in for another nibble, teeth just barely tickling over your sensitive area.

 Holding tight to his back you try to keep him close as you feel that same growing devouring pit of hungry need consuming your gut. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so fucking close.” It’s not so much dry humping anymore as your sex slides over him, pressure placed perfectly over your clit. “I’ll fucking kill you.” You add for good measure.

 His tongue flicks over your nub, hand finally joining to pinch and kneed the other. Chan keeps his hips as steady as he can as you grow erratic, breathlessly using him to get yourself off again. All a part of his plan.

 When you cum you sink your nails into his flesh, the muscles of his back valiant against them. The pit doesn’t go away, instead a ravenous beast wakes to fill the void. “I need it. I need you right now.” You reach down between your thighs to wedge him against your entrance again. “Chris please, please.” It’s difficult to bring yourself to say it, even now nearly blacking out with lust. “God please make it fit.”

 Grabbing a pillow to pull your hips up on, Chan starts to nudge forward into you. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. Slowly your walls open to him, pulling him in as the fat tip of his cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. The extra lubrication of your release helps but the stretch itself has you breathing hard into your diaphragm.

 “Chris-Chris- oh fuck- CHAN,” you scramble to hold him tighter as he pulls you apart. Your arms wrap over his shoulders, clinging to your own elbows as you squeeze.

 “You’re almost there, my good girl. Best girl.”

 “Almost?!” You yelp incredulously. “I’m so fucking full! What the fuck. What the fuck.”

 “I can stop-”

 You howl with lust filled rage. “Just shove it in oh my god Chris. Just fuck me. Please god I’m going to die.”

 Your arms bounce as he chuckles at your overdramatics “Your wish is my command, Princess.” Hands holding your hips steady his hips snap against you easily, fullying burying himself. A mighty gasp caves your abdomen, barely whispering curses as you get exactly what you’d asked for. “Hurts right?” He asks sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Let me help.”

 A telltale click.

 Whirring.

 With the white head of the vibrator placed over your clit the pain vanishes immediately. You blink furiously as the thud of your heartbeat sinks into your cunt. In all your years it hadn’t occurred to you to try this. Penetration wasn’t a necessary part of getting off so why would you? “Oh my god.”  Chan smirks.  Your hips move of their own accord, rolling just enough to push and pull him against your walls. “Oh my god it feels so good.”  “Yeah you do babygirl.” Your walls clench around him as your head is thrown back in delicious pleasure. Chan indulges in the easily accessible skin of your chest, kissing slowly between your breasts as he helps bounce you on his cock.  Orgasms roll easily into each other like a pleasant summer breeze warmly surrounding your skin and blending into the universe. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. Your bodies fit together with ease now, coated in a sheen of comingled fluids. For a moment you feel complete, your mind dulled enough to keep the buzz of thoughts finally silent, relinquishing yourself to waves of pleasure. Chan smiles, looking at your transformed face, slack jawed in open mouthed bliss.  A breath kicks your stomach in as you cum on him again, walls squeezing him desperately. “I’m going to-” he chokes on his words as he fights his own finish. “Wh-” Chan can’t even get the word out before you’re clinging to him again, rutting and fucking him into you. Weaving your fingers up through the hair on the back of his head you tug lightly. The buzz of pain jolts his hips deeply into you, painting your walls deeply with his release. A strangled raspy “shit,” passes his lips before they catch themselves on yours. His cock pulses with refractory releases, your cunt squeezing back in a sympathetic response. Neither of you want to admit you’d really fucked up the friendship.

Sorry the formatting got weird and i’m posting late but uh my other group is having a cb and i’m getting anon hate on main so here we are.

[bagelzest]

ok I've been writing down every code I could find and what they do for thisisnotawebsitedotcom in my notes app so here's what I've found so far:

• tjeckleburg - NEVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN

• bill - eye of providence wiki page, then sesame street jazzy triangle meets a square square (same result with cipher)

• bill cipher - triangle wiki page

• weirdmageddon - gravity falls gossiper newspaper

• soos - letter from soos

• pinata - bill piñata gettin beat

• mabel - stickers on everything till 'LAB NOW FULLY MABELIZED'

• dipper - note from bill telling dipper to stare at the sun for 13 hours, enter multiple times for a retina burning sim

• mason - letter from dipper

• pines - A GOOD FAMILY TREE

• stan + stanley - brass knuckles ebay search, keep entering to get wheel of shame page

• ford + stanford + sixer- ford's polydactyly diagnosis + report

• pacifica - letter from pacifica

• wendy - note from wendy

• waddles - pigplacementnetwork.org

• gideon - sweat resistant bolo ties google search

• fiddleford - cotton eye joe mv

• dippy fresh - burger king kids club r/nostalgia

• axolotl - YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS

• tad strange - bread slicing

• alex hirsch - flannel google search

• blendin - TIME AGENT LOST AND PRESUMED INCOMPETENT

• robbie - text chat between robbie and Thompson, pic of them being taken by bill

• gravity falls - NEVER HEARD OF IT

• mystery shack - confusion hill

• blind eye - eye test, colour code at bottom- euclmjiannrepttgccvisignnsupervisionn I think?? EDIT wtf was I on that is obviously not what it says

• reality - IS AN ILLUSION

• the universe - HOLLOGRAM

• deer teeth - FOR YOU, KID!

• fuck - I get told to wash my mouth out with soap :(((

• book of bill - HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

• giffany - enter multiple times, computer tries to block, SOOS, I STILL LOVE YOU, giffany appears on screen, downloading file IM NEVER LEAVING! file has all her sprites, a doc called ILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU SOOS which is text in the shape of giffany

• euclydia - DIMENSION NOT FOUND

• portal - PORTAL.EXE HAS BEEN DELETED. I BET YOU COULD BUILD ONE

• toby determined - google search restraining order

• journal 1 - THE JOURNAL OF FUN

• journal 2 - THE JOURNAL FOR YOU

• journal 3 - THE JOURNAL FOR ME

• babba + disco girl - recording of dipper singing and listening to babba

• gun - OH YES OH YES OH YES THEY BOTH

• abuelita - best vacuum for walls and ceilings yt vid

• weird - weird al trapped in the computer

• xyler + craz - jem and the holograms theme song yt vid

• triangle - TRI HARDER

• theraprism - blue sign - IN CASE OF [the old one] DO NOT USE ELEVATORS

• yes - WHAT'S MCGUCKETS FAVOURITE SODA? (I tried putting in pitt cola and variations and nothing worked)

• no - YOUR LOSS...

• vallis cineris - creepy vid of baby bill held by static parents with voice saying why did you do it

• disney - RAT.GIF CENSORED FOR YOUR PROTECTION

• love + marry me (don't worry about how I discovered that) - pic of the love triangle book, click it and it plays an audio audiobook of it

• death - LIFE'S GOTH COUSIN

• life - LIFE: 72% COMPLETE. NOW LOADING: DEATH

• blanchin - how to blanch vegetables yt vid

• divorce - o' sadleys logo (aka the bar bill was at after "losing sixer" oh my GODDD)

• season 1 - SEASON -1: ANTIGRAVITY FALLS

• season 2 - SEASON 1

• season 3 - SEASON 2

• help me + save me + god - vid of axolotl swimming infront of a little bill statue

• ad astra per aspera - 2 journal pages starring ford and mabel, pls read them it's so good

• trigonometry - bill's attempt to have plato build the portal

• cray cray - mental health wiki page

• who are you - I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION

• lies - bill talking about lying and nerds

• morality - fun game!

• R34LITY - henchmaniacs polaroids

• ducktective - DUCKTECTIVE STARS IN "LOVE, QUACKTUALLY" COMING TO: "OI, ITS THE COCKNEY CHANNEL INNIT?" THIS FALL

• question - ANSWER

• answer - QUESTION

I'm editing this post when I find new ones, feel free to add any you find!! please look at the replies to this post because people have found more codes!!

EDIT I'm probably done with updating this list, these are just the ones I found after goofing around on the website for 4 hours. other people have definitely made lists of all the codes found so far so make sure to check them out !!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Look all I'm saying is that if I were going to make a minecraft movie.

Well, first off I'd put down the first person to even reccomend we do it in cgi. Not just because it looks objectively terrible and half of the magic and nostalgia factor of minecraft is in its texture but holy shit budget much??? You are literally looking at a situation where the cheaper option is also objectively the better option. What the fuck are you doing

But I mean, after that.

Second off, all my writers must watch popular smps and minecraft roleplays/let's plays to understand the "magic" of the game. That's how we're studying for this, not the game books or whatever. Those guys are clearly doing smthn right, and as the executive/writer who knows very little about mineraft that I am in this hypothetical scenario, I need to do my best to make money. And that means learning what people like about the game and community.

Maybe even bring on some popular (non controversial please god) smp writers for consulting. They literally make minecraft movies as their fucking job, they are the expert u need to consult

Story wise, you NEED to choose if you wanna play this straight or silly. I'm so sick of movies trying to be all emotional and "ohh this world is so beautiful,, if u could only understand,, woaa" with their epic sound track and dramatic lighting, but then the dialogue being ripped out of a stupid marvel knockoff trying too hard to be witty

Anyways. Give me a generic "kid has a hard life and uses [thing] to escape it but then their parent trashes [thing] to teach them a "lesson"" movie.

The thing is minecraft and this kid is totally in love with letsplays and smps and has a server with their online friends (get a sponsorship from discord for that good good film sponsorship money, have them play while in call)

The mom or dad or maybe both trash the kids computer for some reason (bad grades maybe or one of those shitty "you need to talk to us more!!! That computer is killing ur brain!!! You don't love us as much as you should and it's that damn games fault!!!" But like it's actually just a kid being a normal fucking kid and having normal fucking kid hobbies things and the parents are dicks)

They delete the minecraft world rip

Them boom, kid somehow gets stuck in the game

Switch to NON CGI FILMING IN MINECRAFT. If you really need to add your stupid shitty fucking cgi then at least make it look like an ACTUAL MINECRAFT ANIMATION holy shit

It'll save us so much money too

So main plot is this kid, being trapped in minecraft, actually falling through different minecraft servers.

We can have different cameos from popular smps and youtubers, get some old youtubers and gameplay in here too. Get fucking dantdm and the diamond minecarts og series with the lab thing, it'll make the old fans lose their fucking MINDS.

The youtubers themselves don't even have to show up, just shove the kid into settings that are clear references to smps and letsplays. Have them wander through Aphmau's OG minecraft diaries sets or Sundee's lucky block series

The best part is that as backdrops, you don't even have to fully commit to "you'll only get this/find this interesting if you know these guys" bc if your writing is good enough you can still make people care by just. Introducing it correctly. Don't present it as "Aphmau's old minecraft diaries series world" go "oh wow look st this cool village,, woah I wonder who built this ,," And have them interact with NPCs organically

Meanwhile the parents go into the game after the kid to bring them back and we do this whole world hopping adventure where the parents learn that,, minecraft can be fun? Actually?

They find the kid and the kid is like "nooo I'm having too much fun the real world SUCKS!!!" but then we do that "it's cool to have fun and indulge but you still need to be present in the real world and do real people things too in order to have that fun responsibly" where somehow the kid realizes that moderation is good for u.

Maybe they almost die in game fr fr? Every world they enter has its difficulty upped a little bit till they enter *gasp* a hardcore world (oh no)

So like the kid learns that you can't just lock yourself in the room and wish the world goes away while you play minecraft for 12 hours straight, and the parents learn that minecraft is cool and fun and can be a good outlet and outlets are important for adults and children alike. And also that they totally pulled a dick move and they need to try to understand their kid instead of just demanding the kid understands them

Somewhere along the way, the kid ends up in their friends server and the friends help to pull them out of the game w the parents

We end the movie with the kid making an effort to be more present with the parents, and the parents also making an effort to interact with the kid in ways that they know the kid will enjoy and respond well to— shown a family dinner scene where the kid very eagerly eats their food while talking about school, then they all go to play minecraft together

The end <3

Oh right and if you seriously want Jack Black there so fucking bad then make him either the dad or like. School computer teacher who helps the kid use Minecraft EU to learn science (shows off that some schools use minecraft for education purposes) who also helps the kids friends pull them and the parents out of the game

Overall, lots of themes not just about how the game is cool and can let you do cool shit, but also about how the community is cool, and how it's provided so many kids and adults outlets to express themselves and have fun together

That's how you do a game movie

Anyways yeah, minecraft movie looks shit. Hire me instead next time

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter pt 12

It all comes out sometime

"Jay?" You ask.

"Yeah its me. How the fuck did you get access to the coms?" He asks amused at your actions.

"Trust me hacking this isn't any harder than hydra files" You say passively, " Anyways that's not important, I think I can help with this Joker thing."

"Wait? Really?" He ask seriously, "Y/n, listen carefully, I need you to go into Bruce's office and find the big ass clock --"

"Yeah I already found the secret hide out" You say annoyed, "Mommy dearest kicked me out before I could tell her how I could help."

Jason sighed, knowing that his mother probably tried to use her mom voice on you. " Yeah, she told us she didn't want you to be in the whole vigilante think."

The anger that was simmering under your skin came back, but before you let it get the best of you, you continued. Knowing that this information was more important than whatever mommy issues you had.

"Right, well that's not important." You say," Listen to me now."

"I'm listening." Jason grunted, sounding like was punching someone,

"Whatever chemical agent Jackass put in his venom is the exact same stuff that was used to brainwash the Winter Soldier" You say quickly.

"Kid, I wanna believe you but how do you know that? Tim was just able to get a sample and process it."

"Because, I was told that every antidote you use only makes the effects stronger right?"

"Right" He says strained

"In order to make sure that the Winter Soldier stayed the Winter Soldier and not Bucky, Hydra had to make sure his brain produced a certain amount of hormones. And that whatever anybody used, the effects couldn't reverse. Hence chemical X."

"Chemical X?"

"The name is to long for me to attempt to pronounce, anyways, lucky for us, my daddy just so happened to create a serum that undoes Chemical X. And if I check," You pause, taking over the computer downstairs, and checking the sample Tim had sent in, " The component is there."

"Well I'll be damned"

"Exactly. Now, I need you to find a lab or something. This serum was made with the intention of being made on the fly. So everything you need should be there." You say pulling up a map of Gotham general.

"Wait, I need to tell Bruce." Jason said, " Joker said he had the only antidote and he's fighting him right now"

"No thats not possible. The only ones who know about it is my father and I." You said worridly.

Meanwhile while you were upstair lending a helping hand, downstairs Christine and Alfred were panicking because they lost control of Jason's com and the main computer.

'Alfred I can't find him" Christinen cried, " How did he just disappear like that?

"I don't know miss, there's no possible way he could've."

"Wait." Christine says looking up to the screen, " Bruce and Tim are gone"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How did you get con-"

"It's not important" You say cutting Batman off, " Listen to me, Joker doesn't have the cure."

"How do you know that?" The dark knight asks skeptically

"Because, until my dad figured it out, there was no cure." You say impatiently, " This chemical wasn't intended to have a cure."

"But you figured it out?"

"YES" You shout frustrated at the constant repetition, " DO you want the step by step or do you want to save lives?"

"hm" Bruce grunted, " And you know how to make it?"

"I do." You say earnestly

There was a pause, you heard grunting and what sounded like fighting in the background.

On Bruce's side, he managed to get the Joker disarmed and tied up.

He searched him for what he claimed was the vial containing the cure. But upon finding it, the Joker decided to throw his head back connecting with Batman's face. The sudden impact caused him to drop the vial, shattering it on the linoleum floor. The liquid oozing out and burning a hole into the floor.

"Ooops" the Joker cackled, " Aww poor Batsy, I guess I may have told a little white lie"

As Bruce rose from the floor, Robin ran in holding another vial

"Batman, the antidote." He says with a stern look on his face.

The smug smile fell from the Jokers face as he looked at the preteen.

"Thats...that's not possible!" Joker cried out, " There is no cure. There was never a cure."

Batman looked Joker straight in the eye, " No Joker, it looks like you miscalculated."

And with that, a swift punch to the face knocked the Joker out. A breath of relief flowed from the Batfamily. Now they can focus on what really mattered, helping the infected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in your room you paced, after explaining how to make the cure, you hadn't hear back from the family. The anxiety you had building up in you made your heart feel as of it was going to explode.

"Y/n" Jasons voice came from your computer, " It worked."

You felt like crying, " Really? Are you for real?'

"No I'm lying and everyone died" Jason said sarcastically, " Yes I'm for real."

"Thank god" You said wetly

"Oh god are you crying?" Jason said uncomfortably

"No." and with that you disconnected, allowing access back to the main computer downstairs. After doing that you sat on your be, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself. But the tears kept flowing. You were so worried that you didn't get the information to Bruce on time. You were worried about the people that were exposed for too long. The ones that the antidote may not have worked on.

You may have been able to help a few but how many more could you have saved if you were listened to right away. The anger simmered back in your body.

You hated that Christine treated you as if you were a child. She completely disregarded what you had to say and took a shot at your father. At least he was smart enough to know that you were capable of more than just sitting and twiddle your thumbs.

You had half a mind to go down there and give her a piece of you mind. But before you could, a chime came from your phone

"Hey Starky! guess who's on the neighborhood <3"

Wade?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the Batman co. finally made it back to the cave they all were exhausted. Every single one of them wanted to get home and take a shower. Dick and Jason would be staying at the manor simply because they couldn't muster up the energy to make their respective journeys back home. Damian and Cass were knocked out in the back of the batmobile and even Bruce was having a hard time staying awake while driving.

Honestly, ever since his family was created, Bruce/Batman became less about vengeance and more about protecting the city that he and his family live and care about. And maybe, if there was anyway that he can help mend the relationship between your family and his, perhaps you can be a part of his team as well, as sad at it was to say your hacking skills were way above his and Tims.

Lost in thought, Bruce didn't realized that when he pulled in Christine was in borderline hysterics and Alfred looked a little more frazzled than usual.

"Oh! Bruce!", Christine cried throwing herself into the confused bat, " What happened?! Is everyone one okay?"

"Christine, darling what are you-" Bruce was puzzled, Christine always had somewhat of a flair for the dramatics but there should be no reason for her to be this worried, especially because she's able to see everything .

"I thought we lost you! All of you!" Christine cried, eyes welling up with tears," The coms cut our for what felt like hours and then the main computer crashed! Me and Alfred both were barely able to get it rebooted before you got here!"

"Wait, if the main computer crashed then how was Y/n able to talk to us through the coms?" Tim asked tiredly, only jolting awake when Jason harshly elbowed him, signaling him to shut up about your participation.

"What do you mean? Y/n has been in her room this whole time." Christine says with a look of confusion on her face.

The batfamily all looked at each other, silently daring each other to step up and tell the truth, and face the wrath of their mother. Even Bruce didn't want to rat you out, knowing where Christine stood on her thoughts of you being involved.

Now don't get the wrong idea, Christine is by definition an overprotective mother. Theres no doubt about that. But there is a reason as to why she wants you out of the hero life and spot life in general.

Firstly, you are Tony Stark's daughter. There is no getting around that. And being Tony Stark's daughter also means you're Iron Mans daughter. And that is the whole reason you are there in Gotham in the first place. Amidst all the familial drama, everybody seemed to forget that you are still being hunted by an anonymous group. But Christine hasn't. Every night she lies awake worried to death that that was the night they found you. That they would come for you.

Secondly, the villians that her husband and family deal with are...for lack of words psychoic. If they figured out that you, Iron mans daughter, was helping their enemy Batman there would be more people after you. And from what Christine has witnessed these people do, the horrors and atrocities they casually commit. That frightens her even more.

So, with that being said, the look on her families face and the circumstances that had just occurred, it wasn't hard for her to figure out the cause of their technical malfunctions. And what a coincidence that these malfunctions only happened after you were sent to your room.

"Bruce.", Christine said in a clam even tone, " What are you not telling me." She didn't ask she demanded.

"Darling." Bruce said in a pleading tone, " It was a long night for everybody, why don't we just discuss it in the morning"

"Discuss it in the morning?" Christine asked incredulously, " Discuss it in the morning?! Do you know how worried I was? How worried WE were" She gestures to herself and Alfred who looked mildly uncomfortable to be put in the argument, " We thought you were injured or worse DEAD!"

The kids tried to slowly back out, inching towards the elevator that you totally didn't know was there.

"Don't even think about it" Christine said without looking at them, " How dare you all? How dare you? I asked ALL of you for one simple thing. Just one. To keep her OUT of it."

"Christine that's hardly fair-" Bruce started to say before getting cut off.

"No! It is totally fair! There are PEOPLE after her. People who are still out there by the way! Tony and his team haven't been able to find them! They keep slipping away whenever they get close! They are out there, trying to get MY daughter, for god knows what!"

Bruce glances towards the staircase entrance but before he can say anything Christine goes on, " DO you understand how hard it has been to keep anything from this world from her!"

"Ma she grew up in this world, it's not fair to just cut her out" Jason cuts in, " She feels left out because we're all pretending like we aren't who we are and pretending as of we don't have The Tony Starks daughter in our house. She's not a civilian, she's in it."

"She is not just Tonys daughter she's mine too!" Christine shouts before tears start to drop from her eyes, " Shes MINE, she can't be taken from me."

In the batmobile, Cass buries her face into a sleeping Damians chest.

"Mom, do you think any of us would let that happen?" Dick finally speaks up, " I mean, come on have a little faith"

" I just wanted her to stay out of it, to get out for good."

" Darling, that girl was not made to stay out of things, look at whp her parents are," Bruce chuckled, " Besides, she's never going to come around if we don't fully open ourselves up to her as well."

"You have to admit Ma, fighting is the only way any of us bonded" Jason says, " Except me, she likes me."

"I don't know why " Dick says with a frown, still bitter at the fact that you had bonded with Jason before him.

Christine sniffled before saying, " I still need to go talk to her, the way she cut us off was unacceptable."

"But-" Tim finally spoke out but it was too late, Christine was already marching to the elevator, mind made up about scolding you for what she thought was a practical joke.

The rest of the team was left in the Bat cave shaking their heads at their mothers stubbornness.

Bruce's sighed and started to put things away, " There's going to be fight and I don't want to be in the middle of that."

The three awake boys nodded.

" Someone wake up Damian and Cass, they need to go to bed."

Jason and Dick pushed Tim forward, if there was one other thing they didn't want to get in the middle of, was those two and their sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back upstairs you were filled to the brim with anger. You had gone downstairs to greet the returning heroes and rub your success in Christines face, only to overhear what you had already confirmed.

Christine had been purposefully keeping things from you. Not only about Bruce being Batman ( Which you already knew), but about your situation.

See, when you had first moved to Gotham, you knew that there would be almost little to no contact with your family. The few times you were able to talk to someone from back home it wasn't even your parents. Something about phone lines being traceable and unreliable.

The only line of communication was given to you by Natasha before you left, a single flip burner phone that was only to be used for emergencies.

But Christine apparently was getting updates directly from your father. Updates you were sure were meant to be given to you. So not only had she had a hand in the intentional isolation of you from her family, she was trying to isolate you from yours as well.

It made you so angry! You already have sacrificed so much just to be here and you didn't even want to be there in the first place. You ripped open your laptop and went to do a little digging. Upon doing that, you found about a dozen of lengthy emails from your father describing in great lengths about your situation and details about life back home. These emails were obviously meant to be read by you and they all were marked as read and filed away. How they got to the Batcomputer was unknown to you but as you scanned each word tears welled up into your eyes, you father had not forgot about you.

You sat on the bed, taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You managed to restrain yourself and not blow up at that woman in front of her whole family and you really were trying to calm down so you can have a mature conversation about it.

You were trying.

but then, "Y/n Stark how dare you disobey your mother!"

What?

"What?" You say eyes ripping open and anger finally bubbling over

"How dare you! I asked you for one thing! All I wanted was to make sure my family would have been okay!"

"And are they dead?" You ask bluntly, " Is everyone who was infected dead?"

Christine turned red, " That is not the point young lady and I don't appreciate you talking about your family like that."

"They are NOT my family!" You shout, " You are not my family"

'Y/n" Christine start but now you were the one to cut her off

"NO, and since we are on the topic of not appreciating things lets talk about how I don't appreciate how you have been deliberately LYING to me."

"Excuse me?" Christine asks angrily, " I will have you know that I do not have to disclose every single piece of information I have to yo."

" Not even when it's about my own father." You said with an even tone, " Or do you not have to disclose that piece of information to me."

Christine lifts her chine, " Y/n I have no idea what you are talking about?"

"Oh you don't?" You ask," So you and your husband aren't hiding emails from my father to me in that big ass computer?"

Eyes widen, " How do you -"

"How do I know about that?" You mock, " So it's true?"

"Y/n that's not the point" Christine started, " Your practical joke could have seriously put the lives of your siblings in danger."

" My siblings?" You ask, " They are not my siblings! I don't even know those people!"

Christine stays quiet, then shakes her head, " If you would just come out of the room and get to know them other than Jason-"

"Why so they could tell me how great you are?' You say, " So they can tell me memories they have of you being a good mother to them?"

Christine's eyes well up with tears, " Y/n that's not fair"

"Oh that not fair to you, mom?" you shout, " And it was so fair to me when you left me to raise another kid?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hallway Dick and Jason are paused half way up the staircase.

Dicks heart falls into his stomach at your comment, knowing that that kid you were talking about was him.

Jason on the other hand had a grim look on his face. He knew that this conversation needed to happen in order for anything to move on.He knew the years of resentment you were holding on to. It wasn't fair to you that everyone in this house had this subconscious expectation that you should just put those years behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That is not what happened" Christine says wetly, " It was just hard, Y/n you don't understand."

"Hard?!" You shout angerliy, " It was hard? Hard for you to visit your daughter once every three fucking months? Was it hard for you to lead my dad on then crush his heart every time you left?"

"NO Y/N thats not true" Christine shouted but before she could continue you went on

"No???" you mocked, " Then what was it mom?"

" Everytime I went to see you, you had grown." Christine sniffs, " You had grown and had new adventures and stories and milestones that i was not a part of. I-"

"OH bullshit!" You shout

"Y/n." Christine says sadly

"NO, no you don't get to play that card! You left by choice!" You cry, " You left me by choice, you hid me away by choice! You chose this life for us."

" I loved you so much. I LOVE you so much Y/n!"

"You have a funny way of showing it." You say dryly, " You have this perfect life here. Perfect husband, a shit load of kids who adore you. I adored you. Why wasn't I enough?"

Christine's heartbroke and she couldn't answer you because truthfully, she didn't have an answer.

"And the one parent I was enough for I had to leave. I had to leave him and my mother behind for my other one who didn't want me. And I'm stuck in a house full of these kids who adore you and didn't know that I adored you well before them. And yet even though I'm here I'm alone. And that still isn't enough for you."

Christine wanted to say you weren't alone. You weren't because you have her. She's here for you, but that wasn't true. She hadn't been there. She wasn't there even when she was.

"You had to make me think my father forgot about me the way you did for what? So I can like you again? So I could forget all the times you promised you were going to come see me and you didn't? Why?"

"I..I just wanted to keep you safe.." Christine spouted pathetically.

"Safe?" You said, herding her towards your door, " No, everything you've done is because you want to look better. You're selfish. That's what you've always been"

And with that you slam the door in her face, startling the boys on the stairs and Christine as she didn't even realize that she was in the hallway.

Staring at your door she wept. For once, truly feeling the regret that she said she had been feeling. She did truly love you, she had not lied about that. To hear you finally say how you weren't enough for her broke her heart.

"Ma..are you okay?" Jason softly asked as Dick went to knock at your door, a bit angry at the way you spoke to his mother,

"Leave her be." A soft voice demanded from the hallway, " Dick, leave her be. Your mother was not the only one hurt in that conversation."

Bruce walked to Christine, and gently lead her to their room.

Upon the commotion outside, no one heard you open your window and slip out.

"It's about time, I almost died waiting for you."

"You can't die, that's your whole thing." You reply, wiping tears from your face.

"You're crying." Wade says in an unnaturally serious voice, " Do I have to kill your hot mom?"

You cringe, " No, just get me out of here."

"I could do that, actually I have a surprise for you~" He sings as he leads you to his taxi...

You heard what sounds like banging coming from the trunk and you're slightly scared to open it.

"Wade.."

"Oh don't be a pussy" He says opening the trunk.

Popping out with a gasp is

"Peter?" You say with a sigh, eyes welling up with tears again. You truly have missed your friends.

"That was not cool Wade!" He shouts, not grasping where he was, " The trunk smelled like nachos and vomit! I couldn't nngh-"

He grunts as you throw yourself into his arms, " Y/n.."

His arms wrap around you tightly, " Y/n what are you.. Where am I?"

"Gotham, now get me the hell out of here."

And with that, you're loaded into the car, taking the backseat with Peter and Wade in the front with an Indian man.

"Y/n this is Dopiender"

"Hello ms. Stark, I promise I will defend you with my life."

"Oh...well, thank you."

"This was surprisingly easy." Wade said as they pulled out of the long driveway, " Bruce Wayne should update his security."

What they didn't know, was that a pair of bright green eyes watched your reunion through the security camera in the Batcave. Squinting as they saw the tears flow freely through your face and noting the license plate and the men you were with.

[marveloustimestwo]

Hii :))) please can I request some general headcanons for platonic tony stark? Sorry I don't have anything specific

Hello :) I'm always happy to do general headcanons for characters, so thanks for sending this in!

Warnings: Yandere themes, talk of Tony's daddy issues

I can see Tony getting attached in a few ways.

The easiest way this could happen is if you were his biological child, especially if you came from his Playboy days and he only found out a few years after you were born.

Tony can admit that he never had a good relationship with his father. The man had always been away for work, and even when he was home, he was cold and affectionless.

So in a case where he suddenly figures out that he has a kid whom he didn't have the chance to meet for several years, he will heavily overcompensate.

He never wants to be like his own dad and the fact that he wasn't around for the first few years will have him scrambling to make up for that.

Of course, the easiest way for Tony to do that initially is with his money. Depending on how old you are, he'll get you gifts that range from toys to books to super fancy computers.

And when he finds out what some of your interests are, you'll have far more than you would need to entertain those interests.

If you're an artist, you'll have all that you could need for your medium, such as incredibly expensive paint sets or the most expensive drawing tablet he could find.

If you enjoy reading, you'll have the most extensive library you could ever need, all right at your fingertips.

And Tony would be especially ecstatic if you were interested in science.

He wouldn't be like his father. Whatever interest you have, he'll be more than happy to learn about it just so he can spend time with you.

All those years without him won't mean much now that he's around all the time.

But if you take after him and are especially smart in science/robotics, you will not have a moment of peace.

He already spends hours in his lab, battling insomnia and nightmares, but you make it better. Now, working isn't just something to distract him, it's also something to bond with you over.

Even if the specific branch of science you're interested in is something he doesn't know yet, he would have no problem learning it.

Tony would happily spend hours in the lab with you, either building things with you or doing his own thing while you worked on your own interests.

The only things that would pull him out of it would be Pepper or Jarvis, who would have to remind him to take care of his own and your physical needs.

In that sort of situation, Tony would not take being separated from you again lightly. If your mother has issues with the way he interacts with you, he would have no problem trying to get full custody.

It would be rather easy considering he's filthy rich, but he'd still rather you have your mother in your life.

Another way I could see him becoming like this is obviously with Pepper.

It'd be like a dampened-down version of the last scenario. He'd want to be better than his father now that he has you, except unlike the previous scenario, he has all the time in the world to do it.

Especially since Pepper can and will keep him in check, so he won't overdo it completely. Tony just sees it as him screwing over his father and showing him that it can be done right.

Thirdly, while I think this is a little more unlikely, you could also be someone younger Tony ends up taking under his wing.

Especially if you're a young hero. If you work around or closely with the Avengers in some way, and he finds out that you're in your teens or early twenties, he will do his best to make sure you don't end up like him.

Tony has a lot of guilt, trauma, and PTSD from being a hero. He can recognize he was extremely arrogant when he was younger, and he didn't take things as seriously as he should have.

If he could save you from all of that, he would in a heartbeat.

Plotonically, Tony will try to do everything he can to make you feel loved. He refuses to be like his father. No matter what, you will know exactly how much he would do for you.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The excitement you feel for your promotion ceremony gets tamped down by everything else going on. You feel like Cat is toying with Jake. You're anxious about your husband leaving for eight weeks. And you're hurt by what he says to you on your special night. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"Hey there, big shot," Jake drawled from your lab doorway. It was early in the morning a few days before your promotion banquet, and you were the only one in the quiet space. Your plan had been to get to work early so you had a chance to get your nails done later, but you could already see that slipping away as he strolled in and made himself cozy. 

"Hi, Jake," you said softly. You'd been avoiding him, and he must know it. But he'd hurt your feelings by not telling you that he and Cat were...something. You could understand why she would decide not to mention it to you. But Jake? You considered him to be one of your best friends. But if he wasn't going to tell you about Cat, then you weren't going to tell him you saw them kissing in the tower. 

"You okay, Angel? Haven't seen you around much. Seen plenty of ol' Rooster's ugly mug, but none of you." His green eyes and slightly raised brow were a good indicator that he was not going to let you off so easily. 

You opened your mouth, about to tell him you'd seen plenty of him in the rec room with Cat, when suddenly she strolled in with her computer and a cup of coffee. The way she and Jake both froze up when their gazes met would have been comical if you weren't so damn annoyed with both of them. 

Jake flushed a shade of pink you never imagined you'd see on his face in a million years, and he cleared his throat as Cat walked coolly across the room toward her usual seat. "Oh, good morning," she said to both of you, taking in Jake's form from the corner of her eye. 

"Lieutenant Coleman," he replied with a dreamy look in his eyes. But Cat said nothing more, nor did she even acknowledge that he had spoken to her. But he wasn't deterred. He told you weeks ago that he planned on asking her out until she said yes. And he did it right in front of you. "Lieutenant, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner with me tonight?"

"No," she replied without looking at him. "No, thank you."

You rubbed at your temples, so frustrated by both of them as Jake leaned in close to you and said, "I think I almost have her. Later, Angel." And as soon as he left your workspace, you rounded on Cat.

"Can you please explain to me what is going on?" you snapped. 

She raised one eyebrow at you as she glanced over her shoulder. "Regarding?"

"Jake!" you nearly shouted.

"Oh," she replied with a shrug. "He keeps asking me out."

You slammed your computer closed and stood, and you didn't care that you were kind of looming over her. "I saw you with him. In the rec room. When we were working comms in the tower."

Cat's lips parted, but no sound came out. 

"Did you even care about going out with Cam? Or was all of this some deranged plot against Jake? Because both of them are my friends, Lieutenant Coleman."

Finally she was looking up at you with some remorse in her dark eyes. "I was thrilled when Cam asked me out, truly. But he doesn't like kids, and then the rest of the night just went downhill for me."

You nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "What about Jake?" you asked, pleased to hear that your voice sounded calmer now. 

"He's a flirt," she said without expression. "He seems interested in me. And he's gorgeous. But I can't take a man like that seriously."

"He's my friend," you reiterated, overanunciating every syllable, "and despite how it appears, he is a sweet man with fragile emotions. Please don't toy with him."

She clearly wanted to say something else, but you were on the verge of shedding some tears that would make you look like a foolish child, so you excused yourself and took your computer back to your office. 

You were overly emotional. You knew that. It was everything all at once, and your body couldn't forget the muscle memory of holding Jeremiah in your arms. Conversing with Cat was already hard enough for you; it always had been. But on top of her having Jeremiah, now she was messing with Jake's feelings and seemed to have no remorse about it at all. 

As you closed your door behind you and sank down into your desk chair, you swiped at your tears. As soon as your promotion banquet was complete, Bradley would be leaving you for two months. You were going to miss two months of trying to get pregnant. Everything you did felt like a waste of time and energy, and you half wanted to stop trying for something that felt impossible anyway. 

"Fuck," you whispered, blowing your nose with a napkin you found in your desk drawer. It was sitting next to your old nameplate, the one from before you got married and hyphenated your last name. This time next week, your husband would be well and truly in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, surrounded by young pilots who could probably get pregnant if they wanted to. "What is wrong with you?" you asked yourself out loud, but your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. 

You swallowed down the rest of your tears and texted Bradley.

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

Bradley waited in line impatiently, grabbing two sandwiches, because they seemed like the quickest option. You wanted him to bring lunch up to your office and eat with you there. It was his personal goal to try to make you as happy as he could for the next few days and fuck you nonstop right before he left when you were ovulating. Seemed like a solid plan. He grabbed a few packets of hot sauce just to make you smile and then headed for your office. 

As soon as you opened the door for him, you were tucked against his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist. "Miss me?" he asked, kissing the top of your head. 

"Little bit," you replied. "How was your morning?" 

You pushed him toward your desk chair and then settled onto his lap once he was seated. Any meal where you and he shared a chair or a plate was his favorite kind of meal. He never liked sharing anything before he met you, but now he didn't like being without you at all. 

"My morning was better than Jake's," he said, taking a bite of one of the sandwiches while you drizzled hot sauce on the other one. "I don't know what he did to piss off Hondo, but it's been weeks now of never ending pushups and running laps around the buildings and through the drainage ditch. It's fucked up, but he's taking it on the chin."

"That's not cool at all," you said, glancing at him before you nibbled on your lunch. 

"How was your morning?" he asked, still daydreaming about how he woke up with your hand on his cock. 

"Eh, not great. Honestly? Cat Coleman is once again kind of on my shit list. And I didn't tell you this before but, Roo... I saw her and Jake making out in the rec room, and I really just feel like she's on some sort of mission to......."

You were still talking, but Bradley's brain was processing too many things at once. Oh. 

"Oh," he said, leaning forward and kissing your lips, completely cutting you off. "Sweetheart. Cat Coleman."

You gave him a weird look. "Yeah, Roo. That's what I said. You know Cat." You were speaking slowly and looking at him cautiously. 

"No, Baby Girl. Cat Coleman. Coleman! And Hondo! Holy hell, that's why Jake can't get a fucking break all of a sudden. Because of Cat Coleman."

You gasped and practically tossed your sandwich onto the desk. "I completely forgot Hondo's last name, because he's just Hondo. But that's her Uncle Bernie!" 

Bradley watched your gaze go hazy as he finished his food. Did Jake know about the relation between Hondo and Cat by this point? Did he know that's why he was getting his ass handed to him every day? Did he care?

"Bradley," you snapped, now looking right at him. "Cat's letting Jake take hundreds of extra push ups every day? Like this is fun for her or something?"

"Well, hang on," he started, because he didn't know Cat well, but she seemed okay. "Maybe she doesn't know about Uncle Hondo running Jake ragged."

But he could tell you were seething now, and apparently his warm, cuddly lunch was over, because you stood and thrust your sandwich into his hand. "I'm not hungry anymore," you muttered, pulling your phone out.

Bradley sighed and finished your sandwich in three bites and stood as well. "Don't worry about Jake too much," he whispered, kissing your neck as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You smelled good. He wanted to run his nose and lips all over your body, undress you inch by inch and take his time with you. He knew you would be ovulating soon, and he thought maybe a quickie would be good? Maybe get a jump start on the month?

"I've got to go talk to Cam," you said. "Will you lock my door when you leave?" You kissed his cheek and then you were gone. So he took a minute to make sure his erection wasn't visible, and then he locked your door before heading back to the tower. 

It looked like Jake didn't even get a lunch break. He was soaked with sweat, and it wasn't even that hot out. Bradley watched him finish some push ups before getting to his feet and standing at attention for Hondo to lay into him. Bradley stood still, not wanting to get Jake into any extra trouble. But no matter what Hondo was saying, Jake only showed him the highest level of respect. 

When Jake started to head inside where everyone would regroup for the afternoon, Bradley followed him. "If I knew you weren't getting lunch, I would have brought you the hot sauce contaminated thing my wife didn't eat."

"Nah," Jake said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "It's cool."

He seemed very relaxed about his push ups. Bradley wasn't sure what he should do or say. He wasn't sure how much Jake knew about Hondo. However... if he was no longer complaining about being singled out in these punishments... surely he must know.

He couldn't catch himself before he blurted out, "She saw you, man. She saw you and Cat."

Jake's eyes went wide, and he stopped wiping at his sweaty brow. "Angel saw us?"

"Yeah. And I sincerely hope you know what you're getting into here. You know who Hondo is?"

Jake nodded and softly said, "Yeah. Figured that one out on my own from the last name, and the fact that they're both from Maryland and do look a little similar."

"So what?" Bradley asked, shrugging sarcastically. "You're going to just let Hondo wear you down bit by bit? Even though you've been flying great? I take it he adamantly objects to you fucking his niece?"

Jake's eyes flashed with anger as he rounded on Bradley. "I'm not fucking her. I'm not fucking anyone, okay? I thought I made that clear."

"Okay," Bradley said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

"That's not even why I like her so much," Jake grunted. "I asked her out a bunch of times after she had that bad date with Cam Harvey. One day I asked her when we were alone in the elevator, and she told me to shut up, and then she kissed me. And then she kissed me again in the hangar. And then she kissed me in the rec room, and fuck... I don't know what to do. Because we made out in my car yesterday. And I asked her out again, and she told me no. Again."

Bradley was trying not to laugh out loud, so he simply said, "My wife is kind of pissed at you, I think. Please fix that." And then he headed for the stairs leaving Jake sweating for more than one reason. 

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

You had been avoiding everyone else for the past few days, not only because you were sick of the bullshit, but also so you could spend more time with Bradley. You started tracking when you were ovulating on your phone, but you hadn't told him about it. You didn't even really like thinking about it yourself, but since you had a visit with your doctor coming up, you wanted to be able to talk about your fertility. 

Bradley let you sleep in late on Saturday, and when you finally rolled out of bed, the smell of coffee and toast had your stomach growling. When you went into the kitchen, Bradley was naked, leaning against the counter and reading something he got in the mail. Tramp was sitting at his feet, hoping for a little snack. As Bradley raised a piece of toast to his mouth, he turned to look at you. 

"Morning, Sweetheart," he said, clearly startled as he flattened down the mail and tossed it carefully aside. 

"You're naked," you whispered, taking your time, letting your gaze wander everywhere. The tattoo on his right bicep made your skin feel warm, and his thick cock had you licking your lips. 

"Yeah, I've gotta wear a suit all night. I'm trying to get my freedom in now," he said with a grin.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled, closing the distance to him and pressing your lips to his tattoo. 

He wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to your ear, keeping you in place as the prickle of his mustache had more laughter bubbling out of you. "You want me to make you some toast?"

"How long have we been together, and you still only know how to make toast?" you asked, turning your head to kiss his lips. 

"Hey, be nice. I get better every day."

You licked his mustache, and Bradley's cock throbbed against your belly. "Yeah, you do, Roo," you whispered, smiling against his lips. As your fingertips brushed along his scarred cheek, he slowly reached for the hem of his soft UVA tee that you were wearing. You shivered as he guided the fabric up, skimming your body with his fingertips as he went. "You get better and better," you moaned. 

The shirt was discarded across the room, and Bradley's hand went right to your dainty Rooster tattoo before he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the kitchen counter as you squeaked. He sighed deeply as he planted his palms on the counter on either side of your butt and leaned in close to you.

"You don't even want toast, do you?" he asked, brushing your lips with his as you looped your arms around his neck.  

"No," you whispered, nipping at him as he pulled away a few inches. "I don't want toast."

You spread your legs wide and let your toes trail up and down his legs, urging him closer, but he just smirked. "Tell me what you want, Baby Girl. I want to hear you say it."

His tip was right there, teasing your entrance with his precum as your head tipped back, and a soft, needy sound escaped you. Bradley's hands went to your hips, fingers digging gently into your flesh. When you met his eyes, you knew he was ready to go, but you knew he wouldn't until you told him.

"I want something sweet for breakfast. A creampie from my husband."

"God damnit," Bradley groaned as his big hands squeezed your hips. "I'm all yours."

As you scooted to the very edge of the counter and took his length in one of your hands, you guided him inside you where he belonged. "Yeah, you are," you confirmed, and then he started thrusting. You had to hold on tight as he whispered the loveliest things that made you feel like you were going to float away.

"I love you."

"You're perfect."

"I was made for you."

"Show me your pretty eyes when you cum for me."

So you did. And even though you were sweaty and your glasses were crooked on your nose, Bradley told you that you were everything he wanted, and he gave you that sweet creempie after serving up a delicious orgasm on a silver platter.

You kept him buried deep, his lips on your shoulder as you cradled his head and stroked your fingers through his hair. "I love you, Roo." He continued to treat your oversensitive skin to his lips and hands, making no move to leave you yet. After a few more minutes, when his mouth settled on your collar bone and your hands were enjoying the feel of his biceps, you thought he might get hard again while he was still inside you. 

Just as your pussy pulsed with excitement at the idea, Tramp ran to the front door, barking up a storm. Bradley leaned to the side and groaned as he looked out the window. "It's Jake's car."

You whined and tried to keep him in place, but Bradley pulled his cock free of your pussy, and you knew his cum was dripping onto the granite counter by the look on his face. "So pretty," he whispered, swiping his fingers through the mess quickly, and when you parted your lips, he slipped his fingers into your mouth. "Such a filthy wife." You sucked his fingers clean, and then there was a hard knock on the door, and you were scrambling for your shirt. Bradley ran to the bedroom, but a few seconds later, he threw you a pair of your leggings. 

"I'm getting in the shower," he informed you as you pulled your leggings up over your messy, sticky thighs. 

He was gone again as there was another knock on the door. "I'm coming!" you shouted, giggling, because you just did. But when you opened the door, Jake was standing there with a huge bouquet of flowers. "Hi," you said a little cautiously. 

"Angel," he drawled, handing the blooms to you with a shrug. "You gonna invite me in?"

You could hear the shower start up in your bathroom along with one of Bradley's playlists. "Sure." He slipped past you and started playing with Tramp. "What are the flowers for?"

He looked at you like you were very dense. "You're being promoted tonight, Lieutenant Commander. And, I've been a bit of an ass."

You snorted and carried the flowers to the kitchen, setting them down next to Bradley's mail pile. "Well, that's nothing new."

"No," he replied, "I suppose not. But I was rude to you the other morning, ignoring you as soon as Cat got there."

You sighed and eyed him carefully. "You shouldn't let her take advantage of you. I know about you and Cat, okay? I saw you in the tower like a week and a half ago, kissing in the rec room." Your voice sounded bitter, and you felt like you needed to defend yourself, but he was already talking. 

"I know you know. Rooster told me. And I'm sorry you didn't hear it from me first, Angel." His brow was creased, and he was looking at the floor.

"Why do you look sad? You're dating Cat."

He met your eyes instantly. "Is that what you think? Angel, she won't go out with me at all. I've asked so many times, but she just wants to mess around." He ran his hand up and down the back of his neck and muttered, "I'm getting the impression she wants to sleep with me as long as I'm willing to keep it quiet."

Your blood was absolutely boiling now as you pulled him into a hug.

"Hey, no, it's okay," he whispered, patting your back before pulling away again. "I didn't even come here to talk about that. I just wanted to say good luck, and I can't wait to see your new pin next week. Oh, and I'll be around if you need anything when Rooster's gone."

Just then your husband strolled back into the kitchen, thankfully wearing clothes this time. He just picked up his mug of what must be room temperature coffee and kissed your cheek. "Listen to Jake, Sweetheart. You call him first if anything happens."

You rolled your eyes as Bradley smirked and leaned against the counter where you'd recently been sitting, stuffed full of his cock. "I will." 

The three of you chatted for a bit, but when you noticed that it was noon, you kicked Jake out so you could start getting ready for the night. But you were happy Jake had stopped by. It made you beyond upset that Cat was toying with him, but he wouldn't talk about it any further. 

When Bradley led you through your bedroom and into the bathroom, you smiled. "Why don't you take a nice, long bath before we get ready to go?'

You kissed him as he patted your butt and leaned down to get the water ready for you. And then he brought you a flute of champagne and a sandwich, and you soaked until the water started to turn cold. 

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

Bradley didn't know why he was so nervous. He had been nowhere near this bad when he was the one being promoted to Lieutenant Commander. But now that it was your turn, it was a combination of so many things. He was proud of you, and he wanted everyone to know it. He watched you get dressed earlier, and he knew that you were wearing one of your matching sets of sexy honeymoon underwear. He was nervous he'd put your pin on wrong. He was supposed to be texting photos to your parents. 

And you were ovulating, and he had a hotel room upstairs all ready for the two of you. This morning in the kitchen had been a real spur of the moment treat. He'd loved that. But he knew that you and he needed to get serious over the next day and a half before he left on deployment. 

He was spending so much time thinking about your cycle, that he almost forgot to take a picture of you being introduced with Captain Bickel and some other guy from your lab who was also being promoted. The urge to stand up, point you out and let everyone know you were his wife was strong, but he kept it together. He was, however, clapping the loudest for you. 

Your eyes caught his where he sat at the banquet table in the hotel ballroom, and he couldn't believe you were his. You were charming, beautiful and so smart, and you had that little tattoo just for him. He was obsessed, and he just knew a baby would happen eventually. It had to. You'd be the perfect mom, just like Carole. And he'd learn how to be a good dad, just like Goose. Bradley was already spending so much time thinking about baby names and the fact that he wouldn't mind a job teaching at Top Gun versus constantly flying missions.

"Oh shit," he muttered, jumping to his feet. It was time for him to pin you. Time for him to officially make you a Lieutenant Commander. He lined up off to the side of the small stage, waiting for his turn. Your bright smile and the soft curve of your cheek had his heart thudding in his chest. Nobody deserved this shit more than you did, and your smile just grew when he walked across the stage with your new pin in his hand. 

Bradley let his fingers skim along the white fabric of your jacket as he whispered, "Hey, Baby Girl."

"Hi, Roo," you replied, and he kissed your cheek softly before he added the little gold pin to your jacket that would make everyone stop and salute you. 

He patted it in place and said, "I'm proud of you." And then as an officer himself, he saluted you, and you reciprocated with a smile just for him before he left you up on the stage in the spotlight. Then your boss said so many flattering things about your work ethic and your character. And by the time you were dismissed from the stage, you came running into his arms. 

He held you against him, and you snuggled into his suit coat. When you eventually met his gaze with the most innocent looking expression on your face, he should have known you were about to make him blush. "Roo," you whined softly. "Admiral Simpson isn't here tonight. Who's desk are you doing to fuck me on, Daddy?"

You were a handful, literally and figuratively. His hands slid down your lower back to the top of the swell of your ass. "I thought you might ask about that. I got us a suite for the night. Penthouse. Pink champagne. A nice big desk with no time restraints and nobody to interrupt us."

Adoration washed over your face as you kissed his neck just above his shirt collar. "You're the best."

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

Sitting through dinner between your boss and your husband was challenging, but after a glass of wine, you managed to pull it off. On one side of you, Bickel was talking about your lab. On the other side, Bradley was whispering about eating your pussy. 

As soon as dancing started, you took Bradley by the hand and let him out into the lobby. "You're done?" he asked with a smirk. 

"Yes, I'm done. Take me to our suite and do all that shit you just promised me."

"Anything you want, Lieutenant Commander," he rasped next to your ear as he removed your hat and handed it to you. As you waited for the elevator, his lips were on your hair and his hands were working on the buttons of your jacket while he hummed a song. You were so horny, you were ready to burst, probably because you were ovulating. But you'd barely been thinking about that at all. You just wanted your husband nonstop. That's what you were focusing on. 

"Fuck me on the desk," you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall of the elevator next to the control panel and selected the top floor. His hands were smooth as he unzipped your pants and eased his hand inside. 

"I'm going to fuck you everywhere." His body was huge and warm, and he had you boxed in. "I want you to keep that sexy bra on for me. Reminds me of our honeymoon."

You moaned so loudly, you barely heard the bell indicating that you'd arrived at your floor. Bradley picked you up and carried you out into the hallway where a family was waiting to go downstairs. "Evening," he muttered unapologetically as you giggled and sucked on his neck. He looked delicious in his blue suit, but you wanted him out of it, and you wanted his cock inside you.

As soon as you saw the beautiful hotel suite and chilled champagne, Bradley had you on the desk on your back, and he was leaning over you. "You gonna let me eat that pussy, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Yes, sir!" you whined before he kissed you hard and sloppy. He was working your shoes, socks, pants and underwear off, and soon you were there in your unbuttoned jacket and wrinkly shirt, naked from the waist down. The cool air on your skin had you tugging him by his hair until he released your lips. "Get to work," you commanded, and his mustache twitched as he smiled and slipped two thick fingers inside you. "Oh!"

"Don't rush me," he grunted slowly, pushing his fingers deeper. "I have plans for this pussy. I'll take care of everything."

And he did. He knelt on the floor and pulled you closer to his mouth, blowing softly until you were whining and begging to be touched. And then he ate you out until you had tears in your eyes. 

"You're dripping onto the desk, Sweetheart," Bradley muttered reverently. "Oh my god." He licked a stripe from your asshole all the way to your clit, and you could tell you were about to cum. He used his wicked mouth and fingers in tandem until you were grasping the edge of the desk and panting. And then you came for him when he told you to. 

When you sat up in a puddle of your own juices, you were dizzy and disoriented. Bradley stripped you down to just your white bra as you enjoyed the aftershocks of your orgasm. And then while he was still dressed in his blue suit with just his hard cock hanging out the front of his pants, he kissed you softly.

"Spread 'em nice and wide for me," he instructed, squeezing your thighs. "Show me that pussy." You did as you were told, because you were smart. Your husband had plans for you. He fucked you silly so that you were leaning back with your hands braced on the desk. Bradley was big and strong, and he managed to get just the right leverage so that you were seeing stars and gasping for air with every hard stroke. It almost hurt. But it felt too good at the same time. 

"Roo," you groaned, mouth hanging open and legs spread wide. His face was red, and the veins in his neck were prominent. You wanted to lick them and the beads of sweat dripping down his cheek, but he had you pinned in place by your hips. And he didn't slow his pace until he came inside you, chanting praises about your tight pussy and your pretty tits. 

And you were still a little dizzy as you and he climbed in bed, unwilling to clean up his cum before you got cozy. You were snuggling on top of him, giggling as his suit was half on his body and half off, and he was kissing your face as he caught his breath. 

"I like promotion banquet hotel room desks," you whispered, wondering if it was a good time to go pop that bottle of champagne. 

"Fuck, Baby Girl. I like everywhere with you," he groaned, tightening his arm around you. So you decided to forego that champagne for now and bury your nose against his neck where you felt warm and loved. 

You were about to tell him how much you were going to miss him for the next eight weeks. Your lips were parted, and the words were right there. But then he kissed your forehead and said, "Okay, I was looking at the calendar earlier, and your cycle is really working in our favor. You're ovulating now, and you should be ovulating again when I get back, so really, we're only going to miss out on one month of trying."

You swallowed hard and remained silent, but your heart was beating faster in a way that was making you feel nauseous, and your lip was quivering. 

"Roo," you whispered, unsure what to say. 

"I know," he added. "It's not ideal that I'm leaving now, but at least it's not for any longer. I've been thinking about it a lot, and taking a month off isn't the end of the world."

Tears leaked from your eyes, hot and angry. It was no use trying to hide them. He knew you were crying right away. "What?" he asked, surprised by your reaction. 

You jerked your body away from his and wiped at your eyes. Suddenly you wished you were wearing more than just your bra as you gasped, "I was enjoying my night! I wasn't even thinking about that!"

He looked like you'd physically hit him. "Oh. It's just that I'm always thinking about that, Sweetheart."

"Me too!" you replied, hands shaking as you climbed out of bed. "But taking one fucking night off to be proud of myself for something in my life that I can control was feeling really good!"

He looked at you cautiously as you found your underwear and then dug around in your overnight bag for more clothing. "I'm proud of you, Baby Girl. I told you that."

"Yeah," you snapped, pulling on a tee shirt. "And then you fucking ruined it by acting like I'm a job to be done. Like getting me pregnant is something to check off your list of chores." You threw your arms out to your sides as you stood in front of where he was still laying on the bed. "But guess what, Bradley. I'm not pregnant. Sorry. I'm sorry your chores are taking so long for you to complete!"

You choked and started sobbing on the last word, and when he reached for you, he was decidedly the last thing you wanted right now. Instead you turned toward the bathroom where you could be angry and hurt in peace.

A few minutes later, you were curled up on the bath mat when he knocked softly on the door. When you didn't respond, he tried the handle which you had locked. "Will you let me come in?" he asked softly. 

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight off all of the intrusive thoughts that were already filling your head and heart. Your voice was quiet and hollow as you said, "I'm sorry I can't give you what you want." And eventually you fell asleep right there between the toilet and the tub.

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

Roo, you're a team, sweet boy. Baby Girl, you're perfect. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Starting Your Freshman Year at Greendale and Joining the Study Group

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Requested by: Anon

Headcanons for being a new freshman at Greendale and becoming a member of the study group?

Ohh sorry i didn’t clarify! it doesn’t matter to me, i just liked the idea of the reader kinda being the baby of the group, so maybe everyone is in their later years at greendale?

Relationship(s): The Study Group (Jeff, Britta, Annie, Troy, Abed, Shirley and Pierce) x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: References to underage drinking. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I started writing this literal years ago, but I rewatched the Community Christmas episodes today and it’s made me want to rewatch all of Community and start writing for it again. Not enough people write for it, and not enough people write gender-neutral-reader fics. This was like 90% done so it was a good place to start again. I went with making it so the reader joins the Study Group during season 3, since I had the idea of using the reader to replace Todd in the episode where none of them want to work with him. I haven’t followed the canon of season 3 verbatim, since it’d have made writing this kinda difficult (plus I haven’t seen season 3 in years). So, this is more general. I’m hoping to work through my list of Community requests from years ago throughout 2024, since I’m hoping to get more into the habit of putting aside time for writing.)

When you decided on taking Biology 101 during your first semester at Greendale, you were bound to learn of (and witness first hand) the notorious Study Group.

Your hope that you wouldn’t be roped into their borderline-narcissistic antics was killed when you were given Pierce Hawthorne as your lab partner.

To say he was annoyed would be an understatement.

Oh boy, did he make it known that he abhorred having to be your lab partner.

In fact, most of them seemed to hate the idea of being stuck as your partner, which was at least a little hurtful.

When Abed rearranged the lab partner pairings based on some mental computer wizardry, you got put with Jeff, who was a bit more subtle with his annoyance.

You spent most of that night standing there awkwardly while Shirley cried about being the least popular member of the Study Group, or trying to be some kind of mediator between these friends who you knew only from rumours and observing them.

You also had to rescue a turtle from being burned alive by Britta, which sent you over the edge into a fit of fury.

Annie was the one who apologised to you for everything, and, much to the chagrin of everyone else, invited you to join the study group.

Perhaps she didn’t expect you to take her up on the offer, but you did anyway.

Your first study session with them made them realise that you fit in well with the group.

Even Abed liked your presence, because he believed it ‘changed the status quo without being like when sitcoms add a kid character in a desperate attempt to boost the ratings’.

(He compared you to Frasier from Cheers)

For a while, though, you did feel a little isolated from the group, considering you were often the only one to comment negatively on the group’s questionable behaviour, which they saw as perfectly normal.

However, you adjusted to being in the group alarmingly fast, to the point of getting carried away in the Study Group mentality like the rest of them.

As the baby of the group, you were treated as such, despite being at least a bit more mature than Troy and Abed.

For example, if Jeff and Britta were in the middle of a heated discussion, you’d be told to ‘stay out of it’.

Abed, early on, would analyse you to figure out how exactly you fit into the group, such as deciding what archetype best describes you.

There’s also a chance that he would create and manipulate situations in order to test your personality.

Jeff would shut this down as soon as he figured out what Abed was doing.

In an effort to try and include you more, Annie would force each member of the Study Group to do an activity with you. 

Annie invited you to a one-on-one study session.

(Also, if you’re taking any classes that she took in her first or second year, she’ll lend you her old materials, like notes, textbooks, study cards etc.)

Shirley took you to the mall with her and her kids, treating you like one of her own kids.

Troy and Abed introduced you to Inspector Spacetime, which you quickly became a big fan of.

(Watching it became a Saturday night ritual for the three of you)

Britta brought you along to a protest which ended in the both of you in jail.

(An irritated Jeff would have to come bail you both out, and Britta would beg him not to say anything about it to Shirley or Annie)

Pierce gave you $1000 to tell Annie that he’d taken you to the zoo.

Jeff invited you over to his apartment for beers, which resulted in you both getting wasted and having a tearful heart-to-heart with one another.

Despite adopting the Study Group mentality to a certain degree, you would be the least susceptible to the group’s dumbassery due to joining so late, which meant you’d often be the one to pull the group out of the stupid shit they were doing.

At the very least, you’d pull Jeff out of it, and he’d take the lead and sort out everyone else.

If you weren’t that close to your family, you’d probably spend holidays over at Shirley’s upon her insistence.

(I love love love the idea that she makes a custom Christmas stocking for you the first year you come over)

In a weird way, the Study Group became your family, albeit a dysfunctional one.

After your friends all graduated, you stayed in touch with most of them, even before you were reunited because of the Save Greendale Committee.

It’s safe to say that, even if you do join late, you’re still accepted as one of them, for better or for worse.

[egosdelirium]

Thinking so many thoughts about...... James and Remus both being Spiderman in their own universes and somehow meeting when a portal opens a passage between them.

- Earth 48915

Remus is eighteen. Your local nerd, the loner with his nose always stuck in a book, the weird kid who's never really made any friends in school or at church. The one who never attempts to talk to girls. Dirt poor, has recently moved to London with Hope after Lyall suddenly passed away in a car accident (Remus was driving the car). Him and his mum left Wales and their little village behind to go live with Hope's brother, Ben, to try and give their lives a new meaning and get Remus a better education while they're at it. He gets into this private posh Secondary thanks to his uncle's contacts and his outstanding academic records.

There, he meets Sirius Black: the fittest, richest, smartest, most successful boy of the entire school who exclusively hangs out with future runaway model, Mary Mcdonald, and his little brother, Regulus. In addition to his all-rounded perfection, Sirius also belongs to the family funded Black Industries, a multi-million pharmaceutical corporation that is well known for its advanced discoveries and unorthodox research methods.

Remus avoids Sirius (and everybody else) to the best of his capabilities until he gets paired up with him for the end of the first trimester science project. Sirius loathes science, chemistry, and everything that has anything to do with molecules or atoms. He still gets top marks in it, but his real forte his maths: arithmetic, trigonometry, calculus. Sirius's brain is like a computer wired to solve equations. Remus, on the other hand, is 100% the science nerd Orion Black wishes his son was. In the end, their project turns out to be so good that they get paired together for the rest of the year, and Remus keeps falling more and more head over heels in love with his new lab partner and is very pathetic about it.

They start hanging out outside of school too, after Remus catches Sirius crying in the bathrooms one afternoon during footie practice and Sirius breaks down to him about how horribly abusive his parents are to him and Regulus. One night, Sirius has the great idea to sneak into his father's private lab with Remus (who's now become a regular in Sirius' bedroom) to employ his scientific knowledge to understand some top secret project Orion has been very elusive about, and there Remus gets bitten by a modified specimen of Wolf-spider that Sirius mistakenly frees from its box.

Spiderman shenanigans ensue (but Remus' chronic joint pain gets cured, so he's not complaining all that much)

- Earth 48916

James is a high school senior in a prestigious private school in upstate New York. He lives in Brooklyn with his british/punjabi mother and puerto rican father. He's the 'five different vacation houses in five different states' type of rich boy. Straight A's and B's, captain of the soccer team with a fullride scholarship to Columbia University, every girl's and boy's dream boyfriend.

Everyone's but Lily Evan's, no one other than his main academic rival and the girl he's been desperately in (unrequited) love with since ninth grade. She's top of half their classes (mainly the ones James can't be bothered trying to excel at), future valedictorian, exceptionally hardworking and particularly gifted in 'all things science'. She also allegedly hates his guts.

James mainly hangs out his two childhood best friends: Marlene, star player of the female's soccer and basketball team, and Peter, their very own regional chess prodigy. When James is not with them, he's usually surrounded by the guys from his soccer team or the ladies from the 'Crocheting for Charity' club he attends on weekends. He never really dates anybody else, albeit being asked out almost daily, because his mom taught him that perseverance is the only way to truly show the authenticity of one's desires.

James gets bitten on a saturday night, when he overhears Lily Evans argue with Severus Snape, her ex best friend turned new nazi schizo, as he was heading out after his crochet meet-up. The two are fighting about something in the school's science lab and Severus keeps trying to get Lily to look at a small box he's placed on the table, but they just end up screaming at each other and Lily storms out of the room. In his hurry to chase after her, Severus mistakenly hits the box and drops it to the floor. James, who had hidden just behind the corner, enters the lab to check for himself what the whole argument is about, and the genetically modified Golden Silk Orb-Spider that once was in the box bites him.

Spiderman shenanigans ensue. James is thrilled, Marlene is too, Peter not so much.

And Lily is too curious, and way too good at science and genetics to not get roped up into the whole mess, unfortunately for her.

[girliism]

in which you and tashi go through the trials of ivf.

you and tashi were both career driven women adding a baby in the mix wasn’t something the two of you wanted to do right away, but being married for three years now every time you watched her interact with kids something in you yearned to have one of your own.

pregnancy consumes your mind. it seems like everyone you meet is pregnant or trying and you’re weirdly jealous. “tashi?” she hums at you. “what do think about having a baby?” tashi freezes in the middle of the aisle. now probably wasn’t the best time for this conversation, in the grocery store shopping to restock for the week. “um, i think having a baby would be a lot of work.” tashi stands up straighter and begins pushing the cart again. “yes, but i basically work from home already and we’d have our mothers to help us.” you could see in tashi’s face how hard she was thinking about this. “ok, and how would we get this baby?” you guys were stopped in the pasta aisle. “so glad you asked.” tashi liked when you got excited about things. “there’s of course always adoption but while reading i found this thing called reciprocal ivf. we’d take your egg and put it in my womb so the baby has a biological connection to both of us. tashi i’d be carrying your baby.” you grabbed her hands to hold them in yours getting a little emotional. the look you gave tashi made it easy for her to decide. “ok.” your eyebrows shot up. “ok? ok as in ok we’re going have a baby?” tashi’s nod was all you needed to start bouncing up and down squealing before tashi started to shush you.

you and tashi were at the clinic the following week, having done both your individual check ups it was time to meet with the doctor together. it felt like you had been sitting in that office waiting for the doctor for an eternity. tashi feeling you fidgeting next to her grabs your hand placing a kiss on the back of it then kissing the side of mouth. “i’m nervous.” you mumbled. the doctor walked in causing the two of you to sit up. “good morning ladies how are we today?” good mornings were echoed back to her. “so i’ve taken a look at both of you labs and you’re both very healthy women we should have no problem extracting eggs.” sighs of relief fall from you and tashi as you give each other happy smiles. “you’ve already decided to take the eggs from tashi all you need to do is find a donor our website has a list of all of the registered donor here at the clinic just browse through a give us a call.

later that night you sat on your side of the bed computer in lap as you scrolled through the different men. “oh tash, look what about him?” tashi crawled next to you looking over your shoulder at the computer. “no.” she was quick to deny slipping under the covers next to you. you sigh closing the laptop. “you’ve said that to all the guys i’ve shown.” you turned to face her. “we have to pick someone you know.” tashi just shrugged “i know that but it’s not like we’re ordering a pizza love the man we pick will be fertilizing the egg that will make our baby. it’s already scary enough that he’ll be a complete stranger.” you understood where tashi’s pickiness was coming from you too wanted the best of the best. you ran your fingers through tashi’s hair while she placed kisses on neck inching lower and lower when you gasps sitting upright. “what if we used your friend the cute blonde one.” tashi stopped her kisses. “art? you wanna use my ex boyfriend’s now boyfriend as our sperm donor?” the look tashi gave you was comical. you pushed her onto her back moving your body to straddle hers. “don’t look at me like that i’m serious.” you pouted. “we know art he’s funny, he’s tall, he’s athletic and even if he tries to deny it he’s a great singer come on tashi it never hurts to ask.” you whispered the last part against the skin of her neck sliding your hand up her shirt ghosting over her nipple. “fine i’ll call patrick tomorrow have them over for dinner.” tashi sighs out your mouth meeting hers.

at breakfast you could hear her on the phone with patrick before she hung up. “they’ll be over tonight, don’t forget to ice the good red.” she kissed your forehead then was off to tennis practice. you loved hanging out with art and patrick they were a fun couple despite the weird history between the two of them and your wife you all got along great. “did you guys get a new jacuzzi?” art questioned looking over your backyard that you had recently paid a lot of money to have renovated. you stood next to him “yes! i can’t believe you noticed that.” you and art talked more about the renovation while tashi and patrick fought at the grill over how long the meat should be cooked. “i’m the man here tashi i think know how to cook meat.” tashi gave him the look specially reserved for when men annoyed her. “why is it burning then?” she walked off after that leaving patrick to try and save his burning steak.

the four of you ate outside on the backyard patio. laughter filled the air and it got a little chilly as the sky got darker. patrick refilled his third glass of wine when he realized you hadn’t even had your first. “what’s up with you why aren’t you drinking?” you got quite and tashi cleared her throat. the two of you looked at each other silently asking each other who was gonna address it first. “thats has to do with the reason we asked you guys here on such short notice.” tashi said setting her wine glass down. “we’re trying for a baby and would like to know if art would wanna be our donor.” you blurted out not being able to take the suspension. art let out a sound of surprise before looking over at patrick the two of them now having their own silent conversation. it’s time like these where you wish you could read minds. “you can of course say no.” you added softly playing with the ends of the blanket hanging over your shoulders while tashi’s own hand squeezes your thigh. art downed the rest of his wine signaling for patrick to refill it. “first off congratulations you guys will be great mothers.” you and tashi give him small smiles. “i’m surprised you would even consider me for something thing like this but i’d be honored to be your donor.” you don’t know when tear stated forming in your eyes but they finally fall and tashi is pulling you into her arms pressing kisses on the side of your face. “we’re gonna be uncles!” patrick beats his hands rhythmically one the table and you can’t contain the happy sobs that break through.

after art was cleared with your doctor his sperm count being high and health all he had to do was jizz in a cup, a process patrick was more than happy to help with. you had to wait for yours and tashi’s cycles to sync before the transfer could happen and when it did the days after that felt like everything was moving in slow motion. “we’ll take the test tonight, i’ll bring home two.” tashi said standing next to her car. she was on her way to practice. “ok” you whispered. tashi kissed you wanting to take all your worry away. “everything’s gonna be ok.” she rested her forehead against yours. you nodded giving her one last kiss before letting her drive away.

getting work done that day was nearly impossible all day long you constantly watch the clock waiting till tashi gets back with the pregnancy test. you were standing in front of the mirror hands moving over your flat stomach when you heard the front door open. tashi appeared in the bathroom door way a plastic bag in hand drink in the other. “ready to drink your weight in sunny d?” you couldn’t help but giggle at the reference. you and tashi sat with your backs against the tub staring at the two test on the counter. the loud ringing from your phones timer rips through the room. two minutes was up. “do you wanna flip it or should i?” and for the first time since starting this process you heard the nervousness laced in tashi’s voice. “you can.” you whispered back. tashi took a deep breath before turning over the test. you couldn’t see anything so the gasp tashi let out could be either good or bad. “oh my god.” her voice was breathy. “what tashi? what is it, what does say.” your heartbeat picking up. then tashi turned around showing you the test and right there big and bold was the word PREGNANT. “we’re gonna be mommies!” tashi grabbed your face kissing you but you were still in a daze not believing you were actually pregnant like a baby was growing inside you at that very moment. “we’re gonna be mommies.” you whispered eyes welling up. “we’re having a baby and we’re gonna be mommies.” you said louder jumping up and down smiling as happy tears slipped down yours and tashi’s face. tashi’s laughs mix perfectly with yours as you guys dance around in the bathroom. “you know i love you so much.” you threw your arms around tashi. “i think i already beat you too that.” she kisses your nose.

the two of you decided to wait till you were out of the first trimester to tell people. you told both your parents first then art and patrick. you were mentally prepared for the morning sickness and sore boobs that came with pregnancy but what caught you off guard was how horny you got. “come on tashi please we can be quick.” kissing under her jaw. “we have an appointment love. can’t you wait til after.” you really really couldn’t. “need you now.” your pout and puppy eyes and the whiney please you gave tashi had her on her knees face in between your legs.

“ready to find out the sex?” the doctor looks over to you and tashi. there was an on going bet about wether it was gonna be a boy or girl everyone was convinced it’d be a boy. “it’s a girl.” the doctor announced. you laugh “i knew it.” you stare at the screen the showed the baby inside you moving around.

the rest of your pregnancy was smooth, tashi absolutely doted on you, messaging your feet, bringing you whatever late night craving you got but the closer you got to your due the more she stuck to your side. “i just wanna be there when your water breaks.” but she wasn’t there. she had left you at your parents house to go on a grocery store run when it broke. “uh, mom i think my water just broke.” the look on your mothers face would have made you laugh but the contractions were causing you to wince in pain. the whole ride to the hospital was filled with your mom yelling at your dad to drive faster.

it felt like you were in the hospital room for hours. your voice turning raw from screaming, tashi’s hand slowly losing feeling from how hard you were squeezing it but still she made sure to tell you how good you were doing. after a few really good pushed a loud high pitched cry could be heard throughout the room. you daughter was finally born. you strained your neck trying get a look at her while the nurses cleaned her up. “congratulations she’s beautiful.” a tiny baby girl was placed in your arms. happy tears fell from yours and tashi’s eyes. “she’s so small.” tashi whispered her finger lightly stroking your daughters red cheek. “hi lily.” you greeted her when she opened her eyes for the first time, her big brown eyes catching yours.

(cheesed so much while writing this.)

[sunvmars]

fresh start || s.r. [6]

pairing: steve rogers x afab reader, tony stark x platonic!afab reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 4k

warnings/important tags: none i can think of :)

summary: a new home, a warm reconciliation between you and steve, a not-so-warm-at-first reconciliation between steve and tony

a/n: sorry for the late update! but my elbow is feeling a bit better, so i've been working on other things :)

Steve holds your hand the entire way up to the lab, having missed your touch entirely too much to let go. Even as you sit in your chair to wait for Tony to show up, his hand is in yours as he sits next to you. His touch is all too comforting, though, and it eases your nerves, so you don't mind.

"Thank you for coming with me," you say with a smile.

Steve returns your smile warmly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I wouldn't have let you come alone."

"It's gonna be hard to get rid of you for the next few months, isn't it?" you ask jokingly.

He chuckles, "Harder than you could even know, honey," he answers, a grin on his face. "I missed you, and I have a lot of making up to do, y'know. But I promise to try not to be too overbearing."

A mischievous grin curves your lips upwards. "I guess you're not the worst company I could have," you respond.

Steve's eyebrows furrow at your playful response, but before he can respond, the lab door opens. Tony walks in with a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He raises an eyebrow when he spots Steve's hand in yours as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Well, well, well. This a reunion of some sort?" he quips with a smirk.

You smile at his familiar unserious demeanor. "Of some sort," you reply, shrugging your shoulders, "Hi, Tony."

"Kid, always a pleasure," he smiles at you as he saunters over to his desk next to you. His eyes rake over the blond beside you, and he acknowledges him with only a brief nod and a, "And Steve, you're here too."

You cringe at the tension between the two of them, a tension so thick that not even the sharpest blade could cut through it. Tony's been protective of you since a few months after you were brought onto the team. He treated you like you were a daughter and a teammate, on and off the field, and the protectiveness was almost endearing. However, even if it wasn't your fault, you hadn't wished to ruin the somewhat decent relationship between Steve and Tony.

"Play nice, please. He's trying," you say in an attempt to ease the conflict.

Tony takes a seat in his desk chair, not looking away from his computer as he replies, "Where was the trying two months ago? 'Cause that seemed like quite the opposite of 'trying' to me."

"Tony-"

"No, it's okay. I get it," Steve interjects, "Look, Tony, I messed up and I know it, alright? I can't change what I did, but I thought I was doing what was best for her. Now I know it wasn't, and I'm trying to make up for it. From now on, I'm going to be here for her- for her our baby."

"You're damn right you messed up," Tony retorts with a scoff, his eyes scanning over the chart on his computer.

You sigh deeply and rub your free hand over your face in defeat. "You are impossible," you say dejectedly. "Please, Tony, just try to be civil. For me."

Tony sighs just as you did, and after a moment, his gaze finally shifts from his screen over to you. He spins in his chair to fully face you, his legs crossed. Your bottom lip sticks out in a mock pout as you tilt your head to the side, and you can tell Tony's trying not to crack a smile at you.

"You forgive him?" he questions.

"I'm...," you trail, stealing a quick glance towards Steve. "Yeah, I'm working on it."

Turning his head only slightly, Tony gives Steve a once-over. His narrowed eyes bear into Steve's like he's trying to gauge his sincerity. Tony leans back in his chair after a moment and takes a long sip of his coffee. His expression softens slightly, and he takes a deep breath as he sits his cup down.

"Listen. She's my family, and they," he nods toward your stomach, "are family too. I don't agree with your choices, but I do trust her judgment. Besides, I guess all this means you're family now too. But you better keep your damn word, Rogers."

Steve gives a genuine smile, nodding briefly. "I plan to."

"You hear that? 'You're family.' That's the closest you'll get to his good side," you joke, offering a smile at Steve before turning your attention back to Tony. "Thank you for listening, Tony, it means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony grumbles in a nonchalant tone. "Now that we're done with the therapy session, we've got things to discuss, yeah?"

You glance knowingly at Steve, and Tony catches it. Another exasperated sigh falls from his lips. He runs a hand over his face before setting both of his hands in his lap.

"And what else is there now? I know that look, y/n," Tony says.

"I should probably be the one to explain it, huh?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting yours. He continues when you nod at him, "I think you should know why I left."

Tony's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I don't need to know the details of your relationship."

"It's important," Steve states, his tone serious and stern.

"Alright, then. Hit me with it."

And hit him with it, he does. Steve takes a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal the truth. He begins to recount the events that led up to the last few months. From the Hydra mission up to last night when Bucky set out to find Hawthorne. He explains the possible leads, the potential dangers, and how he plans to fix them.

Tony's expression remains unreadable as Steve speaks, but there's an occasional flash of anger in his eyes. Though, behind all that anger, there lies a deep worry; a concern for you and your baby.

When Steve stops speaking, there's nothing but a dense silence left. All that tension from earlier seeps back into the room. Tony lets out a mix of a scoff and a sigh, cutting through the silence.

"Unbelievable. This sounds like a corny soap opera," Tony mumbles to himself. "I mean, Jesus, Steve. Leaving her to protect her? That actually has to be the most cliché thing I've ever heard. And I don't have to tell you that it was idiotic and completely reckless too, right? If you were so concerned for her safety then leaving her by herself, pregnant and unprotected was the dumbest decision you could have made."

"I didn't know she was-"

"It doesn't matter," Tony interrupts, his voice flat and void of emotion, "either way, she'd have been alone. And you should've told me this immediately, I could've helped."

Steve winces at the harsh tone and the truth about his actions. "I know. It was stupid- I was stupid. It doesn't make sense, and it probably never will, but I was afraid that me being around would make her easier to find. I just wanted to protect her, and that hasn't changed, it's why I'm here for good now," he explains truthfully.

Tony takes a minute to absorb Steve's piece. You watch as his stern expression tones down just a bit as he tosses the information thrown at him in his brain. He finally leans back in his chair again, looking at Steve with frustration and an ounce of understanding in his eyes.

Tony rubs the stubble on his chin, trying to put together the words he wants to say before eventually speaking up, "You truly thought you being around put her in more danger? Do you realize we've been able to keep her protected this whole time? Or have you forgotten that she's been living at the compound, one of the most secure places on Earth?" he questions.

"I knew she would come here, the only other place she would be safe. That's the only reason I let her leave the apartment in the first place," Steve responds as he looks down, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands.

Tony's eyes meet yours. "You really love this old idiot, don't you?"

"I do," you reply, a warm smile gracing your features, "He's my old idiot."

Steve bites back a chuckle and debates quipping back, but decides against it. "I care about her a lot more than I've shown in the last two months, Tony. I love her and our unborn baby more than anything I've ever loved, and I can promise you that," Steve says, desperate to express the honesty in everything he's said.

"She was your fiancée, I hope you'd love her," Tony answers with a chuckle. "I don't doubt your feelings for her, even though I disagree with how you show them, but I won't see her hurt again. She's the closest thing I have to a daughter, Rogers, so don't do anything else stupid."

Steve's body relaxes some at the eased tension. "I know she is, Tony. And I won't do anything stupid, I can't afford to."

You squeeze Steve's hand gently in a reassuring manner. Relief rushes over you as the two men come to a somewhat agreement. And with the air cleared, along with some understanding reached, the conversation transitions into the situation at hand.

"I can help with tracking him down- Hawthorne, I mean," Tony assures both of you, "but until then, I'm putting in more security measurements. I'm finding a new safehouse, installing more intricate security, and making sure we're prepared for anything. That also means no more missions for either of you for the time being, obviously."

The two of you nod in agreement with his plan. Over the next few hours, you, Steve, and Tony continue to work out the details. It's clear that both of them are dedicated to ensuring you and your child's safety, and that's the only thing that keeps you calm.

You agree to stay in the compound until it's all worked out, deeming it the safest place for you. Tony gives you his word that he'll work on finding more leads, and keep good track of Bucky, along with making sure you have everything you need. And by the time the little meeting concludes, you're drained and exhausted. Yet, you also feel a renewed sense of hope in safety for your soon-to-be family.

"Before you go, we need to discuss what you came here for; the baby," Tony says, picking up his tablet. "I can get you in for an appointment with the best obstetrician gynecologist I have. I pulled some strings, and she can see you tomorrow at eleven in the med-bay."

"And you'll be there?" you inquire.

"Of course I will. It's important that you see someone soon given that your condition is... unique. You're still human, just genetically enhanced by your parents' DNA," Tony explains, occasionally glancing up at you from his tablet. "And the baby is definitely enhanced too, so we need to make sure everything is stable. It also wouldn't hurt to have Banner run some tests to see if you've got any of your birth mother's abilities."

"But she-" Steve starts, only to be cut off by Tony.

"I know, I know. Just let me finish. We'll be careful with expanding on her powers if she's got 'em, don't worry," he promises with a brief chuckle.

Steve gives a chuckle of his own. "Thank you, for everything."

"It's no problem. Y/n, I'll send you the details for your appointment- the doctor's information and all. I can also arrange a bigger room for the two of you if that's something you'd like."

You turn to face Steve, reading over his expression. His eyes meet yours, and you can tell he wants to ask you to agree to live with him again. He'd never ask you outright since you'd just begun mending your relationship and he doesn't want to rush you, so he pleads with his eyes.

The corners of your mouth turn upwards into a half-smile at his protectiveness over you and the baby. It's heartwarming, and reassuring of the fact that your baby couldn't have a better father. You turn back to Tony after a few seconds and offer a nod.

"I think that'd be best," you conclude.

Gently, Steve brings your intertwined hands to his lips to press a kiss onto your hand. You can feel him smile against your skin before he places your hands in his lap.

Tony sighs in dramatic relief. "It's great that you say that, actually. I have a bigger suite here that's just been gathering dust," he says with a grin, "I had it cleaned out last night with every intention of giving it to you anyway."

"A suite? You have entirely too much money," you tease, returning his playful grin.

"Another 'thank you,' works just fine, y'know," Tony huffs as he rolls his eyes, scribbling on a post-it note he had sitting on his desk.

His lips form into a smile to show his amusement before reaching out to hand you the paper he wrote on. "Your door and elevator code. Also, you're on the second to top floor. I'll get everything else fixed up in there during your appointment tomorrow. And If you need anything, day or night, you call me, got it?"

The two of you stand as you say, "Got it. Thanks again, Tony."

As you leave the lab, Steve wraps an arm around your waist, and you lean into his side. Both of you step into the elevator and he reaches forward to press the button for your new floor. When the elevator doors close, he pulls you in front of him to wrap his arms around you in a delicate embrace. Your head rests lightly on his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart that you'd never tire of hearing.

"I hope you didn't feel pressured into us living together again, but I'm glad you agreed to it," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Just wanna keep both of you safe."

The elevator softly hums as you're cocooned in Steve's embrace. His warmth envelops you, providing you its usual comforting relaxation. You tilt your head upwards to look at him with a reassuring, soft smile on your face.

"I agreed because it feels right," you say sincerely. "I want us to be a family, we deserve it, and our baby deserves it."

Steve's grip on you tightens. "I'm so lucky to have you," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

You ponder your next words carefully, but blurt them out before you can overthink them, "I love you."

His eyes light up as his hand raises to caress your cheek affectionately. "And I love you, my pretty girl."

The elevator dings as his lips press onto your forehead. You turn around in his arms to enter the code you'd been given, waiting for the doors to open.

The light above the keypad flashes green and the doors creak as they open to reveal a rather empty hallway. It only has one door, and it's obviously newer just like Tony said, but the emptiness is still off-putting. You and Steve share a quick, puzzled glance with each other. His hold on you drops so you can get out of the elevator, but his hand remains on your lower back.

You approach the single door and enter the other code written down. The door slides open with a quiet click to reveal your new, spacious suite. You step inside and Steve follows close behind you. The space is tastefully furnished, though obviously decorated by Tony, with more modern-looking décor.

The suite is larger than your old shared apartment with a ridiculously large kitchen and living room. In the living room are windows that go from the floor to the ceiling, and what you assume are blackout curtains hanging up above them. The light from the cityscape shines brightly through the windows, making the light yellow walls look almost white.

The living room seamlessly flows into the dining area which has a large table with a bouquet of fresh flowers on it. The entire room has an inviting and homely feel, a stark contrast to the high-tech atmosphere of the rest of the compound.

"It's so pretty," you beam.

Steve's eyes scan the new surroundings before his gaze lands back on you. "It is," he replies, smiling at the way you admire the room. "I'm glad you like it, honey."

With Steve's hand in yours, you pull him from the living room to the first bedroom, and then the second. The first room is the master bedroom and it's almost double the size of your room at the apartment. It's got a king-sized bed and a bay window with a little bay window couch that would definitely be used as a reading nook. There's also a walk-in closet along with a sizeable bathroom that has a white marble bathtub and a rainfall shower.

The second room is smaller, but still bigger than the typical room. It's a nursery, or at least it will be soon. The room was empty other than the white cushioned rocking chair in the corner, sitting next to a bookshelf that was filled with baby books. Your heart swells with joy at the gesture, also picking up on how Tony left the room plain for you to decorate however you wanted. Just as you're about to speak, your gaze gravitates towards the chair again. Your eyes narrow slightly as you drop Steve's hand and walk towards it.

You recognize it once you get closer. It was yours. It's the same chair your adoptive mother read to you in every night until you were seven. What truly gave it away was the embroidered bottom cushion that read "E.C. + y/n." You had no idea how Tony had gotten his hands on it, but it meant everything to you. You run your fingers delicately along the old wooden armrest that had seemingly been polished.

Steve leans against the door frame, quietly watching you with observing eyes. "Dove? You okay?"

"It's... Yeah, I'm okay. It's just that, this is my mom's chair, Stevie," you reply with a warm smile, a stray tear streaming down your cheek as you turn to face him.

He steps into the room, making his way over to you, and wipes your tears away with his thumb. "I'm glad you have it here, I know you don't have many of her things," he sympathizes with a soft voice. "And now you get to make your own, brand new memories in it with our baby."

Your body relaxes under his touch, your arms wrapping around him in a hug. His arms enclose you into a tight, yet still delicate, embrace as his hands rub your back slowly. For a minute or two, you stay like that, and Steve doesn't mind at all. When you do pull away, you back up to look over the room once more.

"We'll have to decorate in here," you state, already imagining the different things you could do with the space.

"I'm sure you'll make it beautiful, honey," Steve smiles, his blue eyes twinkling with adoration. "Of course I plan on being involved, but you've always been the better decorator out of the two of us."

You chuckle and your hand rests instinctively on your still-flat stomach. "I'll let you pick out a decorative toy or something," you joke lightly.

He grins at your comment, "Just one toy, huh? I'll have to make sure it's a good one then."

"Doing this by myself would be too much work anyway," you say with a smirk. "I'm just kidding. You can help as much as you'd like, maybe help with some of the other rooms too."

"I'm looking forward to it," he responds, interlocking his fingers with yours. "But for now, let's go get some food in you, yeah?"

You nod, your stomach rumbling quietly at the mention of food, and Steve leads you into the kitchen. He, yet again, insists that you sit and let him cook.

"Steve, I'm not incapa-" you try to protest as you follow him into the kitchen, only to be cut off by his expression.

His eyes narrow in mock sternness, his head nodding in the direction of the plush barstools. "Wasn't a request, sweetheart. Sit, and you can help tomorrow."

Your hands fly up in defeat, showcasing your surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm sitting."

Steve grins in triumph before getting to work in the pre-stocked kitchen. You plop down on the barstool closest to the kitchen entrance to watch him. Attentively, your eyes stay glued onto him, admiring everything about him. He moves with such an ease that suggests he wasn't lying about practicing his skill.

The scent of the food cooking, and the familiar sounds of Steve's movements, almost make you feel like you're meant to be here. Everything feels like it's coming full circle, returning to the life you had before everything that's happened. The only difference now is the baby. And that's not something you'd trade for the world. It's a good change, the kind of change you don't expect and never knew you needed.

After a while, Steve slides your plates onto the dining room table before ushering you to sit down with him. Both of you enjoy the food, and each other's company, talking about your plans for the nursery and the near future. Although he doesn't want to be overbearing, he can't help but want to be a part of everything.

"I don't want to push things, so if you need me to sleep on the couch until you're comfortable, then I will," he says, pushing his empty plate forward so he can rest his forearms on the table.

"Steve," you begin softly, reaching across the table to place your hand on top of his, "As much as I appreciate that, you don't have to sleep on the couch. I'm giving us another shot. I mean, your baby has kind of taken over my uterus, so I feel like we're far beyond sleeping separately now."

Steve chuckles at your choice of words, his demeanor becoming more casual again. "I'm just trying to give you your space," he responds genuinely before asking, "Do you think you'll feel at home here?"

"I got used to being in the tower again, but I don't think it'll ever feel like our home. This place is nice and mellow, though, so that helps some," you answer, a contented sigh falling from your lips. "I don't know, do you think you will? I guess for me, this place will work until I get that white picket fence," you say with a reminiscent smile, recounting the memory of him promising you that future.

For a second, he's silent with an unreadable expression as if he was living in that very moment. Then he meets your gaze with a fond smile of his own. "You still remember that?"

"Of course I do," you reply, chuckling softly. "I remember everything about us."

Steve's thumb brushes over the back of your hand in a slow, affectionate manner. "Good, because I meant every word, and I still do. And about this place, it is nice, but my home is wherever you are. Hell, you are my home, dove."

Your heart murmurs at his words, and a warmth washes over you. It's like all the pain and uncertainty of the last few months are melting away. Deep down, you're still cautious, but even you can't deny the sincerity in his eyes.

With a gentle tone, you say, "I missed you more than you know. I love you, Steve."

He gets up from his chair, coming to stand beside you. As he leans down, his large hand cups your cheek, and his thumb traces lines on your cheekbone.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he murmurs, “Can I?”

"Please do," you reply, your voice soft and meek.

Without hesitation, Steve leans down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck. His lips feel familiar on yours, and it gives you a unique sense of belonging that only he can provide. When he pulls away after a few seconds, his forehead rests on yours.

"I love you with everything I've got," he promises.

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[ipostwhatiwant1202]

As a Dad: Donnie Edition

Authoritative

• he was never a stick in the mud or off the walls, he's more of an in the middle of all his bros when it comes to personality

• out of all his brothers, you'd think he's the most qualified to be a dad, he thinks he is, but he's as much of a disaster as the rest

• he relies heavily on research once the baby is born (biologically by miracle or adoption) but then when the science back fired, he had an epiphany

• 0-8 month stage was the hardest for him because he doesn't do well with screaming and crying but he knows the baby can't help it so he just wings it

• he discovered science isn't what helps him be a parent, it's getting to know the child so he's a pretty hands on dad

• the toys are all home made and cater to brain stimulation and growth

• he definitely takes the child everywhere with him cause that's now his little friend

• sleep schedule is all messed up so he's usually the one to take the night shift

• loves the walking and talking stages cause now he can start introducing the kid to his non-deadly projects

• thus begins the 2-8 stage. poor donnie

• he has way more patience than leo could ever have cause he's a middle child, so he becomes a more gentle parent

• not a yeller and not a physical punishment kind of guy. the naughty corner is definitely a thing

• this is the stage where he reads up on how to deal with tantrums and redirecting, so he becomes the de-escalation king

• it worked until puberity.

• 13-17 were not fun for him and he really felt splinters pain from when he was this age

• the kids are respectful and really nice kids, until they are fighting with each other or being told no

• grounding became a thing and donnie isn't the best at sticking to his punishment (lets face it, he's a softie), however he still reads those books and knows he can't back down

• he often invites his kids to his lab and to help him with his projects, it's his way of spending time with them

• the kids think donnie wont find out things but donnie always knows

• sometimes his head gets stuck in his computer or in a project, but he always makes time for his kids

• he's a binge watcher so he watches tv shows and movie series with the children all the time

• kids are super smart so an A/B average is no problem and he's their personal tutor when they need it

• never forces his interests on the kids but he teaches them things he thinks they need to know

• boy dad coded but if he had a little girl he would also be a great girl dad

• his tinkering sessions with the kids is his time to really figure out what's going on in their heads, thus creating a judgement free zone

• not an overly affectionate dad but he's very supportive of all the kids do

• he definitely says it's parenting

• he's the fun parent by far

• he will make sure your kid excels in whatever sport or activity they decide to take up, but also teaches them not to be little jerks about it

• no problem playing dress up or getting his make up done

• no problem rough housing or wwe wrestling after you said no

• he may be the man of the house, but he usually says that you're the boss so the kids have learned to ask you first over him if they want something

• he is always attending every event the kids have and watches through security tapes or he sneaks in

• he teaches his kids how to dominate the world

• he has the best bedside manner when his kids are sick or upset about something

• he makes science nicknames for your kids and still calls them by them into their adult years

• honesty and respect is the one thing he instills in the kids

• he lets them have ice cream for breakfast on their birthdays

• type of dad to call and ask what you're doing rather than text

[libraford]

I know I’m a rando so apologies if this is over familiar but your work situation sounds a lot like what my friend was going through in grad school. She had been doing really well the first year, then the second year her advisor suddenly started finding all sorts of “fundamental issues” with her research project. He discouraged her from applying for grants and said her submissions were too poor to even consider. All sorts of really harsh criticisms that often contradicted each other and were hard to follow. She felt like she was going crazy. Then she learned he found a different student that he would basically be able to pay much less to do all his lab work for him, and he was clearly trying to force her out to make room for the newer cheaper student. Trust your gut, I don’t think this situation is your fault at all. Something fishy is happening with your company for sure. I’m sorry for all this trouble.

Yikes that's harsh.

Part of the reason that my crits have been so numerous and harsh is that this year I was expected to learn something new. And I understand it in concept, but I have been making mistakes that are typical of new learners. But because there was no SAFE place to make those mistakes, the pressure is on to do them correct the first time and every time.

Like with groups, right?

My first groups job I was doing really well, I thought. Up until we got to the football team, which was 45 minutes late to the location. And they lined them up by number even though we asked for tallest to shortest. And the coach said he wanted to do them by number. So I did them by number. When we got to the end of it, he saw how terrible it was to do them by number and we had to redo it by height. At this point, they're frustrated with me for not doing it right the first time. I am frustrated with them for not listening the first time and also being 45 minutes late. The tennis team was waiting for me on the other side of the school, so I did my best. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. Boss didn't like what I made for the football team and had to go back and do it again because I fucked up. I told her all of this and she said that I should have accommodated them because they're the football team and they have to have the best, even if that means waiting 45 minutes for them to arrive and making the tennis team wait 45 minutes.

My second groups job was a middle school that was asking me to do the team photo AND in between teams do candids for the yearbook. The kids were not behaving well and did not seem interested in taking a good photo, so I did my best even though the kids were fighting. Unfortunately, I made the completely reasonable mistake of leaving my aperature on too low between tasks and they ended up a little bit out of focus- which was not apparent in the camera but WAS apparent on the computer screen. This is a mistake that other people have made. I showed each photo to the coach before letting them go.

My third groups job was a class groups job, which all I had to do was follow the guide given to me. Which I did, up until about the 4th grade classes, which had their special classes going on at that time. Because of this, the number the teacher gave me was incorrect and I had to add students to rows in ways that did not reflect the guide because the other option was to disassemble the class group and reassemble it so that it reflected the guide. Teachers were rushing me to hurry up, so I made executive decisions. This was unfortunately the wrong decision. I also posed them in a way that was consistent with what my boss wanted, but not what the district specialist wanted.

On my fourth groups job, I was told all of the mistakes I had made in the previous jobs and that I need to take consideration all of the details and guides that were there for me to use because my previous jobs required her to go back and do them again, so I had better not make the same mistakes (all of which were different mistakes each time). I am upset. So to make it easier on myself, I asked the coaches if they had a specific way they would like to have them posed. The coaches, delighted that I asked, gave me their feedback on previous years and what they would like to change. And I, delighted that they had preferences, obliged. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. My boss said I did well! She was very pleased with my work. The district specialist was not! He said that I needed to follow the guide because the numbers were incorrect and that I needed to follow the numbers. He tapes a guide to the back of my slate to use. I ask my boss if she could help me next time.

On my fifth groups job, I am disheartened by the amount of criticism I've gotten but I am determined to get it right this time. My boss is present. I am placing the students with the order given to me by the specialist. I walk away to double check. She tells me that its wrong- that I shouldn't have 9 people in front. I tell her that I was using the guide. She shows me her guide. The guides are different from each other. I ask her which guide I'm supposed to use and she says 'whichever one is correct.' I ask her how I'm supposed to know which one is correct and she tells me the theory of how the placement is supposed to go instead of giving me an answer. I get a little shirty. She tells me that this is my 5th job like this, I should know how to do this by now. I start crying. She goes away for the rest of the day to do admin stuff and I handle the rest of the day fine.

My critique says that I am unable to adapt to change and I am inflexible, struggles to take criticism well or think under pressure.

So I'm expected to do well because its my third year. But I have two different supervisors who don't agree on what 'doing well' is and my progress is not seen as progress so much as 'another mistake.' If my mistakes were consistent, then that would be indicative of refusal to take criticism. But because the mistakes are different every time, that's not the case. I WANT to learn. But I would like everyone to be on the same page about what they want from me.

And when I pointed this out, I was told I was being confrontational.

So I am feeling the rage right now.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (7/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 5.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello hello hellooooo, this one is more of a filler one to get everything started. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tag list!

m.list || series m.list || wattpad

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10 years ago

The first time you ever met Kim Namjoon, the leaves were just beginning to change in color. The fall season was approaching. The greens of the summer were slowly fading into vibrant autumn hues. Replacing the obnoxious sticky heat, for humid and cooler winds. The leaves still hadn’t fallen, the foliage was at its peak and you were desperately trying to stay afloat. 

Somehow, you had gotten roped into a math class. Well, you weren’t necessarily roped into it. You were forced into it. It was part of the prerequisite requirements and because you had barely passed all of your Algebra exams in high school, you couldn’t plead the advisory board to accept those credits. They would’ve just laughed in your face and sent you away with a list of professors who specialized in the devil made subject. 

Now, you had hoped that college algebra was a bit easier, after three weeks of a summer intensive course you were proven wrong. You weren’t necessarily failing, but you weren’t passing either. Though, in a panic-induced state full of hope you had done the math - ironic, and came to the conclusion that if you didn’t pass the final exam, you wouldn’t be able to move onto part two of the class. 

If you had done things differently, you would’ve taken the classes at the start of your degree, just as your academic advisor had suggested. You didn’t and now you are two semesters away from a beautiful bachelors degree in arts. Achieving an impressive double major in Writing and Rhetoric and Journalism with a minor in International Communications, along with a tasteful three point nine GPA. 

You were almost there. You could savor it as you looked into master degree programs. The looming debt of your student loans was the least of your worries. At least for now. If you didn’t pass the stupid final exam, in one of the easiest math classes you could ever take in college. You would be growing a larger hole in your loan repayment agreement with the prestigious HYBE U. 

At this point you were desperate. Almost to the point in which you considered cheating. A blaspehmous thought that you only ever had in high school during science labs. Those gizmos computer stimulations were a quizlet file away, and the sweet taste of victory was even closer. 

Yet, quizlet wouldn’t work out in this scenario and finally you caved, putting away your pride for a little bit to admit that you needed help. 

A math tutor was the best option for you. Lots of college kids were desperate for another quick buck along with their less than promising part time jobs, while they struggled with juggling school in the process. You only hoped that the ad you posted on the HYBE U facebook group would workout, even if it had been a week ago and still hadn’t gotten any engagement. 

Maybe it was time to accept the truth, what’s one more extra semester. Sure, it interferes with your descriptive five year plan, but you could somehow modify it. Right?

Wrong? So very wrong. 

You needed a tutor quick. Probably in the next hour or so, because you refused to step foot in another math class again. Your life revolved around your rhetorical readings, feminist discoverings in Ancient Greece. You loved research, writing papers on things you found interesting, and developing a new perspective to already made discoveries. It was a rush. Not necessarily the writing part - it was tedious and sometimes you wondered why you even decided to pursue writing in the first place; but the sense of achievement and the ego boost you got when you typed the final sentence and the final period was euphoric. To then scroll through twenty plus pages of times new roman double spaced text that came from your brain, was a thrill. And one you would never achieve when it came to math. 

Ugh!

“You good there?” You knew that voice. It was all too familiar. You had spent countless hours sitting in a lecture hall with him telling you jokes and writing you notes retelling you the rumors he heard about your math professor.

So, maybe, your total inability to see patterns when it came to numbers wasn’t completely your fault. But the fault of the raven haired, toothy smile of the muscle bunny that you had befriended in both your science lab and college algebra courses.

You lift your head up to see Jungkook with his head cocked to the side. His right eye was a bit swollen due to the sty he had developed from scratching his eye too much with his dirty germy hands. So, he had to opt to wear his glasses, his right eye lens was a bit thicker than the left, making his eyes look a bit disproportionate. If you weren’t aware of how successful he was at getting around with both women and men you would’ve thought otherwise, due to his geeky look and fascination with RPG games. 

You groan, messing your hair with your silver ring cladded fingers. “No offense but math is the worst subject in this entire world. Why do we need it? I’m not going to use it to calculate the circumference of the can of beans I’m going to buy at the grocery store. Nor will I use the pythagorean theorem to measure the circumference of my pizza.” You rant, glancing at the time and closing your laptop. 

Your self study session was unsuccessful because all you did was refresh the facebook page hoping someone would take your twenty dollars an hour offer. 

Yes, you were incredibly desperate, even considering upping the price to appeal to more money hungry college students. 

“The fact that you’re using geometry terminology regarding a simple college algebra class tells me everything I need to know.” He grins, partially leaning his body to the side, resting his weight on the umbrella handle he was carrying. 

Fuck, you forgot it was going to rain today. 

Your day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Anyway, I’m guessing the tutor search isn’t working?”

“Bingo,” you snap your fingers at him before proceeding to gather the rest of your stuff. 

This was the part you dreaded the most. The agonizing walk to your math lecture. Honestly, if it weren’t for Jungkook consistently meeting up with you in the cafe that connected to the hallway in the math building to walk to class together. You would’ve probably never turned up after the first class. Hence why you’re not in a sinking boat. Just a partially sinking boat. 

Jungkook sighs, scratching the back of his head, watching you scoot out of the booth. He wishes he could offer you more help other than moral support and a few ‘You can do it,’  air punches. But between his computer science classes, and increasing doubt regarding his degree plaguing his mind, he’s found himself with zero free time.  

That’s when he remembers something. A small passing comment made on his way to bathroom last night as he was getting ready for bed. Maybe he does have a way to help you. His face lights up, alerting you. 

“What, why do you look like you’ve just seen a cheesecake on sale?” You adjust the strap of your leather bag, against your shoulder and make your way to his side, eyeing his umbrella. 

Would it be weird to ask him to walk you home after class? 

Shaking your head at the thought, a problem for later, you decide.

You shift your gaze to meet his. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you’ve never been so desperate at knowing what goes on in that questionable head of his. He also never takes this long to say something. Once a thought pops into that head of his head, it's out in seconds because he’s afraid he might lose it. 

You can thank his ADHD for that one. 

“I think I might know someone who’s free on Tuesday and Thursday evenings that can probably help you out.” He squints, nodding his head, and you feel your mood turn right side up. 

You knew befriending Jungkook would end up benefiting you one day. Though, you do feel a little bit irritated, couldn’t he have told you this wonderful news, um, I don’t know a week ago as you two sat in this exact same booth, while he watched you make the stupid facebook post. 

You shove him a little, his umbrella buckling under his weight and he stumbles a bit, shock written all over his face. “What was that for?” He complains, taking a hold of his right arm in mock hurt. 

“You’ve seen me suffer and you’re now just telling me that you magically happen to know someone who can tutor me this entire time.” You huff, shoving past him, glancing at your phone screen for the time. Class was in five minutes, unfortunately.

“That’s not necessarily true.” He speaks from behind you, and you throw him a glare making him buckle under the pressure. The dramatics. He’s only been your friend for almost four weeks, but he’s already gotten used to you and he knows he’s hit a vein, and that you’re so stubborn any explanation wouldn’t work. It is always worth a try. 

“Okay maybe that’s true, but they’re pretty busy and I just assumed he would have a full schedule and no time to tutor you.” He explains, keeping up with your steps. The two of you arrive in front of the lecture hall with a minute to spare, you take it upon yourself to open the door, revealing the room full of stressed induced faces, quietly whispering to each other. 

You shake your head at Jungkook’s explanation, making your way to your usual seats. In the middle but on the outside for a quick escape if ever needed. “How do you even know this person? I thought you only had two friends.” You place your bag gently onto your desk and sit down. 

“Actually, including you, I have three friends.” 

“My friends don’t count either.” 

Jungkook rolls your eyes and slumps down next to you, spreading his legs wide, taking up all his leg room and part of yours. God, he was such a guy. 

“Do you want my help or not?” He says in feigned annoyance. 

You unzip your bag, fishing out your pencil and notebook, while he takes out his laptop. You could never understand how he was able to take math notes on a computer, but he was the self proclaimed computer genius. Well, his straight A’s in all of those freakishly hard classes were also proof, so, there must be a method to his madness. 

You sigh, setting your bag down in the empty seat next to you. “Fine, yes, please, my perfect Jungkook. I’m desperate, put me out of my misery.” You plead, hands clenched in front of you as the hushing of the students dies down, and the greeting of your Spanish accent written professor echoes throughout the class. It’s your cue to shut up and hopefully pay attention. 

“First, don’t ever say things like that.” Jungkook begins, leaning in closer to whisper, “it’s weird.” He says in disgust–the audacity. “Second, do you have plans after class?” He finishes leaning away and opening up a new blank document on his laptop. 

You shake your head at his question and click down on your mechanical pencil. You were determined to at least understand one thing in today’s lesson. Jungkook doesn’t answer, your professors voice booming throughout as he begins the lesson of the day, and you’re distracted in seconds by the light tap on your shoulder. 

You look over at your friend, his laptop screen turned in your direction so you can read the tiny invitation written in cosmic sans font. He’s a child. 

Come with me to Serendipity after class and thank me later :p

You look up at him rolling your eyes at the ending emoji. A child indeed. But you nod in agreement, you don’t know what or who is at Serendipity. Except for a solution. At least that is what you hope for because there’s a reason why you haven’t  stepped foot in there since childhood, despite Jungkook raving about it time and time again. The overpriced vanilla lattes is the main reason why. 

Yet, desperate times come along with desperate measures. And if you need to drop a couple more on your favorite caffeinated drink in order to pass math. Then so be it. 

Serendipity stood in between two worlds. It separated the lively college town from the perfect four person familial neighborhood. On weekday afternoons it was mostly frequented by college students who needed a change in scenery or remote workers with their bangs still in rollers and their eyes puffy from sleep. On Friday nights it was home to young adults grabbing dessert after a fulfilling dinner or a late caffeinated drink for a long night out. Tired office workers, likely forced to attend a company dinner, usually took up the long tables in the back wall of the first floor. 

Sunday’s were a favorite at Serendipity, young families would come from different parts of town to enjoy a late brunch. And morning runners would waltz in for a late caffeine kick before the strenuous work out around the lake that offered the cafe it’s  most famous view. 

Dionysus Lake.

Just as its name implies. The lake was a place for celebration, festivities, and madness. It’s where everything would happen for the first time. Your first fall, your first scrape. The graduation ground from a four wheeled bike to a two one. The first time you saw your crush outside of school. The first time you held hands with someone and the downfall of your first friendship with your childhood best friend—Sabrina. I was the breeding ground of impulsive decisions like getting drunk on the steps that led to the bank. With beer and soju you had gotten because you paid a broke college student scrambling in between odd jobs to buy them for you. The breeding ground of many triple dog dares and the place in which you decided what your future would be like. 

It was a right of passage from childhood to teenagehood and finally adulthood. 

It’s where couples that beat the test of time go to enjoy their last moments of humanity. Both the cafe and the lake are full of nostalgia, and so famous that it now became a must see spot from people all over the city. With inflation and the influx of people both the cafe and the lake were places you and your family had started to frequent less, until eventually it was out of your minds completely and the longing for just a fleeting moment to visit before the chaos was gone.

That is until today. 

Everything had changed so much. The rustic decor was now replaced with a mixture of antiques and plants hanging from every possible surface. The windows were now floor to ceiling and they opened up to a very cooling outside patio, where you could enjoy the view of the famous lake. They had even expanded to a second floor, and added a rooftop with fiery lights and wooden tables. It basically looked nothing like what you had grown up with and more like a pinterest board of garden core had thrown up on it. 

It also had more menu options, and gone was your favorite blueberry and mint tea you and your mom would enjoy whenever your anxiety spiked to levels in which you could not control. Everything had been replaced with something more expensive and trendy. A complaint that had been surrounding the cafe for years by everyone who grew up inside the walls. Though you hadn’t really believed it until now because you were finally working up the courage to see it for yourself. And the one thing you can only really think about—apart from the overpriced vanilla latte you had just paid for—was how could a place so familiar feel so unfamiliar at the same time. 

“Hobi always gives me a discount when I come.” Jungkook throws into the wind while he plays with the white buzzer in his hand. 

Unlike you, Jungkook and his family—from what you have gathered—were regulars. As soon as he arrived every worker greeted him with a warm smile and a simple hand wave. Some had added a mention of seeing his mom earlier. And if you hadn’t been convinced, the barista with the high nose bridge, sporting the floral shirt, a bright yellow beanie and khaki pants had already inputted his order before Jungkook could mutter the words “iced americano with a splash of vanilla syrup please.” 

“I’m sorry who?” You move your head closer, eyeing the way his hands wrapped around the buzzer. Desperately hoping for it to ring because although it was almost three and you probably shouldn’t really be drinking any form of caffeine at this time. Your body desperately needs something to keep you alert. Especially now that you were meeting your classmate's brother for the first time. 

A brother who could possibly save you from failing your college algebra class. He had told you a little about him. Apparently, he wasn’t really his brother, but his mother remarried his father when Jungkook was young, so to make matters easier for everyone involved. He would just introduce him as his older brother. He called him Joon and he was currently working on his masters in philosophy. A real pretentious nerd if someone were to ask you. They lived together in an apartment just outside of the college town, and according to Jungkook, who you have noticed likes to input his opinion where it really doesn’t matter. He was still a virgin, because he lived and breathed philosophy like one of those weird philosophers from ancient times. The only thing he needed was a laurel crown and a toga. 

His words not yours. 

Basically he didn’t really do a very good job at painting a good image of his older brother. And you were already having some negative opinions regarding him because you have dealt with a handful of pretentious boys in many of your classes that you really didn’t feel like adding another one to the mix. But again, you’ll push your preconceived notions aside. This was for your four point zero GPA and your five year plan. One more insult to your psyche and intelligence wouldn’t hurt.

Right? 

“The one that rang us up. He gave you one too, vanilla lattes are usually seven and you only paid six.” He points out before jumping at the sound of the buzzer going off. “I’ll get it.” He smiles standing up faster than you can protest, and walking off to the pick up counter. 

It’s strange that the two of you became friends or clicked so well. And you like to think that it was mainly because you shared a few classes more than anything else. He was a little energizer bunny, a right arm sprinkled with a few tattoos and a scar right above his eyebrow where a piercing had been. You were not far from the opposite, but you did have a social battery that would often run out before the end of the day. You valued the quiet and apart from the many earrings decorating your ears and the hot pink peekaboo dye job you had your mom do. You were deathly scared of needles and didn’t look nearly as rebellious as Jungkook did, even with his stupid nerdy glasses. 

“Hobi gave us cookies, on the house.” Jungkook says as he sets down the tray in front of you. “I think he might want your number.” He adds with a nonchalant tone before taking up his previous seat and getting a head start at setting the table.  

You tilt your head in confusion as he pushes a plate with a matcha cookie your way. “You’re talking nonsense. I heard you ask for a chocolate chip cookie before you paid.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your tall glass of coffee. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pushing the brown tray to the side. “I ordered a cookie but I didn’t order two.” He points to your cookie. “Plus he couldn’t take his eyes off you while you ordered.” He finishes and takes a long sip of his drink. He finishes with a refreshed ah and smacks his lips together in satisfaction. 

The drama. 

That’s probably another thing the two of you did have in common. You’re both dramatic in your own ways. Something the two of you discovered about each other two weeks into knowing one another. It was a long story that involved a stubbed toe and a papercut. One that wasn’t worth reminiscing about now because it added nothing to both of your lives. 

“I doubt that Kook, he’s just doing his job and he knows you.” You raise a finger at him and you take a long awaited sip of your coffee. 

Jungkook crosses his arms in front of you. “Okay then why did he ask me if you were single.” He adds in a matter of fact way. Cocking an eyebrow to prove his point. 

You narrow your eyes at him and kick him under the table. He recoils in pain, whispering explicits to not draw any more attention to the two of you. “You’re lying and I know you’re lying because I saw you order another cookie when you went to pick up our drinks.” You say leaning in closer so he can hear your whispering. 

Here’s the thing. Jungkook has been trying to set you up with every guy he deems is cute. You on the other hand are not interested, mostly because you’re still young with your whole life ahead of you. And right now the only thing that matters is your degree. 

What’s the rush?

He pouts, uncomfortably cradling his shin. “Fine, he didn’t give you a cookie on the house, but he did say you were cute. And he’s a nice guy. My brother is friends with him and he’s really funny.” 

You sigh, breaking a piece from your cookie. “I'm happy to hear that but you know that’s not a priority of mine now.” 

Jungkook rests his elbows onto the table and leans forward. “Have you ever heard of a work- life balance?” Because all you do is work and you should be out and partying. Your twenties are supposed to be full of fun.” 

“I do have fun, Jungkook.” You point out, putting the piece of cookie into your mouth before crossing your arms in annoyance. If you had a coin for every time someone in your life tried having this exact same conversation with you, then you’d probably be able to afford more of these over priced lattes. 

Jungkook sits back with his arms crossed, tonguing the inside of his cheek in suspicion. Sure, he’s only known you for a short amount of time, but every time he sees you around campus or meets up with you. You have your head buried in either a book or your fingers are flying across your laptop keyboard. He’s positive you don’t know how to have fun. 

“Fine name one instance in which you are not doing school work.” He challenges 

“My friends and I have board game nights every Wednesday and Sunday night.” 

Jungkook sits up a bit straighter, a look of shook written all over his face. “Wait, you actually have friends.” He says before lifting a hand to cover his mouth in disbelief. 

Before he can stop you, you kick his shin one more time and this time harder than the first time. This is exactly why you are surprised you’ve chosen to be friends with him. Sometimes he could get under your skin by just existing. 

“You know I have friends, Jungkook. You’ve hung out with them.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead he nods his head while he once again cradles his shin in pain. Maybe he crossed the line this time. He met Taehyung and Jimin more than once. And from what he was able to gather in the few times he’s hung out with the three of you. Is that Jimin might have a huge crush on you and Taehyung’s jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you make them out to be. Still, he thinks they’re cool. 

“Sorry I’m late, I missed my bus.” An unfamiliar voice speaks up and it makes the man in front of you sit up so straight you’re positive he’s going to break his back.

You raise a brow in confusion before turning your head to look towards the person who has the energizer bunny fix his posture and shut his mouth. 

The first thing you see is the flowy khaki pants, then his simple t-shirt topped with a blue and white checkered flannel. And finally your eyes land on his face, and the black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His hair hides under a navy beanie and your mouth almost falls open in disbelief. 

Holy fuck, wait a second. This is the man Jungkook was describing. The nerd of a brother who could possibly still be a virgin and has his nose stuck in philosophy textbooks? Out goes your preconceived notions of the man in front of you and now you’re downright confused because this man was hot and reeked of chillaxed energy. He probably owns a few plants, and bike rides on the weekend and visits a few buddhist temples for the experience. 

Nobody says anything as the man—which you perceive is now Joon—slides into the spot next to Jungkook’s. He hasn’t really looked in your direction, except for the short glance he sent your way when he first appeared. 

Jungkook scoffs in annoyance as he scoots over making it a huge show like it’s inconvenient for him to move over. “This is Joon.” 

“Namjoon.” The older one corrects before he extends his hand for you to shake. You hesitate for a second before shaking it and telling him your name. 

He nods, retrieving his hand and sets it down on his lap. There’s a brief silence as he looks in between you and Jungkook probably trying to make sense of the situation himself because if you were being honest you’re still stunned yourself. Though you know Jungkook and his brother aren’t blood related you can’t help but feel like good genes simply run in the family somehow.

Namjoon shrugs once he’s silently done making his assumptions and sets his arms on the table, clasping his hands together. In an instant his face is replaced from a pleasing and welcoming one to one that screams he’s honestly here for business and not to fuck around. 

“Are you the one that Jungkook tells me needs help?” He questions, earning a jab from the younger one. He doesn’t react and instead keeps going. “Have to ask because he’s been trying to set me up on blind dates thanks to our mom, so if this is what this is then I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” He nods before leaning back. Joon, or Namjoon doesn’t let you respond before he stands up and walks towards the order counter. There you see him greet the same barista who you now know is Hobi thanks to Jungkook. 

You don’t linger on his figure before you turn to face Jungkook. Who looks mortified beyond belief and you can’t help but laugh because things are simply just making sense. All of Jungkook’s backhanded praises involving his brother made so much more sense. He did mention he was an asshole but you just assumed that was a simple sibling thing. No, he was most definitely right. And he fit more into the description you had once assumed before even meeting him, minus the typical nerd look you had conjured up with the brief descriptions Jungkook had provided. He was hot, and could probably crack your heart open into two, but he was exactly like those pretentious classmates you’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering all throughout your degree. But for some reason you aren’t as bothered by it, because in a way it was hilarious. 

Jungkook whines, “He can’t even try to be nice for a little bit.” 

You throw your head back laughing even harder, while Jungkook continues to grumble underneath his breath in annoyance. You laugh until your stomach begins to hurt and until someone clears their throat making your giggles die down slowly. 

“Why is Hobi giving out free cookies?” He points out before setting his tray down and taking up the seat next to his brother again. To which Jungkook silently gestures to the cookies and you as if to prove his earlier point. Namjoon rolls his eyes at his brother's actions before turning to face you. 

“He also told me to give you his number but I told him that I didn’t know you and that if he wanted your number he should just ask you himself.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his dark liquid and making the same satisfied noise Jungkook had made earlier. 

Ah, maybe dramatics also run in the family. 

You stir the liquid of your latte with your straw. “Um thanks I guess.” You take a sip of your drink as he nods. 

The atmosphere is so awkward that you want the entire cafe to fall through a hole in the ground. The three of you are silent before Jungkook’s phone lights up and starts buzzing. He quickly grabs it and silences it before standing up. “Sorry, I have to go. I forgot I had this thing to do.” He says inconspicuously before grabbing his book bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You scramble eyes going wide as he adjusts the straps and straightens his black long sleeve. “Wait where are you going? I thought we had plans after this.” 

Jungkook bites his lip, silencing his buzzing phone again when it goes off a second time. “Sorry Bun, I have to really go, it's important. I’ll see you at home Joon.” He salutes before basically running out of the cafe. 

“Typical.” Namjoon catches your attention and rolls his eyes. “I knew he had something planned when he asked me to meet him here last minute. I’m really sorry about him but I’m really not interested in dating right now.” He says before grabbing hold of his bag and going to stand up. 

Your body is filled with panic as you watch him. You do have a few choice words for the person that just ditched you with his brother. But this could be your last resort and you weren’t going to let him walk away. “Wait.” You extend your arm in his direction. He stops slipping on his bag and raises a brow at you in curiosity. 

“I actually do need help. I’m close to failing my college algebra course…well I will fail it if I don’t pass the final exam.” You begin to explain, finally grabbing his full attention as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. “Jungkook mentioned you could probably help out.” You bring down your hand, circling both of them around your watered down latte. “That’s why I’m here. I promise this isn’t a blind date or anything.” 

Namjoon nods, looking at the entrance before sitting down again, sighing, his shoulders relaxing instantly. And you’re once again met with the same nonchalant demeanor he had approached you and Jungkook. Once again things started to make sense, why he had made the switch so quickly. It was something he was probably so used to by now, but now as he adjusts himself in the seat in front of you. You can see that maybe he could not really be that bad. 

“In that case I can stay.” He grins, pushing his iced coffee to the side. “I should warn you I’m not the best when it comes to math but college algebra is easy so I can help you out.”

You let out a big sigh of relief and nod your head. “Thank you so much you don’t understand how much you’re already helping me out by agreeing.” 

Namjoon chuckles lightly before reaching into his side bag and taking out a plain black notebook with a pen. “In that case we should figure out our schedules.” He opens the notebook to a blank page and uncaps the pen. “Does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work for you?” He tilts his head in question. 

You nod rapidly. “That’s perfect for me.” 

He hums and writes down your name with the agreed days and times next to it. He closes it quickly and puts it in his bag. “Great, I'll see you next Tuesday.” 

That’s it? It was that easy? Then why the heck did it take such a long time for someone to respond to your Facebook post. Especially when you had increased the payment. 

Payment. Oh you had forgotten about it, and from

What it seems like so did Namjoon because he was already getting ready to go again. 

“Wait.” 

He stops, eyeing you in confusion but you decide to continue. “How much do you charge?” 

Namjoon opens his mouth and closes it quickly. He puts a pensive hand on his chin before snapping his fingers in front of him. “I think you’re the one Jungkook mentioned about studying writing.” 

“Writing and Rhetoric.” You correct before he can continue going. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. I’m sure he mentioned what I was studying and if I’m being honest I hate revising my own writing. So, instead of paying me in money you can just revise my work in exchange for tutoring lessons.” He offers with a shrug. 

You would be a fool to not take up this magnificent offer, so quickly you agree, extending your hand for him to shake. He takes it and for a second you swear you feel your heart drop down to your belly from just his touch. But you brush it off quickly when he retrieves his hand. It’s probably just the caffeine anyway. 

“Great, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He smiles, and this time it is wide enough in which you can see his cute little dimples. “See you on Tuesday.” 

Before you can respond with the same statement he’s already rushing out of the cafe. Leaving you alone in the booth, with three unfinished iced coffees and cookies. 

You can’t really make out anything, just that this was probably the longest day of your life. And that unbeknownst to you, you can slightly feel the light crack in the corner of your heart. One that you will later on learn was the moment Namjoon had started to infiltrate it.

hope you liked it!