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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years ago

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Do you write yandere? If so, can I request skz yandere headcanons on how they would react when S/O rejects them because she doesn't wanna deal with whole drama that would come with dating an idol?

i mean kinda?? i have a seungmin yandere fic in my drafts sooo BUT YEAH

oh also, requests are not open but im just gonna do this one cause headcanons are kinda fun BUT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED <33

also why is the felix one so short-

Warnings; yandere!skz, rejection, k-dnapping, slight gaslightning or like manipulation, restraints, threats, aggression, mentions of masturbation, stockholm syndrome

Chan

nobody rejects him. nobody.

you two were friends from school and you were sooo happy when chan made it as an idol, finally persuing the dream he had been yapping on about for years.

but in the midst of that he realized that he had feelings for you, he missed you all the time, just wanting to hang out with you and maybe explore the things he had on his mind. so,, he decided to confess when you guys were at a cafe.

“look y/n,,, there’s something I wanna tell you” he started to which you tilted your head

“nooo,,, are you guys going on a tour again,,, i wil miss you sooo much channie” you said with a pout but the boy shook his head.

“i like you y/n”

your mouth stood agape, this was not what you expected and truthfully,,, not what you wanted.

“chan,,, y-you know thats not possible” you said with a frown, looking at him straight ahead.

“of course it is,,, why wouldn’t it be? w-what are you trying to say y/n?!” his voice started growing louder, you looking around in order to see that people werent turning their heads towards your table.

Minho

you have made a big big mistake my friend-

wont even hesitate to keep you hostage in his basement LIKE IM NOT JOKING-

might just tie you up and like,,, not even do anything to you, just talk to you and admire you, maybe tracing your facial features and cuddle closer on the cold floor

just wants to keep you as a pet or smth and you are scared out of your mind cause you cant move cause of the restraints, you cant speak because you have silvertape across your lips that he only removes to feed you but if you start screaming you wont get any so you deicde to just stay calm and quiet before someone saves you and play along.

i mean you do,,, kinda fall for him but you know you cant,, but you cant help but to fall for him and miss him whenever he’s out on schedule things

he always returns to you and you get so happy when you see the little crevice of light from outside when he opened the basement door

whenever he lies next to you, you put your head against his shoulder and take in his scent the best you can

he told you everyday that he would let you go if you agreed to date him but you shook your head,, maybe cause you liked being his prey.

Changbin

he’s more of the threatening type of yandere,,, like,, not that he’s violent but if you try to block his number he will create new ones and keep on sending you messages about how you have betrayed him and how he wished that you loved him back and all that,,,,

you guys often meet because you go to the same college and are students in the same department sooo,,,, avoiding him is pretty impossible

he stares a lot at you,,, you guys have a couple of classes together and he just stares the entire time, his eyes are just filled with revenge, he somehow wants you make you his, own you but he doesnt know how yet, for now he can just look.

watch this fucking message conversation just be this;

[why did you talk to him during class?]

[you could have just asked me]

[nobody loves you like i do. no one y/n]

you are never getting rid of him basically,,

he’s gonna get to you first ;))

Hyunjin

i feel like he goes more to the stalking route than the kidnapping and drugging and whatnot-

ok,,, you rejected him,,, but that doesnt mean you’re getting rid of him.

ohmygod what if he turns into a peeping tom- cause he obviously knows where you live.

like yall were not even that close?? he just saw you backstage at one of the concerts and thought you looked good so he decided to go up to, you werent an idol so no problem he thought.

but he gets a bit too,, hasty with his decisions and often falls for people randomly and so when he politely greeted you and gave you his number you simply shook your head, explaining that this wouldn’t be possible since you worked in the same industry and you needed to stay clear out of any scandals in order to keep your job.

no was not answer in Hyunjins mind.

luckily he managed to catch your full name by flickering through some papers in an office and also saw your full adress there, knowing exactly what he was going to do on his free time.

Jisung

if im being completely honest,,, i have no idea-

like,,, he gives me kinda pervy yandere vibes,,,

what if youre like his ex before he became an idol and now he wants to get back together with you-

oh,,, he masturbates to your pictures-

i feel like he always thinks about you, wondering what you like and wants to write songs about you but he doesnt do much-

but when he finds out that you have been hired by the same company as him to work as a like,,, economics accountant thingy he is all of a sudden vEEERY interested-

always asking the manager of when the group will have meetings with the accounting team,,, although they had nothing to do with them-

he just wanted to be in a conference room with you (and think pervy things about you in your tight office skirt and white blouse)

you went to the toilet on day and you saw him lurking around the same floor,,, WHICH ONCE AGAIN WAS NOT CONNECTED TO THE GROUP AT ALL-

and idk,,, probably sneaks in with you and locks the door before you even react that theres someone else in the toilet-

i feel like he’s pretty mild,,, but when he’s alone with you he is aggressive broooo

probably pins you to the wall and threatens you or smth along those lines,,,,,

(writing this is what my life has become to-)

Felix

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you turn around again, you had just thought of just leaving with a vague answer to his question but he was not having it.

“answer.”

his words sounded cold, his dark voice making an entrace, the exact one you’ve heard on many of the songs you listened to.

“felix,,, you have to understand,,, u-um,, if we date theres gonna be some issues” you said but he just stared at you with cocky eyebrows and a dark gaze, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“do you think i care? would i ask you if i cared?” he said to which you shook your head automatically, what more could you do?

“you get until tomorrow to think and if i don’t get the answer i want well,,, we’ll see what i’ll do to you.”

Seungmin

he plots shit behind your back yk?

he’s more of the sneaky type of yanderes (oop spoiler to a fic heh)

like he makes this like fucking year long plan where the objective of the mission is to make you obssessed with him-

he starts kinda subtely,,, first its going to the same gym as you and like,,, knowing where you placed your stuff

and then he starts putting small notes like under your waterbottle when you went to grab something that say like “i think youre cute, call me” and then his number

you obviously dont react,,, because why the fuck would you contact a stranger at the gym

BUT THEN you realize that its him, its mf kim seungmin. yo,,,, u didnt know he went to this gym,,, that was not,,, the best-

of course you got a bit interested,,, you wanted to know how he was off camera,,, like just in his everyday life and i meeean,,, he was attractive but obviously you should stay away bc,,, he’s a celebrity but seungmin didnt want to stay away

he notes somehow started to get more aggressive,,, suddenly being like “why are you ignoring me?” and such,,,

and one night you were left alone in the gym with him,,, it was sooo quiet, only the sounds of your strained breaths as you lifted a dumbell

here where the plan came to play ;))

Jeongin

he’s obsessed with you and you are not going anywhere, even if you rejected him.

he’s more clingy?? LIKE HE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU

ok sure,, he falls more into the stalking category too,,,

also veeeery much a obssessed kinda yandere,,, like his mind is not thinking about how to like capture you,,, more about how to make you soooo comfortable and fool you into loving him despite the circumstances?

i just imagine that you work in a cafe and jeongin often meets you there when he buys coffee and you are already in awe when you see fucking yang jeongin enter the coffee shop on your shift but you were even more excited when he leaves his phone number on a napkin and slides it over the counter before leaving.

you thought about it,,, contemplating multiple times but,,, you decided it would be best not to since well,,, safety purposes

but he would visit you and every day his face got more and more perplexed cause he wondered why you didnt call

mf would not leave you alone, he would even wait outside the coffee shop until you finished your shift and walk you home,,, so now he knew where you lived-

and then do the same thing over and over again until you talked to him.

does. not. give. up.

#stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids yandere #skz yandere #anon #Cherrymail🍒

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hannahhasnofriends · 4 years ago

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two people one bed | dream

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summary: famous bed sharing trope!

pairing: dream x reader

warnings: swearing, fluff :)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this fic was weird to write bc i normally write that the character calls him clay but with the setting it didn't seem right lmao – also psa, i have very little knowledge about constellations but i thought it was cute so i left it in lol

many members from the dsmp decided to take a road trip together (yes they clowned on dream the whole time)

it was a week long trip and it was finally the last day! you'd went cross country, stopping at a few different airbnbs along the way

and at this point, you were kind of over it😐don't get me wrong, it'd been an amazing trip, but you'd had little to no alone time in a week and you were just relieved to be going home after this

until you saw the last house, where someone had to share a bed.... and you and dream had just happened to pull out the two shortest straws…

‘Damn it.’ You mentally rolled your eyes, of course you’d end up the one to share a bed on the last day. You’d been driving all day and considering it was only one night, you had no mental energy to argue over sharing. Dream didn’t even seem phased at the fact, honestly you almost felt bad about how annoyed you were with everyone with how nice he’d been about it all. But he was always like this, he was always kind to you.

That was until you rolled over for the hundredth time that night. The space between the pillow wall you'd built and the edge of the bed was seeming to get smaller and smaller as the night went on. Even though the air was thick in the room, your feet were cold from Dream hogging the blanket and the bed would shake every few minutes from his constant movement. You could tell he was awake even though he was staying silent, and you tried your hardest not to let out an annoyed huff.

Finally, he shifted to peer over the pillow wall. In the dark you could still make out his green eyes and fluffy hair.

"You awake?" He whispered. You groaned internally, literally why does this man want to have a conversation now?

"No."

"Oh come on now, you can't say that and be asleep. I cant't sleep. We should do something." He shifted again so his forearms were leaning against the wall, basically destroying it.

"We are doing something. It's called trying to sleep so we can wake up at a good hour and go home." You sighed, screwing your eyes shut.

"It's only like 1 in the morning, we have plenty of time to sleep. Come on.. please, it'll be fun." Whatever, fine, maybe he'll actually calm the fuck down after this.

"Fine. What the hell can we even do right now." You opened your eyes up again, staring at the ceiling.

"We can go for a drive?" You can hear the smile in his voice. This man's love for driving was absurd.

"Uh how about no? We've literally been in the car all day and I'd rather not go back until we have to." You finally turned to face him, he wore a lopsided grin and a crooked pajama shirt. Cute.

"Fine, fine. How about we just go for a walk, yeah?" You grumbled, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbing the hoodie you left on the floor. No way in hell were you changing for this, it was bad enough you were even indulging in it.

“Alright,” He grinned in your direction, slipping a pair of shoes on. “We can walk to that clearing with the little pond we saw on our way here, it's not far."

"That's fine but can we please not be out forever? I'm serious about getting sleep." You recalled the place he was talking about, it was pretty over there. Plus, you were pretty sure you could see the stars tonight.

Dream hummed, "Yeah, yeah grumpy. Let's go and be quiet, I don't want to wake anyone."

"Didn't seem to mind waking me up." You rolled your eyes, the audacity.

"Not my fault you got stuck sharing with me." He elbowed your side lightly.

You decided to keep quiet after that, slipping out of the airbnb. It wasn't cold, but there was enough chill to make goosebumps rise on your skin.

The walk there was silent, both of you just taking in the scenery. Your mind was replaying all your favorite moments from the past week, sure you were tired and ready to sleep in your own bed, but you were grateful for the people around you and how happy you'd been the past 6 days. Dream had invited you to come along almost last minute compared to everyone else. He had messaged you one night and told you he was paying for everything and would be happy if you came, and who could say no to that?

"What? What is it?" Dream had his eyes on you as you came to a stop, reaching your destination. "What's with the smile, I thought you were grumpy."

"Shut up. I'm just thinking about the past week. I had a really good time, I'm really glad I came, thank you for inviting me." You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed put.

Dream hummed, "Me too. Honestly I thought you were gonna say no when I asked you." He chuckled as his arm raised to the back of neck, scratching slightly.

"Really? What makes you say that?" Your nose scrunched slightly, you guys had always had a good relationship, you always enjoyed hanging out with him.

"I don't know! I guess I thought you wouldn't want to spend that much time with me." He was smiling, but you could tell he was being serious.

You frowned, "I'd never say no to something like this. I know I'm 'grumpy' or whatever but I seriously like spending time with you, all of you."

"Thanks, I like spending time with you too." He turned to face you, but you tilted your head up, getting a good look at the stars. Your heart softened at his words, he really was a good man.

There was a moment of silence before you spoke up again, "Do you know any constellations?"

"Uh, I can find Leo probably." His head tilted up to match yours and you snorted.

"Of course you can." You smiled and shook your head, typical Leos.

"Oh, there it is, here look." His finger pointed up at the sky, your eyes following where it led.

"There?" You asked, raising your own finger. Dream shifted behind you, close enough to feel his breath on your neck. He hooked his hand on yours and moved your finger up slightly, "Here." He murmured. His skin was soft against yours, you felt his heartbeat on your back and you could smell his aroma.

Neither of you moved, you could feel him turn his head to look at you. Your cheeks heated and you slowly lowered both your hands. You tilted your head to meet his eyes, your noses were barely touching. The beating in your chest grew faster and your mind whirled as you saw him lean in, just so slightly.

You pulled away and turned around quickly, "We should get back." You cleared your throat. Your palms were still sweating, but for a second your thoughts went blank.

"Um, yeah sure." He shoved his hands in his pockets and started his way back to the airbnb. You stood there for a moment before following after him.

What the actual fuck just happened. You were going to kiss him? Or was he going to kiss you? None of that even matters since you'd just rejected him. You cursed yourself as you kept trudging on.

This whole thing was a hot mess, it wasn't like you didn't like him, it was just you'd never thought about it before. Sure, you'd flirt with him in call or make dumb suggestive jokes, but you'd always assure yourself there was nothing underlying there. They were just jokes.

But now you couldn't stop thinking about it, his soft skin against yours, his heartbeat, the way his eyes looked so intensely into your own. Your brain kept repeating it over and over again, it made you sick.

By the time you reached the airbnb again, you began to hate how you yearned to be touched by him again. That, ok fine, you did want him to kiss you but you chickened out. He didn't help by holding the door open for you when sneaking back inside. You mumbled a thanks, not daring to look at him. You could still feel him behind you as you tiptoed back to your room, which you just conveniently forgot you had to share.

You got situated as fast as you could, climbing back into the bed, holding your breath as you went. You waited to feel the dip in the bed signally him coming to lay next to you. When it didn't come, you peeked at his side, he stood there gathering a pillow and his phone before turning to leave. Your heartbeat sped up again.

"Clay," You sat up before you could stop yourself. "Wait, can- can you stay. Please." Your voice wobbled, but the moments back at the clearing kept playing again and you couldn't just sit there anymore.

He turned around shifting his feet, "Yeah, yeah sure." His eyes seemed to soften at the expression on your face.

Your hand swiped at the pillow wall, this time completely dismantling it and you lied back down. You felt the weight shift as he settled next to you, your breath was still shaky. He lied down facing you, eyes searching your face.

"Hi." You whisper, nerves come rushing back now that he's here again.

"Hi." He chuckles and smiles softly. His eyes are still searching your face, he looks uncertain.

"I– Well I–"

"Listen, don't worry about it. I was dumb I don't even know what I was thinking. We can just forget it." He interrupts you, his eyes darting down and cheeks flushing.

"That's not what I was gonna say." You faltered. He stares quizzically, silently asking you to continue. "Well I-I first wanted to apologize, I was a dick back there. And um.."

The words taper off, lost. You feel his gaze bore into your face, he tentatively raised his arm from inside the covers, hooking your chin with a finger.

"It's ok." He whispers affirmatively. The consequences are instant, your nerves slow and you can only focus on how close he is. His eyes find yours, and he no longer seems uncertain. "Can I kiss you?"

You can only nod, so sure of your decision.

And he does.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream team #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken #dreamnotfound #dream x reader #dream fluff #dream smut #dream smp #dsmp fluff #dream imagine #dream x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken fluff

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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pairing: jimin x yoongi || genre: smut - nsfw 18+ word count: 6.7k warnings: dom!jimin, sub!yoongi, exhibitionism, BDSM, sub!jk feature very briefly, masochism, pain play, impact play, spanking, orgasm control/denial, untouched orgasm, frotting (i hope that’s right, i had to google it), crying during sex but in a fun liberating way u feel me, praise, mean-mugging, pet names

summary: jimin is used to keeping his professional bdsm life and his domestic married life separate, but when his husband yoongi comes in after a hard day at work, he wants to blur those lines.

A/N: i wrote this for the lovely and talented @joonsbean so thank her for inspiring me to actually write something, also this is unedited bc i just sat down for 6 hours to write this and i am not willing to stare at it a moment longer

---

After a particularly resonant flick of the whip, Jimin eyes the way Jungkook's calves tense, left foot tapping the floor in an uneven stutter. He's starting to really feel it now.

He absentmindedly reaches his hand out to smooth the reddened flesh of Jungkook's ass, gently cooing at him quiet enough that his rapt audience won't hear. While the eager submissive was the biggest masochist of the regulars, and he was likely miles away from safewording, as a friend Jimin knew the long-haired boy had three hours of lectures the next day. He'd probably relish the sore ass and take it like a champ, but Jimin was soft on him, so he knew it was time to wrap it up.

Tilting his chin towards the dark, almost purplish streak just above Jungkook's thigh, he raises his voice to address the onlookers. "As you can see, when there's only one fall, like with a whip or a switch, the impact feels a lot sharper and concentrated. The thinner it is, that effect is only amplified. For that reason, I really recommend against switches and whips as a first-timer or if you're testing it out." Jimin can't help but beam at the way every person in the crowd listens to his spiel with clear enthusiasm. He got off on this kind of spotlight in a different way to the usual exhibitionism. Sharing his passion never failed to cheer him up. "Even though floggers can look more intense, as we saw when we were starting out, the impact is more distributed, more of a thud than a sting. Now," he breaks off, giving Jungkook's tender ass a final playful swat, making the boy jump, knuckles white as they clench the back of the chair he's bent over, "let's give our little prince a big round of applause for being so helpful for us today."

Jungkook positively keens at the cheers and wolf whistles that erupt from the crowd of at least thirty, his back arching and face buried between his meaty upper arms to hide the blush. Jimin gently massages the heated skin one last time, whispering instructions to head off to the side where his usual dom, Namjoon, was no doubt waiting.

The two had been playing for almost a year now, but Namjoon was still hesitant to venture into the heavier sadism that Jungkook sometimes needed, and the three of them had found a happy medium where Jungkook helped Jimin out with demonstrations, and Jimin indulged Jungkook's occasional desire for more intense pain play. As a thank you, Namjoon even helped Jimin out with his taxes just the month before, and Jimin quite often allowed them to reserve their favourite play rooms out of courtesy. A mutually beneficial arrangement, and it certainly came in handy to have Namjoon deal with aftercare while Jimin still had his demonstration to wind up.

Swinging the chair that Jungkook was previously bent over, Jimin takes a seat facing the audience and quirks a brow. "Alrighty, before we wrap up and I set you back into the wild, any questions?"

This line always had very different responses. Once, on a basic self-bondage informational session, there were so many single kinksters interested that there ended up being almost an hour of questioning, followed by an impromptu tutorial of safe handcuff use. More commonly, Jimin fielded a few confirming questions about what he'd shown, or something related but not overly relevant to the main topic at hand. More often than not, though, he'd find a string of people awkwardly hovering around him after the crowd had dissipated, too nervous to ask their question in front of the others.

This time, however, a single hand is thrust into the air, coming from the rough back third of the gathering.

"Yes?" Jimin calls out, squinting past the few stage lights and into the darkened crowd. He can't quite make out the face, but as soon as the rumbly voice begins to speak, he doesn't need the visual to recognise it.

"I was just wondering," his husband calls out, "could I speak to you in private?"

Jimin is so startled to hear Yoongi that for a moment he freezes on stage, totally silent. Never once had his husband of four years step a single foot into the dungeon Jimin worked at. Not intolerant of the kink world, Yoongi was simply paranoid about being recognised - a renowned human rights lawyer showing up to a BDSM dungeon dressed in leathers was a tabloid field day waiting to happen - and was happy for Jimin to continue working there whenever he wished.

Now, though, that unspoken rule that had kept these two worlds of Jimin's separate had shattered with a single question, and he felt cold shock drip down his spine.

"Uh," he begins eloquently, blinking himself out of it and plastering a collected smile on again, "of course! I'll be right with you once the show ends."

Jimin closes the session in a daze, answering a few questions about physical aftercare and the best materials and brands for impact play equipment on autopilot. It feels like an eternity passing in a single second, and before he's even processed it, the audience have moved on, and his husband is placing a gentle kiss of greeting on his temple, the same way he would when he'd get home from work in the evenings.

Mere minutes after he'd been in his usual dominant persona, Jimin feels himself melting like candy floss in Yoongi's arms, wrapping around him in their usual casual intimacy. "How are you here?" Jimin asks softly, snaking his arms under Yoongi's slate grey suit jacket, feeling the warmth radiate from his body, even through the expensive cotton shirt. "You're still dressed for work, baby."

Yoongi tenses slightly, gazing around the room. A few people are still milling around in small groups, chatting, but this close to the stage, him and Jimin are out of earshot. Still, he speaks lowly, dipping into the Daegu drawl that only makes an appearance when he's too stressed to think clearly. "I took a sick day. Or, I suppose, sick afternoon," he corrects, brows pinched together. "Had to get out. Can we- Is there a place we can have some privacy, please?"

Wide-eyed, Jimin jumps up out of Yoongi's embrace. "Oh, definitely, sorry!" He tamps down his rising concern by hooking his arm around Yoongi's, locking their fingers tightly as he leads his husband out of the auditorium and down a hall.

Being a matinee opening, the dungeon isn't too packed. Jimin prefers working the day shifts, likes that everything feels a little more personal and open. Nights, especially themed ones, get so busy that the gear and rooms have to be booked sometimes weeks in advance. Jimin does his fair share of DMing (they need all the help they can get) but doesn't like to run any scenes himself in the relative chaos.

But at 2pm on a Tuesday, it's easy enough to slip into one of the private rooms, switching the sign to occupied. There's no lock on the door for safety purposes, but nobody will dare enter while it's taken.

Yoongi steps in, eying the room with surprise. It's a relatively open space, with the walls lined with bookcases on one end, and a large wooden desk with some filing cabinets on the other. The desk itself has a comfortable-looking desk chair, and the opposite side has a single leather armchair like something from a therapist's office.

Although there is a wide window, it's covered with blinds, and Jimin knows from experience that it opens directly onto a brick wall for privacy. Instead, the room is lit from above with ceiling lights that are adjustable by a dimmer. Jimin leaves it bright.

Yoongi slowly makes his way to the black leather armchair, sitting down on it and leaning forward to inspect the desk. Absurdly large, it is mostly uncovered except for a diary with some unreadable scrawls on it, an ancient laptop that doesn't turn on, and a ruler. "Is this your office?" Yoongi asks incredulously.

Jimin cackles before he can help himself, moving forward to perch on the edge of the desk in front of Yoongi. "Does it look like I'd get anything done here? It's a play room, baby."

"Play room?" his husband replies dully, but Jimin doesn't miss the way his eyes are zoned in on Jimin's body, the intimidating leather jacket fixed with a tightly buckled belt around his waist, the skintight black jeans that barely contained his thighs, and perfectly glossed black dress shoes, his calling card amongst the typical stomping boots or knife-thin stilettos that most other doms wore. He always got dressed at the dungeon, leaving the house in unassuming sweatpants and a hoodie, so he gets no little satisfaction in relishing his husband's first reaction to the getup.

"That's right," he confirms with a smirk, crossing his legs. "We have five of them at the moment, though the sixth one is almost ready for use. This one is for your typical CEO or professor roleplays, we have a medical one, an interrogation one," Jimin rattles them off on his fingers, watching the way Yoongi's eyes bug out at each addition, "just a basic bedroom one for the vanilla stuff, one that actually looks like a dungeon, and the new one is gonna be an outdoor one."

"Outdoor?" Yoongi asks with a unsteady voice, before shaking his head to clear the thoughts. "Anyway, here is fine, I just- I had to get away from work, Minnie, and I... I was thinking..."

Jimin frowns in sympathy, leaning forward to stroke the back of Yoongi's hand. "I can leave early, I don't have anything else booked today, I was mostly planning on sticking to the social lounge-"

"I don't wanna go home," Yoongi slips in hurriedly, flipping his hand on the arm of the chair to link their fingers together tightly, though his eyes don't leave Jimin's for a second. "I know that you like to keep this job and our own love life separate, and I'm not going to force you, but- I came here because I want to submit to you."

Jimin's eyes widen, his breath catching in his chest. A switch at heart, Jimin had always found it a nice balance to indulge his dominant side here at work, and return home for Yoongi to take care of him, and it had always worked well. Even before they were serious, right in the early days of fucking like rabbits and pretending they weren't entirely smitten, Yoongi had always easily taken that more dominant role, though most of their sex to this day was far less kinky than the kind of demonstrations Jimin ran here. What Yoongi was asking wasn't just to be pampered and taken care of, but to be taken control of. And Jimin couldn't deny the ball of heat that was quickly building inside of him at that thought.

"Baby," he sighs, forcing himself to keep professionalism in mind, "I can't- We can't do anything here without you filling out some paperwork. The list of kinks and limits at the least. Not just as an employee, but as your husband, I gotta keep you safe."

"I know," Yoongi insists, and he frees his hand from Jimin's grip just long enough to plunge a hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a tightly folded piece of paper, handing it to Jimin.

Oddly enough, the folds are worn, not crisp, and as Jimin unfolds it, the text - printed in 12 point Times New Roman, because of course Yoongi would type it up with perfect formatting - has lost the freshly-printed gloss.

"I've been working up the courage to come here for months, Jimin-ah," Yoongi explains in a shy but determined voice. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel pressured at all either way, but please know that this is something that I've researched, and that I'm serious about." His solemn expression turns slightly cheeky, almost impish. "You literally make a living domming people, Minnie. I've been fantasising about it long before I even realised I wanted it."

A thrill of arousal runs through Jimin, straight between his legs, and he tightens his thighs, taking a settling breath. "Oh, baby," he coos, eyes dropping to read Yoongi's well-documented and organised list of kinks and limits, scanning over some surprising - and not-so-surprising - tidbits, "I'm gonna take such good care of you."

The air rushes out of Yoongi's lungs as he unconsciously scoots forward in the chair, leaning in. "Do we- Do we just start now, or do you need to go get some-" he breaks off, blushing violently, "some equipment?"

Jimin breaks into a broad smile, eyes crinkling as he steps forward, steps close, ringed fingers slipping into Yoongi's hair on either side, tipping his husband's face up as his chin rests on Jimin's lower abdomen. "Oh, my big boy wants to play with some toys, huh?" Jimin can feel when Yoongi swallows hard, his eyes not glossy with subspace, instead keen and sharp with pointed desire. "Don't worry, baby, this room isn't as empty as you think."

When he steps away, dropping all contact, Yoongi slumps like a puppet with cut strings, catching himself before he slips off the chair, instead lying back against it, chest heaving beneath the starch white of his dress shirt.

Jimin makes his way first to the bookshelves, looking back over his shoulder to catch Yoongi's reaction as he finds a notch in the framing and pulls, revealing that they aren't real shelves at all, simply disguised cabinets that swing open to reveal the hidden delights inside. The three closest to the desk are filled with clothes of all sizes, office-wear spanning pencil skirts to neckties to blazers, a few frumpy pieces that remind Jimin of dorky professors, even some school uniforms, cut far shorter than regulation.

With a grin, Jimin pulls at a pleated plaid skirt, smirking at Yoongi. "In the mood for dress-up, baby? Show off those pretty legs of yours."

Yoongi, still with some wits about him, narrows his eyes with a mock scowl, his disapproval clear.

Jimin sighs out wistfully, but lets it go. "Another time, maybe." Ignoring Yoongi's light scoff, he nudges the doors shut with his foot one at a time and moves to the last one, where the facade of stacked books hides a series of hooks nailed into the back wall.

Jimin doesn't need to even face Yoongi to know he's squirming in his chair - the squeaking leather gives it away. Strung up are floggers, whips, switches, and neatly coiled bundles of rope, catalogued by length. His husband had expressed interest in both impact play and bondage, several different types of both, and so it's no surprise that the sight of those fantasies had Yoongi breathing heavily. He leaves that cupboard open.

"There are so many things we could play with in here, baby," Jimin assures, patting the folded piece of paper that he'd slipped into his own pocket, "and your list was pretty extensive, so before we get started, any particular preference?"

Yoongi swallows again, hair slightly rucked up from Jimin's hands. Jimin can't wait to see it totally mussed up, see his husband in ruins, see him love it. With wary eyes on Jimin as he moves behind the desk towards the filing cabinets, Yoongi nods. "The- what you were doing with that guy on stage. I- I want that."

Jimin blinks, turning his back to his husband to mask his surprise, fingers hooking the edge of the top drawer of one of the cabinets, each one labelled alphabetically. "Is that so? We did a lot on that stage, baby, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Yoongi is silent for a moment, his breathing the only sound as Jimin carefully slides the drawer open, revealing neatly sectioned rows of anal plugs. He grins. A for Anal, B for Bondage, C for Chastity. The designers really took their job seriously, and he could appreciate the humour in it.

He lets Yoongi take his time, knowing that saying something is often the hardest part. Instead, he notes the location of the drawer marked P, and turns back to his husband.

Looking incredibly small, tucked up on the intentionally oversized armchair, Yoongi clears his throat, making shy eye contact. "The paddles," he says in a high tone, like he's unsure he's even using the correct word, "I want you to- to hit me with them like you did him."

"You want me to spank that pretty little ass of yours?" Jimin confirms, loving the way his husband goes bright pink.

"Y-yeah," he replies breathily, dropping his gaze. "Will you?"

Despite the raging fire inside him, Jimin's heart leaps fondly, so in love with his husband and all his endearing mannerisms. "Of course, baby. But let's start slow, hm? Gotta make your first time special, don't we?"

Yoongi laughs, then, full of air and barely audible, his lips lilting in a small smile that still shows his teeth.

Jimin tilts his head to the side. "What?"

With a tiny head shake, Yoongi contains his grin. "I just really wanna kiss you right now."

Jimin is moving before he's even finished speaking, his hip barely missing the corner of the desk in his haste to join his husband, knees straddling his lap without hesitation, holding those soft cheeks in both hands as he presses his lips firmly against Yoongi's, eyes fluttering shut.

Their parting kiss before Yoongi left for work this morning feels too long ago, and for a moment their new arrangement is forgotten as they fall into their usual motions, years of marriage making every inch of Yoongi's lips feel familiar, the bump of their noses and brush of eyelashes like home even in such a different environment.

With no rush, Jimin lets himself indulge in it, burying one hand in Yoongi's hair, carding through the choppy black locks that are no longer gelled back. His other hand slides down Yoongi's jaw, neck, and chest, tugging at the knot of his tie to loosen it. He makes no effort to be gentle, and his husband just groans into Jimin's mouth at the rough treatment.

It's all too easy to shift into his dom space, a practiced scale of gradually increasing intensity. It begins with the tie, but soon enough Jimin punctuates their ongoing kiss with hard sucks and quick nips of teeth, Yoongi tipping his chin up to drown in it more. Testing the waters, Jimin rocks his hips once against Yoongi's taut crotch and yanks once on a fistful of hair, baring the pale expanse of Yoongi's neck.

The debauched lawyer bucks beneath him, hands flying to grip tightly at Jimin's waist. His long, beautiful fingers and wide palm have always made Jimin feel weak at the knees, and feeling them grasp at him not in command but in desperation feels addictive.

"You like that?" he breathes, voice low enough to almost growl, and Yoongi shivers as he nods his affirmation. "Good," Jimin praises, and dives down, teeth grazing down the sensitive skin of Yoongi's throat, skimming until he feels the throb of his pulse point. Yoongi can't risk marks at work, certainly not in court, but it's a Friday, and Jimin is feeling more possessive than usual. He nips lightly but laps at the skin thoroughly, knowing the best he can get away with is a reddened bite mark which would fade over the weekend. The hickies were best saved for other areas, he knew.

Yoongi is panting like a horse now, air punched through his nostrils as he bites down hard on his own swollen lip. Jimin knows the effect he has on his subs, and grins against the glistening wet skin of Yoongi's neck at the hardness that has grown between his legs. "Wuh-want more, Minnie," he gasps out, "need more."

Jimin hums, making sure Yoongi can feel the vibrations in the hollow of his throat, sliding up to press kisses to that hyper-sensitive place just behind Yoongi's ear that always made him tremble.

It doesn't disappoint, Yoongi letting out a shaky breath as his arms wrap around Jimin's waist, trying to bring him closer.

Jimin doesn't let him, though, pulling back to sit on his haunches, running a thumb down Yoongi's reddened lower lip to watch the way it springs back into place. Yoongi sits still, eyes cloudy as he lets his dom for the night play with him. The thought pleases Jimin; that Yoongi truly was wanting this, truly was willing to give up control to him.

He spares a glance down between his own thighs, where the cool grey of Yoongi's slacks makes no attempt at hiding his bulging erection. Pouting in sympathy, Jimin reaches out with a single finger to trace the outline, watching the muscles in his husband's thighs tense as he fights to stay still. "So hard already, baby," Jimin drawls, "do you think that pretty little cock of yours can wait its turn while I spank you, hm? Can it be patient for me?"

Yoongi flushes, whining Jimin's name under his breath. "Yes," he admits, huffing out a reluctant sigh.

"Yes what?"

Yoongi grimaces at Jimin, but the dom just raises an expectant brow. "Yes, my- my pretty little cock can be patient for you," Yoongi murmurs in the quietest voice he can manage, cheeks red hot.

"That's my boy," Jimin beams, rewarding his husband by popping the button and pulling down the zip on the fly of Yoongi's slacks, releasing some of the pressure. Yoongi groans, deep in his throat, but his relief is quickly thwarted once Jimin stands up off him.

Making his way back to the filing cabinets, Jimin quickly slides open the one labeled P. Splayed out neatly lie five different paddles. Three are plastic, one a basic rounded shape, another that same shape only with several small holes drilled through for a sharper impact, and a final one a rectangular shape. The next one is hard wood, heavy, Jimin recalls, and the one tucked at the back is a softly upholstered pleather one for beginners. Then there's the ruler, of course, though that's a little cheesy for the current mood.

He assesses the five inside at his leisure, knowing every moment of anticipation will feel like an eternity to his husband, and finally makes a choice. He slides the cabinet drawer closed.

Yoongi makes a wounded, cut-off noise in his throat, but Jimin sends him a firm gaze.

"I'll give you what you want, baby," Jimin assures, wetting his lips, "but first I want to feel you myself. Pants and underwear off, jacket off, I want you bent over my desk."

Yoongi sucks in a sudden breath, but stands up on wobbly legs and slips off his blazer. It's probably too expensive to be dumping it on the chair behind him, but Yoongi clearly isn't worried about that as he kicks off his shoes and pants too, only hesitating once his fingers are hooked on the elastic waistband of his underwear.

"Off," Jimin demands harshly, "I won't ask again."

This time Yoongi obeys without delay, and Jimin takes great pleasure in watching the way his husband's cock leaps up once it's freed, pretty and pink and wetter than he'd ever seen it before. Though Yoongi always tended to top, his cock was smaller - more slender, at least - than Jimin's, but he loved it, loved that a hasty three fingers was enough prep on those times that they just couldn't wait to devour each other.

Now, though, with mussed hair and wrinkled shirt, naked from the waist down bar a pair of black ankle socks, Jimin's husband looked positively adorable in the most erotic way, and Jimin wanted nothing more than to make him wait, make him work to cum.

When Yoongi folds himself over the desk, side-on to Jimin to make use of the length of the surface, his hands awkwardly hover on either side of him, keeping himself slightly upright still. The back of his shirt is just long enough to cover the tops of his cheeks, and the sight of his rounded ass and dripping cock peeking through is enough to make Jimin actively restrain himself, taking a moment to breathe and appreciate this opportunity.

He steps forward, planting a hand between Yoongi's shoulder blades and presses, slow enough that Yoongi has time to move his face to the side to avoid banging his chin, but firm enough that there's no resisting. Yoongi goes willingly, however, his back arching as the table is just lower than his hips. Like this, no fabric obstructs Jimin's view, and he hums, pleased. "Good boy."

Yoongi trembles, his legs tight together and knees shaking just slightly. He's nervous at the vulnerable position, but no less aroused for it.

With the tip of his shoe, Jimin guides Yoongi's legs apart, until his socked feet are wider than his hips, until he needs to lean his weight onto the desktop to keep stable.

"That's it," Jimin praises, "my perfect little slut. So obedient."

Yoongi's right knee buckles at the exact moment that he hears the pet name, and Jimin grins. The piece of paper in his pocket had a long list of suggestions for names he was okay being called, and the dom couldn't resist picking out his favourite. The perfect mix of praise and degradation, it flowed so well on his tongue; the smooth, melodic sounds punctuated by the sharp hit of the t. Slut. Jimin muffles a groan, pressing on his own straining erection.

Unable to help himself, he reaches out, both hands grabbing at the plush ass cheeks in front of him, spreading them to watch the way Yoongi clenches at the sudden exposure. This must be what he looks like when they play together, Jimin thinks. He wonders if Yoongi is enjoying the change in pace just as much as he is.

"I'm going to start you off with just my hands, baby," he introduces, running a palm under the hem of his shirt and up Yoongi's spine to watch the way he shivers. "I'm sure you're well aware of the traffic light system, hm? Tell me what the colours mean."

Yoongi shifts, fingers curling uselessly against the tabletop as his eyes remain squeezed shut. "Red means stop, yellow means slow down, green means go," he recites, the exact phrasing off the dungeon's website, and Jimin bends down to press a single soft kiss on the top of Yoongi's ass as a reward, making him twitch violently. "Fuck, Jimin-ah," he sighs, arching his back even more.

Jimin grins. "Good. I'm adding another colour, just for you," he explains. "Gold. Can you guess what gold means?"

Yoongi swallows, shifts his weight, and shakes his head.

Jimin digs his fingers into the flesh of Yoongi's ass, watching them pillow in roughly. "Gold means more. Gold means harder. Okay?"

Yoongi nods quickly, hair even more tangled with every movement.

"Good boy," Jimin croons, and without further comment his left hand rises and comes down in a single strike.

Yoongi seizes up for a second at the shock of it, but there's no power behind the hit, and his brain realises a moment later that no pain follows the loud noise. He huffs in need and pushes his hips back, silently asking for more. "Gold, g-gold," he mutters offbeat, already panting.

Jimin hums in pleasure, and swats his right cheek this time, feeling a sting bloom across his palm. Still not nearly the hardest he can go, it's clearly not enough for Yoongi, as he remains stoic, waiting for more.

The next time, Jimin lets his hand really catch the air on the way down, but he doesn't stop at one hit, raining down three in quick succession on the same spot. Yoongi breathes through the first impact, freezes in surprise at the second one, and an unbidden moan falls out of his mouth at the third.

"Mm, that's better, isn't it?" Jimin muses rhetorically, soothing the slightly pinked patch of skin with his warmed hand. "Just need a bit more pain to let go."

"Please," Yoongi breathes, "jus' keep going."

"Bossy," Jimin teases, "I'm meant to be giving you orders, baby. If you don't quit it, I might not give you what you want at all."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, ple-please hit me again," Yoongi begs mindlessly, and Jimin can't help but indulge him, his husband sounding so pretty when he whines.

When he returns to spanking again, it's in earnest. Instead of pausing to check in each time, he relies on his husband's telling cues to moderate it, as well as the sweet pleas of gold, gold every time Jimin spent too long between swats.

Much like the rest of him, Yoongi's ass blooms candied pink, and with every strike, Jimin can't help but venture further, wanting to colour him in all over. The spanks that fall on Yoongi's upper thighs make him restless, squirming and moaning wordlessly. The ones that land on the fatty portion of his ass have him sighing happily, crooked smile slicked in drool against the wood of the desk.

The two of them slip into an unspoken rhythm for a while, alternating these hits on either side, of varying number and intensity, until Yoongi has almost fallen into a trance of sorts, mouth hanging open slackly as a whine or moan or whimper is falling out of his mouth with every single thwack.

Jimin's arm begins to tire, and just as he pauses to shake out the joints, Yoongi pants a, "wait, wait," making him pause.

It takes a moment for Yoongi to catch his breath, but Jimin waits patiently, scanning his ass and thighs for any sign of something that could be causing undue comfort, but he comes up short. With a weak, slurred voice, Yoongi lets out a sob. "I wanna use the paddle, Minnie, I wanna feel it," he pleads, "I've h-had enough of the spanking."

Jimin furrows his brows in concern, massaging out the sore tissue as Yoongi goes lax beneath him. "If you've had enough, baby, we should stop. I don't wanna push you."

Yoongi actually tears up, biting hard on his lip as he shakes his head. "Please, Minnie, just a few times, I just need it to be- to be heavy. I don't know, but I need it. Gold, please gold."

"Okay," Jimin is agreeing softly, squatting down to press reassuring kisses against the hot flesh, feeling his own palm stinging. He leaves only to slide open the drawer of paddles, selecting the wooden one. He knew from subspace himself that sometimes those base, thoughtless needs stemmed from something deeper, from an emotional need tangled up daily life. Once, in the early days of doing demonstrations at the dungeon, Jimin had gotten stage fright and done such a poor job of a fingering tutorial that the sweet sub he was working on didn't even cum. He'd come home to Yoongi bawling in humiliation, and his husband had lain him down on their bed and made him cum so many times that he couldn't even think, couldn't move a single limb. Now, Jimin had no doubt that the need to feel a heavy impact had something to do with the reason Yoongi had taken an uncharacteristic sick day.

Talking about it wouldn't help, would only break the escapism of the scene, so Jimin just runs the face of the wooden paddle over Yoongi's sore ass, letting him grow accustomed to the feel and texture. "Just two hits," Jimin declares, "one on each cheek. No more. Focus on them, baby. Eyes closed, just feel them."

He waits until Yoongi settles, spreading his legs wider with wiggling toes, and catching his breath, one hand pressed over his teary eyes.

Jimin swings the paddle backwards, not up, and lets it impact on Yoongi's left cheek first, a wet, strangled moan leaving his husband's mouth at the thuddy feel. The wooden paddle didn't hurt like spanking or a lighter paddle. It was about the weighty feel of it hitting your skin, a light hit so as not to cause bruising.

A line of tension disappears between Yoongi's clothed shoulders, the sweaty fabric clinging to his back. He's calmed down, fully, waiting patiently for the second strike. The second Jimin rains that final hit, he drops the paddle onto the carpeted floor, exhausted himself, and moves around to the side of the desk, bending awkwardly over it to press his mouth to Yoongi's, who makes a muffled sound of surprise before responding in turn.

Jimin's hand is curled around the nape of his husband's neck, keeping him close as tears mingle with spit, their kiss salty and desperate.

He feels a vibration between them before he hears anything, has to focus hard to hear Yoongi as he chants over and over like a prayer, thanking Jimin.

He slows the kiss after a sweet eternity, letting their heartbeats return to normal. Jimin's own eyes sting, love and concern a potent combination, but as the adrenaline settles back to normal, Yoongi calms down too, and seems to come back to himself.

He pulls away to let out a tired breath, laughing voicelessly. "Fuck," Yoongi curses with eyes still closed in bliss. "I get it now."

Jimin beams, a chuckle leaving his own lips as he sees the peace on his husband's face. After a moment, though, a frown appears as Yoongi furrows his brows. "What is it?"

"My dick hurts," Yoongi whines, managing to get his elbows under him to lift his chest from the table, head in his hands.

Jimin startles, standing bolt upright as he rushes down to look for any injury. "Oh shit, did I hit it?"

The laugh returns, bubbling out of Yoongi as he turns himself with great effort onto his back, chest still rising and falling dramatically. "No, Jimin-ah, don't worry," he assures, wincing when his ass-cheeks meet the unforgiving surface of the desk. "But if I don't cum soon, I think it's gonna explode."

Jimin's mouth falls open, relief and disbelief flooding his veins equally as he's faced with Yoongi's cock, so flushed with blood it's almost purple in places. "I- Okay, do you- do you want me to get you off, or do you want to keep playing?"

Yoongi looks at him like he's insane. "I mean... Preferably both, Minnie."

After the moment of scare, it takes surprisingly little time before that thrum of arousal is dialed up again, and Jimin smirks, running his hands up and down Yoongi's inner thighs to watch the way he naturally and obediently parts them for him.

"Do you know what I realised, baby?" Jimin coos, stubbornly avoiding the weeping cock in front of him. Yoongi mutters a weak response. "I realised that so far I've been doing all the work so far, haven't I? That isn't really fair, wouldn't you agree?"

Wary, Yoongi pauses and nods, the blur of tears long since replaced by the haze of arousal, of subspace beginning to creep in once more.

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Jimin drawls, flattening a hand heavy on the soft flesh just above Yoongi's cock, making the man moan and wriggle to escape the pressure. "So I think, if you want to get off, you should put a little work in yourself. Make some effort, baby."

Yoongi takes a few heaving breaths, before slowly, so carefully, lowering his hand down to wrap around the base of his cock, immediately groaning at the touch. He's leaked so much precum that it takes a single shaky stroke to coat the sensitive skin, and a relieved smile spreads over his face at the thought that he's finally going to get off.

But where's the fun in that?

"Don't you think you're being a little selfish?" Jimin spits stiffly, and flicks once at the very tip of Yoongi's dick.

His husband practically howls, curling up with a depraved cry. "Wha-at?" he sobs, hand trembling as it hovers on his thigh, fighting his desire. "What do you want, Minnie?"

"How sweet of you to ask," Jimin praises in a sugar-sweet voice, reaching down to unzip his own jeans. "Those hands are big enough to fit the both of us, aren't they?"

Blearily, Yoongi looks down as Jimin slips his aching cock out from his pants, fitting himself between Yoongi's spread legs so that their bobbing lengths bump together.

Even that contact is enough to make Yoongi hiss, but he's desperate and so he nods quickly, fingers trembling as they grab Jimin's cock, pinning them together in his grip. He pauses, panting as he stares up at Jimin for permission.

Jimin smiles placidly, bending forward to press a single chaste kiss to his husband's lips. "I don't want you cumming before I do, okay?" he asks sweetly, though the threat is thinly veiled.

Using the strength of his abdomen to lift his upper half off the desk, Yoongi stabilises himself with an elbow while his other hand jerks the two of them off together, thumb running over the sensitive heads, paying extra attention to Jimin's.

"That's it," Jimin groans, biting hard on his tongue. Truth be told, it was hard enough for him to hold back, feeling threads of an orgasm already knitting together in his stomach. But he's not willing to let go of the pretty sight of Yoongi just yet, so debauched and far gone as he shivers with every stroke, torn between making Jimin cum and preventing his own climax.

After mere minutes, Yoongi has collapsed back onto the desk, ankles curled around Jimin's back to hold him close, hand shaking violently.

"Please," he begs occasionally, but the moment his hand slows down to give himself a break, Jimin pinches his inner thigh in warning. They both knew marks there were allowed.

It's not until Yoongi is quite literally biting down on his own knuckles to hold back an orgasm that Jimin can't keep himself from cumming anymore.

Greedily, he runs his hands over Yoongi's sides, skimming the shirt up to put his chest on display, flicking at the delicate pink nipples. Jimin cums so hard he almost buckles forward onto Yoongi, spurting white all over Yoongi's hand and cock.

He holds himself up shakily, spouting praises to Yoongi as the wave of pleasure rushes through him, making his toes tingle and his fingers curl, scratches down Yoongi's chest and stomach.

"Oh, god, I'm gonna- Mi-Minnie, can I cum, oh fuh-fuck, no!"

One last liberty taken in his time as Yoongi's dom, Jimin pulls himself away, pinning Yoongi's wrists to the table and watching as his cock, dripping white, bobs desperately in the air, seeking friction.

Yoongi babbles pleas and curses, hips jerking, but it only takes Jimin leaning down, blowing a single thin stream of cool air over Yoongi's cock for Yoongi's thighs to tense. He cums, untouched, shuddering and seizing on the table as Jimin takes mercy and wraps his hand around him to stroke him through it.

"Look at you," Jimin croons in wonder, watching cum spill between his fingers, the two of them mixed together indistinguishably. "Baby, you look perfect like this. Please tell me you want to do that again."

Yoongi makes a strangled, guttural noise as he goes limp on the table, legs dangling off the edge. "Fuck, not right away, you demon," he protests grumpily, "now come kiss me again."

With a fond beam, heart so full with love and post-orgasm endorphins that he can barely handle it, Jimin tugs him up by his forearms and joins their mouths together, Yoongi's one dry hand tangling in his hair as he smiles into the kiss.

It takes only a few moments, however, for the sticky reality to sink in, and soon enough Yoongi is parting, letting his forehead rest against Jimin's. "I don't suppose there are any wet wipes in here?" he ventures.

Jimin chuckles, leaning back. "Cleaning materials in the desk drawers," he divulges.

With crazy sex hair and wide eyes, Yoongi makes quite the picture. "Fuck, I love this place. Let's try the interrogation one next time, yeah?"

#bts smut #bts fic #jimin smut #yoongi smut #yoonmin #yoonmin smut #yoonmin fic #jimin fic #yoongi fic #dom jimin #sub yoongi

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poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: He needs to listen. He needs to understand.

Notes: i havent been able to write recently bc ive been spending a lot of time with my boytoy but hes off being a firefighter rn so ive just been nonstop writing and drawing. its ridiculous. i finished pt 3 and 4 in like three days. WC: 5.5k

There were less paintings in Thebes. White marble walls and pillars reigned supreme, a stark contrast from the colorful streets of Memphis. You decided not to bring it up, or at least not at the moment you realized it, as in that moment you were face to face with the mayor of Thebes. He was shaking Ahkmenrah's hand, a polite smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you again, Piye," Ahk said. You had to stop and go over the sentence again to make sure you heard it right. Piye wasn't on the same boat as yours, and wouldn't arrive for another day.

"As it is you, my King," the mayor replied.

A trail of servants, soldiers, and slaves passed both behind and in front of you, lugging the offerings to specific temples, and the royal belongings behind the Pharaoh. Haji was put to the use, as unfortunate as it was, and you couldn't help but apologize when he was asked to haul a massive reed basket full of dried dates.

"It's alright," he said, huffing with effort. "I've done this before. Not usually uphill, though."

"Sorry," you said again, wincing at the way sweat beaded on his forehead.

The massive block of shade casted by the royal house's overhang was a relief for those carrying items, and for Ahk as well, as this was his home-away-from-home. Images of Ahkmenrah remained painted across the walls, the only color in the crystal city. The Nile flowed steadily beside the house, short fences leading to a plentiful garden through which the water came, and date trees that grew taller than any building.

The mayor, who you slowly realized was also named Piye, left your group there with a bid for a good evening. Along with that, he invited the Pharaoh and you––his pet––to dinner with him and his family. You weren't sure how enjoyable that would be, but either way the decision was out of your hands.

Following Ahkmenrah, you found yourselves in a large room with a domed ceiling, tall arches framed by red curtains. Outside, trees rustled in the gentle wind with no hint of society. You silently cheered––it was better, you believed, to have a view of the land, rather than of the city.

"Tomorrow I shall take you on a true tour of the city," Ahk said, coming up behind you till his breath fell sudden on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, but arms around your waist stilled you, pulling you into an unfortunately familiar warmth. "How does that sound?"

You said nothing, staring into the silent night.

"We can go through the markets," he suggested, shifting so he held you tighter. "If you want for anything, I will give it to you. I'm sure you've gone through many markets unable to afford anything, so now's a chance to make up for some of that."

"... thank you," you said, very nearly whispered, as hesitance seized you fiercely. Giving into his words––you said you'd never do that. He was not threatening you in any way, so why would you try to please him?

"Are you tired yet?" He asked.

"Not especially," you said, voice still strained.

"How does a game of Senet sound, then?"

"I've... never heard of it," you said honestly, glancing to the side as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"Really? I think you'll quite like it. It's a game of wits and chance. Are you interested?"

You paused before saying, "sure."

He grinned, leaving you alone in the moonlit room as he raced to the servants bringing in his personal belongings. While you waited, you stared out the massive, pale arches, bright as the moon in the perfectly clear sky. Barely a breeze passed by, leaving the warm, humid climate to cling to your skin, slowing your breath as peace reached you. Thebes was nice––just not the city. The countryside was beautiful, and Ahkmenrah's home here was beautiful.

It was not hard for a room to be better than your previous room, tied up in the middle of inescapable stone walls, still you took special care to appreciate the freedom here. Yes, there was a large drop between the pristine upper floor and the ground, but that hardly mattered to you. By your reckoning, you could milk Ahkmenrah's affection for you. If he truly would not let you go, you might as well make the most of it, and earn whatever you longed for in your poorer life.

Steps echoing in the empty hall grew closer, leading to the creaking hinges of the large, wooden doors behind you. You turned, coming to see the Pharaoh grinning like a dope, entirely uncharacteristic for his royal attire.

"I brought my board from home, but I've got one here as well. Made of crystal and ivory, actually, but I don't like it as much as my wooden one," he said, rambling as he set the board down on the carpeted floor.

The board was presented as a tiny, rectangular table with black and red squares for the pieces to move on. Dark wood legs held up the board, within which was contained a drawer filled with the pieces, numbering two pairs of five. One style was a long pillar with a head on top, and the other was a round-base pyramid.

Over the course of the next couple minutes, Ahkmenrah explained the rules to you, how the pieces moved forward, and that whoever got all their pieces off first won. The basics were gone over, but you soon started without much knowledge on how to play. He taught as you went along, and soon you were truly playing, concentrated deeply on your strategy and how to win. There were a few different tactics you could try to slow down Ahk or speed yourself up, but as you grew engrossed in the game, you hardly noticed the smile spreading across the Pharaoh's face.

"You might actually beat me," he said as you took another one of his pieces, sending it back five paces.

"What, you didn't think I was smart enough at first?" You said with an almost sly grin.

"No, I – actually," he paused, "yes. Sorry. I might've underestimated you."

"Don't worry," you said, handing the dice to him. "You're not the first."

"Really?"

"I ran into this stand at one point. It was a man who took your coin and hid it under one of three cups, switched them all up, and asked you where the coins were. If you got it right, you were paid in double, and if you got it wrong, he took your money."

"Basic deal."

"Yes. I came as a young child, a stranger to the city. He thought I'd be easy prey, so he did his trick, but I noticed he was dropping the coins off the edge of the table and into his lap. So I pick-pocketed him for all the money he took from people."

"That... doesn't sound like he underestimated your smarts so much as underestimating your conniving."

"Perhaps so," you said, moving another one of your pieces to steal one of his, sending it back by three. "But for me, the two go hand in hand."

"I can see," he chuckled, his blush visible even in the moonlight.

After a long time spent finishing the game, as the last move off the board had to be an exact number, you won mostly by chance. Still you cheered, grinning satisfied as Ahk held his head low in failure. He chuckled though, his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter, bringing you great gratification.

"Where did you learn these tactics?"

"Ever been to Nubia?"

"A couple times," he said, looking to the side as he attempted to recall it. "My father was rather cruel to them, so I try not to visit too much. They don't really like the royal family."

"Understandably so," you said with crossed arms, watching him deftly pick up the pieces and cram them back in the drawer. "They memorized your father's military movements, and I assumed you learned your own tactics from him. Applying that to the fact that you're more passive aggressive than actually aggressive, I decided you'd probably be more on defensive, creating strong barriers instead of stealing my pieces."

"... Wow."

"You're also less likely to overcome my pieces because you're trying to gain my favor."

"Okay, I don't need an in depth analysis of my childhood and psyche," he said, holding his hand up but still laughing.

"You asked," you reminded him.

"I did. And I'd like to hear more, when I'm conscious enough to actually understand it," he said as he set away the board. He returned quickly to you, pulling you into a tight hug, before promptly releasing you with a kiss to your neck.

"Tired?"

"Mhm," he hummed, hand trailing down to tangle in yours.

Once affirmed of your presence, he led you along the barren, white floor, your reflections standing beneath you with chests pressed together. The plush of linen sheets and pillows caught you when he pushed you, and soon your body was cradled by the bed and overshadowed by the Pharaoh above you. Crownless, barren of cape or gold, and caught enraptured in your eyes.

As he loomed above you, seemingly caught in his adoration for you, you noted with much confusion that you were breathing normally. Your heart raced horribly in your chest, that still remained a constant sickness. Yet your muscles relaxed, sleepiness seeping into your bones, hypnotized by his loving gaze.

"You're cute," he said with a sudden, wide smile. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you put your hands on his face, pushing him away. He just laughed, falling over onto his back.

"Go to sleep," you told him, lying down on your side.

"Very well. But in the morning," he leaned over your turned shoulder, kissing your cheek, "be ready to be out in public with me."

His arms once more wrapped tight around your middle, tugging you into his heat as he tucked you under his chin. You had several questions, both concerning his statement and other things, but you decided to wait until tomorrow. Tears were budding in your eyes from your incessant yawning, and sleep was a blink away.

You dreamed of a lake that night––laced with lily pads, blue and purple petals sprouting from green buds. Inside each pocket full of pollen, a sun glowed and illuminated your searching fingers. A black stone sky towered above you, dark and cold with wind, creating a deep contrast between it and the warm water.

You awoke to a different stone sky, shaped in the same dome. This one was made of white quartz, carved delicately, and lit by the strength of the sun. Recognition came to you instantaneously, and you recalled the trip to Thebes and the game from the night before. The only difference was the absence of heat, of pressure on your waist, breath on your neck. Sitting up, you realized you were alone in the room. How rare a chance––unsupervised, with massive windows beside you that you could easily climb out of.

Before you could even think of how to act in the presence of such opportunity, the doors slowly opened, revealing Ahk with a tray in his hand. You furrowed your brow. Couldn't he have asked one of his servants to get that? Or in the very least, open the door for him.

"I have never claimed to be a chef. I want you to know that before you eat this," he said, which was a very alarming thing to be told before being presented a meal.

"Ummm..."

"That sounded bad. Let me restart. I am not a very good cook, but I did what I could."

"Why can't the chefs cook?"

"I'm not asking anyone to work during the Opet festival," he said with a frown, before calling out, "Naguib?!"

"Yeah?" He called back, footsteps soon nearing.

"What about him?" You asked.

"Oh, he's not here for work," Ahk said in a bright tone, looking over his shoulder to see Naguib entering the room.

"I'm just here to make sure he doesn't burn down the house," Naguib chuckled, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes, and thank you for that. Come here," Ahk said, motioning the servant either. He dutifully obeyed, and Ahk pulled out a small pouch, handing it to him. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," Naguib said, bowing to the King before ducking out.

"Funny little man, that," Ahk said once he was sure Naguib was out of sight.

"How so?" You asked, mildly amused at their antics.

"He's the only one who can switch readily between free time and work time. Not many people have that switch, you know," he said, turning back to you.

"Do you?"

"I like to think so. What do you think?" He raised himself to tower above you, his expression suddenly falling into a shadowed cold. "Can I put on the face of a King?"

That cocky bastard knew the answer perfectly well. A man so aware of his own emotions, of the way he carried himself, would obviously know about this aspect of himself. Many go their whole lives without ever cracking into who they truly are; but not the Pharaoh. He knew every crevice of himself, and he used it to his advantage. Every weakness hidden. Every strength glorified.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, a cocky smirk on his face as you emerged from your thoughts.

You frowned.

"Oh, don't pout now, pet," he cooed as his finger trailed down the side of your face. "Let's see how breakfast turned out, hmm?"

He soothed and gained your vice attention at once with that little motion, that little motion he'd used a number of times before. Like himself, he had taken it upon himself to know you, to understand why you reacted in certain ways just as much as how you reacted. His expression gave little of that information away, so instead you turned to the tray and scanned its' contents.

You first noticed the wooden bowl of dates, set off in the corner of the platter beside two slats of seared meat. In the middle of it all was the largest plate, upon which he had placed an array of stirfry vegetables, garnished with an anise flower. Two cups were set to the side, filled with a faintly yellow tea. You reached for that first, as you had no idea what it was, and curiosity was always your main concern.

"What is this?" You asked, scanning the drink thoroughly.

"Blue lotus tea. Couldn't find any stores of beer, and I wanted to show you the flower. It's quite helpful in a number of things, medicinally... and recreationally," he said, biting at his bottom lip as he took the other glass.

"So... a drug," you said, raising a single brow.

"You could say that," he said as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Why don't I trust you?"

"Because I'm untrustworthy," he said, winking.

In the end you did end up drinking the tea, and the honey stirred within the warm water had you finishing the entire cup. Along with that, the two of you ate the various dishes Ahk had made with the help of Naguib, finding most of them––in the very least––edible. The meat was definitely burnt, and the stirfry was a little heavy on the anise. Overall, not bad––you probably shouldn’t expect more than that from a Pharaoh who had been handfed all his life.

He dressed himself once all was said and done concerning breakfast, twirling in the mirror to scan every inch of his outfit. There was no effort within it to conceal his identity as Pharaoh––in fact, it was enlarged, prominent and obvious on every golden brace and silk thread imbued within it. A regal, tall crown made of gold and bearing a poised cobra ended it all off, concealing the soft brown curls atop his head.

A few questions remained on the tip of your tongue, waiting for your brain to decide it was the right time to ask. After a little while of holding back, you decided that the 'right' moment would never come, and asked your question forthwith.

"Why are we here again?" You asked, thoughtlessly rubbing the sheets between your thumb and forefinger.

"The Opet festival," he answered, preening his cape. "It's an event that celebrates the strength of the Pharaoh. It'll be my first... since my father gave up the throne. We pray and make offerings to Amun, and the commonfolk are welcomed to ask their own prayers upon Amun's statue. Perhaps you've noticed it?"

Ah. That would explain the 11 foot tall statue made of gold.

"We'll be celebrating wealth for a little while, but in a week we take the barge to Luxor, where we shall enter the temple of Amun, and hopefully converse with the Gods. Amun, specifically."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. So all that food... it's offerings for this God?"

"Some of it, yes. Everyone brings their own offerings, and as I am a man of plenty, I brought plenty of offerings. It is also our duty as the government and protector of the people to replenish my citizens' energy, and so much of that food is actually for those who travel days and weeks to pray at Amun's feet. You, and the worshippers of Amun, will be well-looked after," he said, taking your hands softly in his and coercing you to your feet.

"Is that how it's always been?"

"As long as I remember. It wavers with cruel leaders... but never really vanishes. Our magic is as important as night and day, essential as fruitful trees, and as entwined with our lives as water. It is hard to break the worship engrained in generations."

While he spoke, he began to undress you, pulling at the buttons and knots until the fabric fell from you. Off your shoulders, off your hips, down your arms, until the white linen pooled on the marble floor. Soon you stood naked before him, but he kept his eyes on yours. Never strayed from your given attention.

"I know you don't adhere to our religion. I want you to know I don't mind. I would not force you into anything, especially not something as controversially widespread as religion," he said, cocking his chin upwards with a smile.

He took your hand again and led you out of the room. Chill breeze brushed by your naked stomach, sending shivers down the sensitive skin so readily bared. Once you reached the main entrance room, he let go of your hand, kneeling to dig into one of the massive bags packed before the trip. Most of them had been dumped in the front room, as the servants and soldiers were tired and ready for sleep the night before.

You attempted to look over his shoulder, an endeavor that was fruitless as it was needless. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned to you, presenting it in his open arms.

"Your clothes. From before. I had them washed and packed," he said, handing them to you.

Everything was there. Your long, red vest coat, your skirt with the panel tied into the waist, your buttoned shirt with the collar raised high onto your neck. Things you didn't genuinely expect to see again, and certainly not in the same shape as before.

"Thank you," you murmured, brow furrowed as you flipped through the layers. Without haste you pulled on the skirt, settling into your stolen shirt and the long coat over it. The only thing missing was your weapon––a staff with two spikes hammered into the end. Not the greatest weapon, but it served you well.

"New places can make me nervous, and personally it helps when I have something familiar with me. So I understand why you wanted them back."

"Yes, it's... good to be back in my clothes. Your style is a little much for me," you confessed, remembering the dress with no coverage of your chest except the straps holding the skirt up. A skirt that was see through.

"That's alright. I'm confused by yours as well."

If you were told anything by the various Egyptians you'd met in your travels, it was that Egypt was hot. Always sunny. Always humid. As you looked upwards, wide eyes meeting the grey sky, you nearly jumped. It had been a while since you'd seen a fully overcast sky, where clouds blocked out the sun and the horizons.

"Hmm," Ahk hummed as the two of you left the tiny palace, his hand encasing yours.

"Is it usually like this here?" You asked, looking up to Ahk. To your surprise, you had to squint, the sun still shining bright, white light through the fog.

"No," he said, beginning to walk down the steps, and taking you with. "Actually, it's usually a tad warmer than Memphis. No problem. I'm sure it'll clear out before the ceremony. We've got a week, after all."

He took you into the unfamiliar streets, through graffitied walls until stone turned to marble, great pillars surrounding a massive circle market. Stalls of various types spiraled down into the middle, where a towering obelisk overlooked all trade. Indecipherable hieroglyphs lined each side, though the base of the black stone remained invisible, hidden behind wooden stalls.

Once you entered the center, you noted brick beneath your feet, black stones running into a spiral in the midst of the white bricks. If you followed the path of the black stones, you would find yourself in the center of the market. As tantalizing as that exploration sounded, your hand was firmly set in Ahk's palm, and he had different plans.

You must've passed by a dozen carts before he finally stopped, halting you before a wooden stand showcasing a number of scarves. Each held a sheerness so intricate that you could see straight through it. The seller noticed your amazement, an amazement that had to be common, as he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"These are made out of silk from China. Wonderful seamstresses they have, there. So thin you may draw the whole shawl through a common ring," the seller said, thumbing through a couple before pulling a blood red scarf out from beneath the stack.

He pulled a ring off his finger, and with great care, threaded the whole scarf through it. Before you could even react to the performance, Ahk was pulling a handful of coins out of his purse and setting them on the counter. The seller grinned, thanked him for the purchase, and just like that the interaction was complete. Ahk took your hand once more and led you away, continuing through the outer ring of the market.

"Beautiful color, isn't it?" He said, watching the way it wrinkled and fell in his hand. You made to nod, but paused as his arms drew over your head, placing the scarf over your shoulders.

"This is yours," you tried to say, but he shushed you, tutting sweetly.

"It's yours. And it looks fantastic on you," he said with a smile, pulling your entwined hands to his lips, where he kissed the back of your hand.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying your best not to say anything. That's how this day would go––he would buy you anything you looked at, flaunt his wealth in your face, utterly spoiling you in front of a whole city. Already your face felt as though it were aflame, nervous eyes set fiercely on the ground in front of you.

Along the way, Ahk stopped at a few jewelry carts, where he bought you an array of golden bracelets, faience necklaces, and ivory rings. It wasn't long till there was barely any room left for new gifts, though you suspected that was his plan.

"Here," he said, pausing your stride with a hand on your chest. "One of my friends here in Thebes runs a bakery. He makes the best tiger rolls I've ever had."

Must be good considering how much of them he's had, you thought dully. As usual, you kept your thought to yourself, and followed Ahk inside without complaint.

You were no longer scared of Ahk, you realized, watching him greet his friend with a gusto you rarely ever saw. He was just... irritating. Annoyingly sweet, painfully perceptive, and desperate to earn your favor. The things he dragged you along to do with him were the worst––markets too crowded for your tastes, too rich and uptight for your liking, or boats that you clearly stated you were uncomfortable being on.

The only good part was that outside, he didn't pay as much attention to you. While sitting around in the palace, his hands wandered you constantly, eyes set unmoving upon your body. He memorized those curves, the dips, the intricate veins, and the way you moved in those long hours. Outside, he was preoccupied with other stimulus and left you mostly alone.

Bitterness settled on your tongue. Your old routine was entirely lost, cast to the wind by the Pharaoh's greedy hands. The routine you loved, that kept you sane, and more importantly, kept you moving.

"Do you want anything, Amoke?" Ahk asked, leaning in to speak more intimately. You, of course, shied away, but was mostly stopped by Ahk's hand on your upper arm.

"Um... no. I'm not very hungry," you mumbled, and though he paused to glare suspiciously at you, he relented.

"Alright," he said, kissing your forehead before rushing back to the counter.

With a bag of tiger rolls in hand you left, Ahk continuing to pull you along just as before. This time he did take you down the spiral, and as you passed each stall, you realized it was a conglomeration of different cultures; an amalgamation of the western world. Art from Mali caught your eye. You had gone through there a few times, and the style of their statues had always intrigued you.

The Pharaoh noted your interest, and paused to take you there. He let you decide what you wanted, payed for it in full, and complimented your taste.

"You have a good eye," he had said, "for the divine."

"The divine?" you repeated, looking down at the statue. The form of a plush woman lay in your hands, smooth stone showcasing wide hips, large breasts, and a tiny head.

"A woman, a mortal who creates life, is as close to Gods as we will ever be," he said, looking over your shoulder to scan the figure as well.

The crowd had yet to notice the golden fabric of a Pharaoh, but the singular citizens who did notice were shellshocked, and hadn't the right mind to react at all. Dumbfoundedness gave way the closer you got to the center of the market, and by the time the black pyre casted you entirely in shadow, people were bowing at the King's feet, murmuring astounded praise as he passed by.

You looked up to gauge Ahk's mindset, finding something that terrified you more than it should have; he was smiling. Self-satisfied, pride puffing out his chest, silently declaring their praise to be a necessity.

A man intoxicated by his own fumes is dangerous––you knew that all too well, and fear began to seep back into your image of him, sending mold that tore down your irritation and replaced it with nauseous anxiety. His hand holding yours was now an anchor that sank you into a bottomless sea, instead of the earlier annoyance.

The combination of your own growing panic and the increasingly loud and desperate voices of the crowd sent you into overdrive. Hands reached up from bowed heads to touch the face of Ahkmenrah, to feel his grace and holiness overtake their bodies. Prayers surrounded you, and with the Pharaoh preoccupied, you fell to the ground and crawled out of the mass of the black land's people.

Once free from the writhing confines, you left the market sniffling, headed for somewhere lonelier. You hated to rely on others to heal you, but for a moment you longed for Haji. He had been kind to you. He would understand. Ahkmenrah didn't, and he never would––you swore this to yourself, your back sliding down the graffitied wall of someone's home.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed your knees to your chest, and curled up tight. No one would bother you; you looked like a homeless person, after all.

"Amoke?" Came a soft voice from above you.

You didn't move.

"Let's get home," Ahk murmured, his hands slowly moving up your arms till he gracefully pulled you to your feet.

Your eyes, once hidden and blurred, now opened to the grey light of today.

Ahk had no clothes on.

That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was smiling apologetically at you, nervous tics appearing as he chewed on his lip.

"Why are you naked?" You asked in a pathetically weak voice.

"Well, um... it was a little hard to leave the crowd, so I removed all my identifiers. They'll probably steal my clothes, so, um.. hopefully Naguib packed my other nice outfit," he said, beginning the walk back home. You followed quickly behind, still going over his bare skin.

"You could've left your underwear on, you know," you said.

"Oh." He paused. "The thought hadn't occurred to me."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted as you trudged up the little hill. By the time you reached the doors of the tiny palace, the silence had stretched uncomfortably between you, and you were eager to hide away.

Ahk pulled the door open for you and said, "I'm sorry, by the way," before following after you and shutting the door behind him. The click of metal echoed in the empty, marble house, bouncing off the bare walls.

"For what?" You asked, unable to face him as your voice cracked.

"Bringing you to the market while I'm all dressed up. I knew I would get a lot of attention, but I didn't know how it would affect you," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head into his chest to hug you.

For a moment you were comforted, until you very abruptly realized that he was still naked. At that point you wriggled out of his grasp, though your plan backfired a little, as the moment you drew away your eyes scanned the entirety of him, from his feet to his head, and he ardently noticed your interest. Your panic had absorbed you so entirely that you hardly felt your cheeks burning with a bright red blush.

"I'll... go put some clothes on," he said with a smile, shaking his head.

He left you alone in the big, empty drawing room, occupied by a vacant kitchen on the far side of the house, and three bags of luggage laid haphazardly in the middle. Your steps that took you deeper into the walls echoed around you, causing you to move slow and careful.

Eventually you explored the whole of the room, finding a small door to the right of the entrance, one that led into a long pathway. The chill wind snuck through the thick hedges as you padded down the stone walkway, lines of sand between the rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet. Through the thin walls, you glimpsed a sliver of a garden, the sight of a white fountain bringing the sound of rushing water to you.

The fountain, alabaster centerpiece of the small garden, flowed with crystal clear water that pooled on the ground in such depth that lilies had sprouted from the bottom. Green pads floated on the cool water, and the blue lotus flowers were all closed up in the sun's absence. The trail that had led you there continued within it, circling the fountain, and ultimately leading to a small, sandstone gazebo.

You sat on the gazebo's step, elbow on your knee as you leaned your cheek on the palm of your hand. Here the wind was not as harsh, only occasionally brushing against your hair, though the cold had yet to cease. It was a good explanation for the silent garden, barren of animal life. No, this was a haven of silence, of loneliness, and of plants. Beautiful, quiet plants.

As many things as there were on your mind, there was nothing truly in your head. Abstract ideas and emotions relating to your position, to your relationship with Ahkmenrah, to the tired nerves burnt out from your earlier panic.

"It's a bit cold," Ahk murmured in his low voice, placing a blanket over your hunched shoulders.

You whirled around to see Ahkmenrah standing above you, fully clothed. With a slight huff he sat down beside you, settling onto the hard step, his thigh pressed to yours.

"I hate my life," you mumbled, falling and landing on Ahk. You could feel the way he tensed, how his breath caught in his throat at the given contact.

"I –"

"And it's all your fault," you said, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"... I know."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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notveryglittery · 5 years ago

Text

mice on venus (1.1)

summary: gee, those forest ravines really pop out at you, huh? wc: 2k / ships: romantic royality, qpr prinxiety, romantic analogical. warnings: falling off a cliff, injuries, janus is a lil rough around the edges but sometimes u gotta be when living in a dangerous blocky world... author’s note: i couldn’t sleep last night... bc brain was making this... and also @thoriffix makes nice minecraft art... so yeah, minecraft sanders sides au? i have no clue what i’m doing besides having fun :) not too much knowledge of the game is needed; you can look at it as a basic adventure au. enjoy!

mice on venus (1.1) (you are here) | far (1.2) title inspo: (spotify link) (youtube link) idk if this will go on ao3 but here’s a spot for editing

— — —

Patton’s voice tears from his throat in a raw and terrified shout. "Roman!" He screams, hands outstretched uselessly, as Roman tips backwards over the edge of a ravine, and disappears.

Logan is there, barely a second later. He rifles through his bag, finds what he needs, and throws it with all the force he can muster. Gravity won't let it hit the ground before Roman does, but it will help when it arrives nonetheless. He hurries to stand, turn, and face —

"What happened?!" Virgil asks breathlessly, daggers drawn and at the ready.

"Roman fell into a ravine," Logan answers with so little tact that Patton would scold him for it if he were paying enough attention to overhear. The color in Virgil's face drains. "I threw a Splash Potion of Healing after him," Logan reassures without pausing, "but we need to get down there."

"I knew I should've stayed home," drawls their final party member, sounding awfully bored despite the situation.

Patron does hear this and he rounds on Janus with fire in his eyes. "How could you be so cruel?! Roman might be dead!"

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Were you not listening just now? Our local brewer lobbed a potion. Roman's seen worse. He'll be fine."

Patton's lower lip trembles but it's hard to tell whether he wants to cry or to berate. Maybe both. He looks for Virgil, only to find him at the ravine's edge with a bucket. Water is flowing from where it's been poured, creating a safe passage for them to traverse down in once safe.

Roman, meanwhile, is falling.

His only warning had been the horror dawning on Patton's face and even then, it came after his foot met air instead of solid ground like he expected. For some inane reason, his first thought as he went plummeting was "who put this ravine in the middle of a forest?" Next, it was panic and "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"

With the wind stinging his face and his blood roaring in his ears, Roman knows he has mere seconds to figure out how to make this suck less. He struggles to right himself until he's facing the ground that is rushing up to meet him. He pulls his shield from where it is strapped to his back and thanks Jeb that he'd had the foresight, as their fighter, to give himself something sturdier. The rickety thing the others use wouldn't have done much for him here but the curved, solid iron plate he tucks himself into should absorb most of the impact.

That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell. He can barely cry out with how his breath is knocked out of him. Pain shoots up his ankles and legs, lighting every nerve along the way. He tilts over, gritting his teeth and trying to see beyond the stars that swim through his vision. He isn't safe… There could… Mobs…

Glass shatters next to him and he flinches from it. Please not a witch, please not a witch, please not a witch —

As opposed to the nauseous kick of poison or the heavy weight of slowness, however, warmth of healing washes over him. In his shock, he'd forgotten anyone had been with him but of course, Logan would have been right behind Patton, with his emergency potions. Relief floods over everything else. He isn't alone. He has help.

"— an idiot!" is the first thing Roman hears when he comes to. He opens his eyes to see Virgil pacing beside him, flailing his arms, and apparently mid-rant. It's probably Logan at his feet, wrapping his ankle in a splint. Ah… the pain from it being jostled must've woken him… He's glad he doesn't remember it.

"Honey," Patton's voice whimpers, close to him, choked and scared and none of that will do —

"C'mere," Roman croaks, reaching for his beloved. Patton catches Roman's hand and holds it almost too tightly. Roman isn't sure which one of them is shaking. He brings Patton's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "I'm okay, sweetness. Don't cry. Please. You know a smile will help me recover better than anything."

"That's not true," Logan pipes up, deadpan.

Patton gives him a tremulous smile anyway.

"Learn to watch—" Virgil stops. Freezes. Looks up. "Oh. Great." He's rifling through his supplies before the others even have time to ask him what's wrong.

The sudden realization of dimming light answers them well enough, though. Janus wastes no time in beginning to help Virgil, moving with him to the ravine's wall to back their makeshift base against. Sunset brings with it monsters and they certainly aren’t in the best place to handle that.

"You need to sleep before you get back on your feet," Logan tells Roman as he packs away his med kit. "No adventures for at least three days."

Roman gasps, as if Logan has just told him his birthday is canceled.

"Logan's right, dear," Patton intervenes, pulling one of Roman's arms over and around his shoulder. He helps him stand slowly, making sure Roman favors weight on his less injured ankle. "It's okay, I'm gonna stay with you! It'll go by so quick, you won't even know it happened."

Roman wants to complain further but he’s lightheaded from his now-vertical position. With practiced ease, Virgil and Janus have a lean-to set up to keep them safe from the nights terrors. Unfortunately, there’s only enough materials for two beds. Fortunately, they sleep in shifts anyway. It takes some coaxing to convince Roman that he doesn’t need to stay awake for one but once his head is on the pillow and Patton is combing a hand through his hair, he’s out.

Logan sits up for the first two hours. Forty minutes in, Janus leaves to explore the ravine. The others know better than to even try stopping him. He returns, laden with coal and iron ore.

“Roman’s shield is gonna need repairing,” Janus says matter-of-factly as he takes over for the next watch.

Logan groans. “I suppose, at least, the painting will keep him busy while he’s grounded.”

“He’ll last…” Janus pauses, considering. “I give him no more than a day and a half.”

“If he wants to sustain his injuries, sure.”

“Bet you he’ll try stealing an Instant Health potion.”

“Not if he knows what’s best for him,” Logan snaps.

Janus smiles with too many teeth which isn’t to say he has too many teeth, just that normally his smiles are close-lipped. Logan scowls before ducking into their small shelter to try and get some rest.

The next two hours pass without trouble. Virgil takes his turn. The howling screech of an enderman startles Logan awake but just as quick, Virgil is peeking in on the party and waving the concern away with an ender pearl clutched in his fist.

“Didn’t wanna pass up the opportunity,” he whispers, before returning to his post.

Patton sets up for the last watch. Virgil makes Logan take the free bed, which doesn’t take much convincing seeing as he’s half-asleep already. Roman begins to toss and turn so Virgil sits on the ground beside him, reaches up, and holds his hand.

“Sap,” Janus says from the corner where he’s been making torches.

“Have you slept at all?” Virgil asks instead of taking the bait.

When Janus doesn’t answer, Virgil frowns. “How long has it been?”

Another round of silence.

“J, what the fuck? We don’t need phantoms on top of everything else!” Virgil raises his voice without meaning to. Logan stirs at the sound of it; he’s always been a light sleeper.

“Hush,” Janus hisses. They wait a few moments more until Logan has settled. “I will when we get back home. I’ve got at least one more safe night.”

Virgil’s glare sharpens but he doesn’t push any further. Janus goes back to his crafting but Virgil notices now how slowly he works. Instead of staring and letting his concern build, Virgil leans back and shuts his eyes, focusing on Roman’s warm hand in his.

Sunrise means a quick breakfast of bread and crisp apples. They share amongst themselves before Logan and Patton take down the lean-to. Janus returns to the top of the ravine, making sure to dispatch any mobs lurking in the shade of the trees. Virgil remembers the leads Patton had brought with him, for if they had come across any horses, and suggests tying Roman to one of them, just in case things go wrong on the swim up the waterfall.

Roman, ever full of bravado, insists he would be just fine on his own. Looks of concern and frustration come from his boyfriend and queerplatonic partner, respectively, and he quickly gives in without much fuss. Janus joins them again and offers to build a ladder back up, especially since there’s no short supply of wood; Logan disagrees, worried that it would take too long and they’d be caught out once more at nighttime.

Eventually, they do all get up and out of the ravine. Roman’s splint needs redoing now that it’s wet and heavy but afterwards, they are on their way home. He relies heavily on Patton and Virgil to help him, careful to not put too much weight on his injured foot; he hates needing so much help, but he supposes it’s mostly alright, what with Patton keeping him entertained with stories and Virgil teasing him about dumb little mistakes made in the past.

Slow going as as they are, they make it just as the sun is beginning to set. The lanterns are lit at the village they had set up nearby roughly a year ago and their neighbors are gathered at the bell for gossip and trade. Patton wants to swing by to say hello and offer some cake but Roman is really struggling beside him now.

“Oh, sweetpea, you must be so tired,” Patton murmurs, shifting so that he can take more pressure off of Roman. “I’m gonna get you the best dinner… And hot cocoa, too, how’s that sound?”

“We haven’t got a steady supply of cocoa beans yet,” Roman says without much conviction.

“I’ll cocoa bean anyone that tries to stop me,” Patton insists.

Virgil stifles a laugh behind his hand and pretends he didn’t hear the thinly veiled threat disguised as a pun. He makes a note to kick their search for a jungle into first gear and wonders if Janus would be up for a trip to the west. It is the least explored direction and their terribly empty maps remind them every day. In the meantime, he’ll help Patton to get Roman comfortable and settled. He makes sure Janus goes to bed that night, keeping him company until he’s well and truly deep in sleep.

After one last sweep of the perimeter, Virgil retires to his and Logan’s room. Logan is waiting up for him, reading by candlelight. Virgil changes into his night clothes and slides in under the covers. Logan is warm and, with a fond eye roll, compliant as Virgil tugs at his sleeve until he eventually puts his book away. Logan lays on his back with Virgil splayed half-across his chest; the sensation has always put Logan at ease, having his partner’s presence so physical and grounding and there.

“Will Roman be okay?” Virgil asks in a voice so small that Logan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Like Janus said, Roman has been through worse.” Logan hesitates but not long enough for either of them to actually start thinking about it. “As long as he is careful, which I’m sure Patton will help him be, he’ll recover in no time.”

The tension flows out of Virgil in one slow exhale. “Thanks, L.” He shuffles deeper into the blankets and Logan’s embrace. “Love you.”

“And I you,” Logan responds with a hum, pressing a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #prinxiety #analogical #ts deceit #dani writes #minecraft au #sanders sides #romantic royality #qpr prinxiety #romantic analogical

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untilweyeetagain · 5 years ago

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and i’ll be okay admiring from afar (max mayfield x fem! reader)

Pairing: Max Mayfield/Fem! Harrington! Reader

Word Count: 3337

Warnings: One swear at the end, period-typical homophobia

Notes: This is so self-indulgent lmao,, I hope some of yall like it but even if you don't it doesn't matter bc I really just wrote this for me haha. title is from she by dodie

“Hey, Max, pass me the popcorn,” you whispered, aware that other people in the cinema were still trying to watch whatever movie was playing. You didn’t particularly care what the film was - you had let Max choose it because you knew that you’d spend your time staring at something other than the big screen.

The redhead grabbed the popcorn from where it rested on her lap and wordlessly passed it to you, smiling at you when you whispered your thanks before returning her attention to the movie.

You had spent the last hour of the movie stealing surreptitious glances at the girl next to you, hoping that she was absorbed enough in the action that she didn’t notice. She was beautiful, but you already knew that. The dim lighting in the movie theatre seemed to reveal another type of beauty in her though - the way the lights from the screen danced across her features was mesmerising, and the way her eyes lit up in wonder at the screen in front of you caused your heart to skip a beat more than once.

Having lost yourself in your thoughts once more, you didn’t realise that the film had ended until you heard Max shifting next to you, grabbing her bag from where it lay at her feet. You quickly jumped into doing the same, not wanting her to know that your mind was elsewhere.

“So, how’d you like the film?” She asked as you made your way out of the cinema. You scolded yourself in your head - you should have at least paid attention to some part of the movie because she always asked the same question whenever you two went to the cinema together.

“Um, it was great! You know I prefer comedies to action films, but it was still entertaining. What was your favourite part?” You deflected, knowing that asking that question would send her into a (very cute) ramble about all the best parts of the movie.

As predicted, she immediately launched into a speech about her favourite moments and characters in the film, gesturing wildly in her hands to explain her thoughts about a particular scene. You could honestly listen to her for hours, just to hear her sound so enthusiastic about a topic.

You both made your way through the newly-constructed mall and out towards where your brother was going to pick you up, Max still talking about the movie and you still listening intently, hanging on to every word she said.

Sometimes it worried you, how deeply your feelings towards Max ran, but at other times, such as now, you were just content to be in her presence, ignoring the way your heart stuttered whenever she glanced up at your face.

When you reached the doors of the mall, you and Max made your way towards Steve’s car, finding both he and his friend/coworker Robin occupying the front seats. You pulled open the trunk of the car, grabbing Max’s skateboard and passing it to her before throwing your bag in and slamming it shut.

Turning around, you opened your mouth to say goodbye before pale arms wrapped themselves around your torso and a mess of curly red hair was pushed into your face. You blushed heavily as you returned the tight hug, willing the redness in your cheeks to retreat before Max pulled away.

Eventually, Max broke the hug, but before you could see her face, she spun around and skated off, shouting a goodbye into the air as she gained speed. You called out a quick goodbye too, but it was likely she didn’t hear it, as she was already quite far away.

Deciding to not question why she just ran off like that right now, you clambered into the backseat of your brother’s crappy car and he started the engine, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, Robin turned to you and asked how the movie was. You mumbled something about how it was very intense, repeating some of the things Max had said earlier, hoping that Robin would be satisfied with that answer.

After a few minutes with no reply from Robin (or any input from Steve), you sighed and rested your head on the window, wistfully watching the houses as you passed them as your thoughts turned towards Max again. You knew how you felt about her - you’d known for quite a while, and though it was hard, at first, to feel okay with having a crush on your very female best friend, you were now comfortable enough in your sexuality to admit it to yourself, even if not to others.

The only people who knew you liked girls were, coincidentally, the other two occupants of the car, and while they both knew you liked someone, neither of them knew who (but you had a sneaking suspicion that Robin was beginning to work it out, being the observant person she was).

It had been a great relief to be able to come out to someone you knew would be okay with it, and Robin had been the first of the pair to know, for obvious reasons. She was like the older sister you had never had, and she had comforted you when you had cried to her, still trying to figure out your sexuality - she had reassured you that she didn’t hate you and that Steve wouldn’t either. She had been there when you told Steve too, and, true to her word, Steve took it very well, and had even joked about you two being able to talk about girls together now.

“It’s Max, isn’t it?” Robin whispered, pulling you out of your reverie. Her statement shocked your thoughts into disarray, but at the same time, it wasn’t surprising that your latest parting with Max had solved the puzzle for her.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as tears began to gather in your eyes. Your throat felt full, clogged with words you couldn't say, and your eyes started to burn with unshed tears that you refused to let go. You’d known for so long about your feelings for Max, but hearing them spoken aloud was difficult.

Robin reached around behind her to pat your knee in a comforting gesture, and Steve met your eyes in the mirror, a soft look on his face. Just having the pair of them be so nice about it is enough for the tears to start rolling down your face, all the pent-up worry you had about telling anyone that you were crushing on your best friend evaporating as your brother and the girl who is basically your sister are both so understanding and kind about it.

After sharing a glance with Robin, Steve turns his gaze back to the road as he breaks the silencing, stating: “You should tell her - even if she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s pretty damn clear that she cares about you enough to not ostracize you because of it.”

You snort despite yourself at the words he uses - he’s clearly been hanging out with Dustin and Robin way too much if he knows what ‘to ostracize’ means. You can tell that it was intentional, that he knew the response it would garner, and you are thankful to him for easing the tension you felt.

“It’s not that easy though, Steve. I know that she’s my best friend, but what if she decides that she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore when she finds out I like girls, let alone if she found out I liked her. I couldn’t risk our friendship by telling her. She means too much to me.”

Sighing, you turned to face the window again, trying to signal to the other two that the conversation was over. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing Max’s friendship, especially over something you could quite easily keep from her, although hiding it was becoming increasingly harder as the days passed and your feelings became stronger.

Luckily for you, neither Robin nor Steve pushed you any further, and the three of you spent the remainder of the drive to Robin’s house in silence. Once Robin was safely inside, Steve drove back to your home, which you already knew would be empty. Your parents were never home, always out on business trips or vacations, leaving the house to just you and Steve. This had made it ideal for sleepovers with the Party when you were younger, but now that you were in high school, it was more lonely than anything else.

When you got home, you went upstairs and lay on your bed, grabbing your Rubik’s cube from your bedside table and fiddling with it as your mind drifted elsewhere. It was silent except for the clicking of the cube as you played with it until a tapping on your window interrupted the peace.

Feeling slightly confused, you got up and walked towards the window, opening the blinds to see what was making that noise. Below stood Max, a couple of pebbles in hand, just getting ready to throw another one when she noticed that you had seen her. You raced down the stairs to let her into the house, wondering what she was doing here.

“You could’ve just rung the doorbell like everyone else does. My parents are never home and Steve doesn’t care about who comes over.” She stepped around you to come in as you spoke, and once she’d propped her skateboard against the wall, she turned around to face you.

This close, you could see the tiny freckles that covered the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, and you also thought you could see a pinkness beginning to tinge her cheeks, but that must’ve been your imagination. Before you could ask her why she was here, she began to speak.

“I- when I got home earlier, my dad, he asked where I’d been, and I said out with you, and then he said that while I was out, he’d been through my things in my room and found my old diary, and- and- and he saw what I’d written in there, and then he- he said some really, really mean stuff, Y/N, and t-then he… he kicked me out because of what I’d written in there,” she was sobbing as she spoke, choking on her words as she tried to get them out, and you immediately wrapped her in her arms, trying to tell her that it was going to be okay, even though you had no way of guaranteeing that.

She took a moment to try and catch her breath as she continued to cry, and then she began to speak again. “I had nowhere else to go, Y/N, I- I’ve got no money or clothes or anything, I just grabbed my skateboard to get out of there before he physically threw- threw me out. Please, can I stay here for tonight? I just need to let him calm down, and-” You cut her off before she could finish her sentence, pulling back from the tight hug you had wrapped her in so that you could look her in the eye as you spoke.

“Max, you can stay here for as long as you need, okay? Don’t worry, it’ll all be okay. You can borrow some of my clothes, we’re basically the same size, and you can take one of the guest rooms,” you said, trying to reassure her that it was going to be fine.

As you were talking, you heard your brother come down the stairs to see what had happened, evidently having heard the door open and then the sounds of conversation. You briefly explained what had happened as you held Max close to you again, the redhead in question trying to calm her breathing. At your request, Steve disappeared upstairs once more, off to make sure the room Max would stay in was ready.

“Hey, Maxie, let’s go upstairs, shall we? We can go to my room while Steve sorts out yours, and if you’re okay with it, we can talk some about what you wrote that made your dad do what he did, alright?” You coaxed her up and into your bedroom, sitting down on your bed with her. Her arms were still wrapped around you tightly as if you were her lifeline, and she hadn’t said a word since you’d started talking.

You heard her sigh as she loosened her grip on your torso, flopping bonelessly back against your pillows and reaching for your hand, wanting to maintain some sort of physical connection while she tried to explain what had caused this situation.

“First, before I tell you anything, I need you to swear to me, truthfully, that you won’t stop being my friend when I tell you this. I need you to promise me that things will stay the same between us, no matter how you feel about what I’m about to say.”

“I.. I promise, Max, but I don’t understand why this is really necessary - nothing could make me hate you or stop being your friend! You’re my best friend, Max, and nothing will change that.” It worried you slightly, how serious Max had become about this, but then again, you reasoned, she did get kicked out for this.

“Okay. So, uh, I don’t really know how to say this… um, okay. I’ll just spit it out. Here we go. Y/N, I like girls. Not.. not boys.” Never in a million years could you have guessed that she would say that. But she had said it, and it was causing your brain to short-circuit. Max took your silence as you hated her for it though and immediately began rambling, tears forming in her eyes and falling down her cheeks.

“I- I’m sorry, I know it’s not okay or anything but I can’t help it, and-” you cut her off, tightening the grip you had on her hand as she tried to pull away.

“Hey, hey, stop crying, alright? I was just… shocked, which is why I didn’t say anything. But I don’t hate you and I’m not gonna stop being your friend, okay? So please, please don’t worry about that. It would be quite hypocritical of me to not support you liking girls, after all.”

You maintained eye contact with her until your own confession, when you tore your gaze down to your lap, blushing heavily. She picked up on what you had meant quite quickly, and when you glanced up at you, she was grinning widely.

“You- you mean…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I, um, I like girls too.”

It was a relief and a half to finally get that off your chest to someone whom you didn’t view as a sibling. There was silence between the two of you for a while, both of you trying to process what the other had just revealed.

All you could think about was that Max likes girls, Max likes girls, she actually likes girls! and although you knew better than to get your hopes up, you did secretly wish that because she liked girls, she’d like you, but you knew it didn’t work like that.

Still, a whisper of hope remained in your heart as you spent the rest of the evening trying to distract Max from her worries with more light-hearted conversation. Steve ordered pizza when it was time for dinner, and the three of you watched some dumb game shows while eating it, laughing over the ridiculous answers some of the contestants gave.

By the time you felt tired enough to sleep, Max was already half-way dead to the world, so you supported her weight back up the stairs and then grabbed her some pyjamas to sleep in. After you were both changed, Max dragged you into her room for cuddles, still needing comfort and reassurance from you.

It didn’t take long for Max to fall asleep, but sleep seemed to be evading you - your heart was hammering too hard from your proximity to your crush for you to feel even a semblance of tiredness.

Eventually, you began extricating yourself from Max’s grip (the girl was surprisingly strong, even in her sleep) so you could get back to your own room. When you were free of the sleeping redhead’s hold, you looked back down at her, taking in the peaceful look on her face.

She was beautiful all the time, but now, she was… breathtaking. The thin light of the moon, unobscured by unclosed curtains, danced across her features, making her seem to glow. She was an angel, then, with an aura of serenity and a halo of hair surrounding her head.

Seeing her like that, all of your control flew out of the window and you acted on impulse, leaning down from your perch beside her to lay a small, feather-light kiss upon her forehead. It lasted only a second, but that second was enough for you to feel how soft her skin was under your lips, and you wished you could kiss her all the time just to feel it again.

Your heart was racing as you forced yourself to move away from her, making your way towards the door, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard Max’s soft, sleepy voice from across the room.

“Did you just… kiss me?” She asked. Fuck. Clearly, she hadn’t been as asleep as you had thought. You had no idea how to respond, your mind drawing up blank as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

“... Yes,” you whispered hesitantly, still not turning to look at her even as you heard her shuffling around to be able to see you better. You knew what was about to happen - she would tell you that she didn’t like that, and would either stop being your friend, or your friendship would just be really weird from here on out.

“Come here,” she said, holding out her hand to you, and you never could say no to her, could you? You slowly made your way back to her bed, taking the extended hand and going to sit down on the bed before you found yourself being tugged to lay back down next to Max, who nuzzled her head into the crook of your neck as soon as you were close enough.

“Why?” she asked, the word coming out slightly slurred due to her sleepy state. It was the question you had known was coming but had hoped wouldn’t be voiced.

“Because I,” you started, getting choked up on the words you had suppressed for so long. “I like you, Max. As more than a friend.” There. You said it. There was no taking it back now, but you had some reassurance in the fact that she may not remember it come morning.

You had expected Max to say something after that, so you were fairly surprised when she lifted her head and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. It wasn’t like how first kisses were always described in fiction - there were no fireworks or anything extreme like that, just a warm feeling of affection flowing between the two of you.

“I like you too,” Max murmured, pulling away from your lips and snuggling back into you. She fell asleep quickly, leaving you with your thoughts, the memory of her kiss playing on repeat in your head. Feeling tired yourself, though, you pushed your analysis of today’s events from your head to be dealt with tomorrow and cuddled into Max, finally falling asleep in the warmth and safety of her arms.

Much later in the evening, a tired Steve Harrington is making his way towards his bedroom when he sees the guest room door ajar and, feeling curious, peeks inside to see his sister and her friend tangled together in their sleep. He smiles softly, closing the door behind him as he moves away, thinking about where he’ll get the twenty bucks he now owes Robin.

#max mayfield #stranger things #post-season 3 #robin buckley #steve harrington #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x fem reader #stranger things oneshot #oneshot

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jpegjade · 5 years ago

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Bookstore Blues - Spencer

Request: hi! panic attack was beautiful and I’m so happy ur taking requests! I want to request something where spence had a really long, hard case so you cheer him up by going to a bookstore. :)

Warnings: Brief talk about the idea of a case but nothing in detail. More like a reference for a short paragraph. Also sad!spencer that turns into less sad!spencer

You were so excited to see Spencer again. It had been a long week without him and you missed him so badly that it hurt. Sure, you sent texts and talked to him over the phone but that was sporadic during the week. Sitting in his office without him wasn’t the same as when you were on your laptop and he was writing notes across the room from you. Eating breakfast wasn’t the same without him pouring an incredible amount of sugar in both of your coffee cups. Coming home just wasn’t as exciting without him being there to come home to.

You got in the car, driving slower than usual and being extra careful. You usually drove faster when you were excited, according to Spencer, so you promised him that you would be extra careful when you were driving to pick him up. Every light seemed like it lasted forever and the morning traffic seemed like it was slower than usual but you didn’t care that much because in 10 minutes, the plane landed and you got to see your fiance again.

Spencer finally walked out of the building to find you leaning on the car, arms crossed with the biggest smile on your face. He straightened his back and smiled a little at the sight of you but you noticed he still looked like hell. You heard it in his voice this past week whenever you were able to have a phone call but you didn’t think it was that bad.

The rest of the team was coming out of the building behind him so you restrained yourself from running and basically tackling him but once he got to you, he put down his bags and basically crumpled. He put his full weight into the hug and breathed a sigh of relief at finally being in your arms again. He waited for this moment for an entire week and it finally took a load off of him.

“Come on.” You said, opening the trunk to put his go-bag away. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The drive was a little longer than expected because you had to reorient yourself with the directions. Google Maps kept rerouting you and Spencer couldn’t help because he wasn’t supposed to see where you were going. It was a surprise, after all.

He was quiet. More quiet than usual. You didn’t want to ask because that’s just how he processed particularly hard cases: the kids. Those were the ones that got him in his head and kept him there. With the adults, there was reasoning, it made more sense to him. But the kids? They hadn’t done anything. He thought about every image burned into his mind, all of the innocent kids he couldn’t save…

“We passed the exit for the apartment.” He said, confused.

“Yeah, I told you I had a surprise for you.” You said, smiling. You glanced over at him quickly. He was staring at you, slightly confused.

You didn’t do surprises because you hated being surprised. The one time he surprised you for your birthday by throwing a surprise party, you accidentally broke his nose after he popped out from behind the couch and your automatic reaction was to swing first. He learned his lesson and learned to only do things like surprise you with flowers occasionally or small things.

“Okay.” He went back to being quiet but he tried to connect with you by putting his hand on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed your leg while he went back to being quiet. It was more for him to try and connect with you, to ground himself, but you couldn’t help but feel a shiver run through your body when you thought about what else he could be doing. You felt guilty for that because you knew that he wasn’t in the right headspace but it wasn’t like you were asking for that. You were just fantasizing about memories.

“Hey, baby?” You said, finally recognizing where you were. You turned onto the street where the surprise was and you watched his reaction turn from stoic to curious to recognition.

“A bookstore?” He said, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

“Yeah. I know this case was particularly difficult and I know you’re tired but I thought maybe we could escape for a little while into a little hole in the wall bookstore. I just wanted to help you…” You looked down sheepishly, eyes on the gear shift between the two of you. You started to feel a little ashamed because it wasn’t a grand gesture but he used his hand to lift your chin, bringing your face level to his.

“I love you, y/n. This is exactly what I need. You and a bookstore have made my day, my week even.” He kissed you, soft and slow. It was sweet and gentle and he smiled when he came out of it, a genuine smile.

The next three hours were spent going through stacks of books. You found one nice romance book about two star crossed lovers while he found 21 different books, reading a few of them twice because he enjoyed them that much. You decided to buy the book you started reading and he bought a few of his favorites, although he didn’t know where he would put them. Your bookshelves were pretty full after you consolidated both of your book collections into the apartment.

You hadn’t planned anything else for the day other than taking a nap later. You woke up extra early to clean everything and make sure he didn’t have anything to worry about when he got home.

“Can we walk around? It’s a nice day and the cumulus clouds blowing west at 7 miles per hour gives the weather the perfect mix of sun and shade.” He intertwined your fingers, holding your hand in his. He loved little PDA things like this, although it took him a little while at the beginning of the relationship to get comfortable with showing any signs. These days, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Only if we can stop at this Bistro a couple blocks down because I’m hungry.” You looked up at him, admiring his jawline. Damn it was sharp.

“Yes, food and then we can go home and cuddle? I need it after this week.” He looked down at you. He still looked like hell but he looked happier. Happy hell.

“Yes, sir. Cuddles it is.”

You know you can’t fix him, make him all better in a couple hours, but you can help ease his pain and heartache. You can help him with distractions, conversations, and reminders that not everything ends in pain. You remind him that he doesn’t have to live his life in pain, and he will be forever grateful for that. He’s forever grateful for you.

________

I realize I’m a long-winded writer bc I get carried away. I wanted to write more for this one though but I didn’t really bc it’s nice how it is

Tags:

@ancailinaerach

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fluff

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ickle-ronniekins · 5 years ago

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in every lifetime, fred x reader

request: from @fredweasleyismyking91: I just read your George soulmate au and I’m obsessed. I love soulmates so much and that one was amazing. I’d love to read a Fred soulmate if you were ever up for it!

prompt: soulmate au in which characters have specific phrases their soulmates will say to them written on their wrists like tattoos—they will now know they are soulmates until the first one speaks the phrase

A/N: literally losing my shit. thank you for this request and for your kind words. reader is american and i made this after the war bc i do not live in a universe where my poor freddie doesn’t survive—I JUST LOVE HIM, ALRIGHT? also, sorry this is insanely long but it’s worth the read, i hope?

You stared blankly at your wrist in the middle of a very crowded, very bustling Diagon Alley. London was not at all what you’d expected. You peered quickly at the words. Won’t cost you a dime.

You thought it was silly, at first, the words your soulmate will speak to you, tattooed on your body. It looked absolutely ridiculous. It looked like the absolute dumbest quote in the history of the world. You found it to be quite annoying, really. When your parents told you what it was, you nearly snorted. You were just a young child. It sounded like the silliest thing in the entire world to you.

But as you grew older and more curious, you searched Ilvermorny for a glimpse—maybe your soulmate was here? It’d make the most sense, of course, for him to be prancing around the American wizarding school somewhere, close by—you weren’t planning on leaving America after graduating, anyway. But there was no one—not a soul—who gave you that feeling of hope, that feeling of… that must be him.

Oh but your friends absolutely loved to play that game. Picking and choosing, glancing anxiously at the phrases on their wrists, peering admiringly at your schoolmates and deciding which ones they’d like to spend the rest of their lives with, how they’d finally find them, when it would happen—at least before the age of twenty four—well, that’s what your parents had said, anyway. Your friends’ phrases were, to your dismay, much more sophisticated and seemingly more exciting and well—a bit more special than yours. Won’t cost you a dime. Absolutely bogus.

This game they were playing was, of course, based mostly on looks and not at all on personalities, but rather just their dreams and what they so desperately wished their lifetime of love would look like. Plus, you were all still so young, all they wanted to do was have a little fun, didn’t they?

So they dated, even though these people hadn’t said the words they yearned for. No reality had seemed to set in yet. Not one of them had found their soulmate. You supposed, watching them, you could do the same thing. But what was the point in dating someone you knew wasn’t the person you’d spend your life with? You opted out. You just wanted to wait for him. He’d say the words when the time was right. It would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?

As the years went on, you did seem to mostly forget about the words on your body, fading lightly. In the bustle of your busy life, it wasn’t something you necessarily tried to focus on, like all of the others around you, searching faces in the crowd, desperately trying to find the ones. When it’s time, it’s time, you kept telling yourself. But the fear that you’d never actually find him did nestle itself in the back of your mind—you never, ever, ever let yourself touch that thought. Not even a little.

You were rapidly approaching the age of twenty two. You’d finished Ilvermorny, began your studying to eventually be able to teach there, and tried to not focus on what everyone else seemed to be so obsessed with.

And on your twenty second birthday, you were offered the position of a teacher—not at Ilvermorny, no, but at the wizarding school across the pond. Yes, you were moving to London.

It was terrifying and exciting and exhilarating at the same time.

And so you packed your things, said farewell to your parents, and ended up in a very tiny, one bedroom apartment in the middle of London, just a few streets down from Diagon Alley—the bustling street where all witches and wizards went for their school supplies—and you supposed, professors, too.

Well, you knew what you needed to do.

Which brings you to now.

Somebody bumped into you while running through the street. “Sorry, love,” they said, and were off in a flash, barely noticing the shift of your body on the middle of the cobblestone. And then, a flash of light, and a ton of rain.

Was London notorious for its rainy days? You didn’t know, this was your first time here, of course. And where on earth was your umbrella?

As you’d dreaded—back at your half unpacked apartment, probably collecting dust at the bottom of one of your many, many boxes that still needed to be unloaded. Brilliant.

You ran into the store nearest you, quickly running through the flash flood, soaked to the core—your long hair dripping along the carpet. You didn’t know what to expect when entering the shop, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

It was probably the most colorful room you’d ever seen in all your life. Bright hues of orange and green and purple and red made the shop seem even much bigger than it was—loads of toys and supplies were making many sounds that seemed to reverberate off of the walls. Students and children and parents alike were chattering animatedly and peering admiringly at all of the inventions that were stocked very highly on the shelves. It was rather bustling, indeed.

“Looking for anything in particular?” a cool voice asked. When you turned around, a red haired man in a brown suit looked at you with wide eyes. “Bloody hell—get caught in that rain, did you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” you told him. Was he the owner, perhaps? “Do you have a restroom or something I can wash up in?”

Another man who looked exactly like him sauntered over and asked his twin, “Georgie, I’ve just—lord, you alright, love?”

Love? Does every man in this country call women that? Not quite like America. Still, you couldn’t help but grin a little. “I’m fine—just wondering if you have a place I could dry off, maybe—”

George, the first one, said to you, “We’ve got dry towels—let me go and fetch them for you—”

“Believe there’s a sweatshirt in the pile of clean laundry too, mate, if you want to grab that,” the second one said.

You shook your head and said, “No, no, I’m fine, really—I live just up the way—just a towel will do.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, motioning for you to follow him. “C’mon, we’ll make you a bit of tea to warm you up,”

Okay, so, definitely the owners. They seemed so young to own such a successful shop in the middle of the busiest street in London. They couldn’t be older than twenty two, twenty three? How on earth were they handling all this chaos?

You’d learned a lot in your short time at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was a prank shop, basically, run by two boys who, although adults, did seem to love acting like children. Born and raised as two kids who wanted more than anything to continue making people laugh, even in the darkest of times, they’d hatched this plan at the mere age of five, and they’d not once teetered off track. Not very pleasing to their mother, you learned, who’d spent her lifetime watching over seven mischievous children, but she’d softened when she’d realized how well off they were, especially after the war you’d heard all about when you were back home.

As you pulled your still damp hair back into a high ponytail, you said to them both, “Well, thank you both very much—not exactly how I’d imagined my first day in London to be, but—I appreciate you taking me under your wing.”

With a swift goodbye as George was pulled away by customers, he told you, “Visit soon!” The other man stood in front of you with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

You laughed softly. “I promise, yes. Thank you…”

“Fred,” he said, taking your hand in his.

You bit your bottom lip. “Y/N...well, thanks, again—I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so,” he said and winked. Was he seriously flirting right now? You glanced quickly at your wrist, taking a deep breath in. Was it him? Probably not. There were millions of others in Europe. You were strangely sad at the thought. You barely knew this guy. And who knew? Your soulmate could still be back home. Fred brought you back to reality when he asked, “Visit soon, yeah?”

You scratched the top of your head and grinned at him. “Yeah, soon...have a good night.”

And so your first night in London hadn’t gone exactly as planned. But what did you expect, really? Chaos. Always.

You were met the next morning with sunshine flooding through your apartment and boxes that needed unpacking. You groaned at the thought. Instead, you made your way into Diagon Alley again, this time determined to be able to shop more of the little stores in the sunlight, not having to escape the street due to flash flooding.

It was hot. You were surprised how hot it was. Your pale green sundress swung at your sides, and you pulled your long hair into a side braid to get it off of our neck. And as you’d assumed, the street was incredibly busy. But you didn’t seem to mind. You loved the bustle of the city.

You clumsily tripped over the cobblestone in your sandals, bumping hard into someone next to you. Looking down at their feet and regaining your composure, you said, “I’m so terribly sorry—”

“Back again, are we?”

It was Fred, the man from yesterday. He was smirking at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Well hey, Fred.”

His raised his eyebrows at you, seemingly impressed with the fact that after one brief meeting, you could tell him and his twin brother apart. “Impressive, honestly, nobody can really tell us apart except our mum,”

You smiled and glanced down at your shoes, biting your bottom lip.

“Listen, I’m about to grab a bite—and you certainly look like you could use a bit of a break,” he glanced down at the many bags you had in your hands, “care you join me?”

You went against your better judgement. Two days in a row you’d run into this man you barely know, and you’d already managed to have his sweatshirt, towel, and a pair of sweatpants in your apartment, and now he was inviting you for a bite to eat. An adventurous few days you were having, indeed. The field day your friends would be having with this information—

“Okay,” you told him, pushing the thought away and following him across the crowded street where he grabbed your hand and cut through very busy traffic.

“So,” he asked when he finally stopped walking. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough,” you said immediately, not even thinking on it.. “And you?”

“I dunno,” he said truthfully, cocking his head to the side and looking up at the sky. “It changes daily. Ready?”

He pulled you closer towards the shop you were in front of, and when you looked up, you noticed a sign that read: Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

Confused, you asked, “This is the bite you meant?”

“Yeah,” he told you matter-of-factly, reading your face for any sign of amusement. “C’mon, America, don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream for lunch before.”

You smiled at him. America. What the hell—it was adorable, and you were nearly melting into a puddle in front of him. What were you doing? It was the accent, it had to be—and that red hair. God, the things your friends would be saying—

You pushed his arm softly and told him, “I shall have you know that I have definitely had ice cream for lunch.”

“Good,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and pulling you inside. “Let’s go, then.”

And after this second day in Diagon Alley, your afternoon meet up with Fred for ice cream from Florean Fortescue’s became a daily thing. It was addicting, this ice cream—absolutely nothing like you’d had back home, and thank goodness Diagon Alley was so large, because you were able to walk off those calories in a heartbeat.

As the summer dragged on and the impending school year drew nearer, you’d kept returning to the street—of course, for your school supplies, yes, but also to see him. You’d find yourself, every so often, glancing down at your wrist, looking at the silly phrase, wanting to forget about your soulmate altogether. You found yourself covering it with bracelets and watches, hoping that Fred would never see it and never have to ask about it.

You’d spent many afternoons in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, as well.

It proved to be very difficult to leave every evening, actually.

What were you doing?

You needed to draw yourself back. You needed too. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken, in a foreign city, before starting a new job in a new place with new people. It was a disaster in the making. You needed, more than anything, to protect your heart.

And so just a couple of days before the start of term, you slowly made your way into the shop, ready to tell Fred that you wouldn’t be seeing him for a long time, as term was about to begin, when he met you at the front of the store.

“Y/N! Glad to see you this morning,” he said brightly, coming round the bend of the back end of the store. “Now, when you get to Hogwarts in four days time, remember to tell Minerva McGonagall how fond you are of me and George—I reckon she’ll be so pleased you know us,”

You cocked your head to the side and placed your hand on your hip, smiling sweetly at him. “Why do I have the feeling that she’d actually be less than impressed at that?”

Pretending to fall backwards, Fred told you, “I’m heartbroken you think that, Y/N,”

I’m just heartbroken, you thought dramatically, shaking the thoughts from your head at how absolutely overly emotional you were being. Ridiculous. “Freddie listen, I—”

“Ooh, we’ve got just the thing for your classroom—it’s bloody brilliant, c’mon, you have to take it—it’ll be a good luck present, on us, yeah? C’mon then, won’t cost you a sickle,”

Begrudgingly, you followed him to the back of the store, when your heart stopped.

He laughed then, shaking his head and laughing to himself. “You’re from the other end. Reckon I probably should’ve said, ‘won’t cost you a dime’, is that way they say in America?”

And just like that, your head shot up and muscles tensed. That moment of reality. It was like you‘d gotten the wind knocked out of you, just as your parents told you. “Oh my god, what did you say?”

You watched Fred stop in his tracks, glance down at his wrist, and turn slowly back towards you, in the middle of a crowded store. Your heart and mind were racing, and it took every single ounce of you to restrict yourself from nearly jumping on top of him—

“It’s you,” he said, as if the entire world around the two of you had stopped abruptly.

“Get the wind knocked right out of you?” you asked him, pointing to his wrist and to yours.

He looked down at your hand and then back at you. Did he have tears in his eyes? “Yeah,” he said breathlessly—and then, that silly sarcasm. “I knew it.”

You actually laughed in the surprise of the moment. “You did not!”

“Well, I hoped,” he admitted. “I reckon you did, too?” He smiled sweetly at you. Yes, you’d hoped, too. He knew that. He could see it in your eyes from the moment you met one another, when you were rain soaked and shivering from the cold in his very busy store. He was in love with you right then.

Teasingly, you said aloud, “A British prankster. All my life I never pictured my soulmate as a British prankster.”

“Can’t say I ever pictured my soulmate as an American girl who’d end up working at the school I grew up in,”

You asked him jokingly, “Are you disappointed?”

Beaming at you, he replied, “Definitely not disappointed, America.”

It was really difficult to not turn to complete putty in his hands when he was so goddamn charming. It was inevitable.

You stood there, both peering at one another, wondering—what happens next?

And what kind of soulmate would you be if you didn’t ask him, “So can I kiss you now? I’m dying, here,”

And what kind of soulmate would he be if he didn’t tease you, “Well, yeah, darling, what the bloody hell are you waiting for?”

His lips were soft and warm, and it felt like you’d kissed them a million times before. He was your soulmate—in this life, and in any and every other lifetime there was—it would always be him—this confident, flirtatious, silly red headed boy who loved, more than anything, to bring a smile to people’s faces.

“Well thank bloody Merlin the two of you finally figured it out.”

George came down the steps from upstairs and wrapped his arms around the two of you. Up on the top floor, you saw another red headed boy and girl, who you knew must’ve been Ron and Ginny. Or was it Bill? Or Percy? Or Charlie? Guess you’d have time to figure it out. They both smiled at you.

“You knew?” you and Fred both asked George at the same time.

George chucked, “Yeah—it was really obvious, actually.” To you, he kissed you on the cheek and said, “Well—welcome to the family, officially! So, when’s the wedding? Kids on the way yet? Mate, you know mum is absolutely going to flip her lid when she hears the news—”

You choked back a laugh. Intertwining your fingers in Fred’s, you said to them both, “That’s a lot of steps we’ve skipped, there,”

And as he jokingly pushed his twin away, Fred turned back towards you, wound his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple as you draped your arms across his shoulders. His lips were pressed to your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine when he said, “I can’t wait to share all of them with you, my love.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @fredweasleyismyking91

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated lovelies :)

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fred weasley soulmate au #soulmate au #soulmate aus #bye #pls dont let this flop omg it took me D A Y S

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dancinginthesliverglow · 4 years ago

Text

Assistant, Scholar, Son

By @art-in-the-sunlight for @alicecasch in the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds & Michelle Jones, Tony Stark & James Rhodes, Tony Stark & Happy Hogan

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, James Rhodes, Happy Hogan, Jim Mortia, Roger Harrington, Mr. Delmar

Summary: “Historical/Old Fashioned AU” and “Tony is Peter’s teacher.” I’d really love to see small moments where Tony realizes that he loves Peter (like that “oh. Oh” moment in fics, but make it platonic). Also, could you include a scene where they’re both looking at the stars/at a sunset/sunrise? (Just, give me pretty skies and I’ll squeal happily for hours basically). Also I love when MJ and Ned have to interact with Tony bc Peter’s being a dumbass and they’re concerned friends.

Its the 1900s. Ned gets sick, and in order to help pay the doctor fees, Peter looks for a job. He comes across James Rhodes, who believes his best friend Tony Stark is in need of an assistant. But does he really need an assistant? Or something more?

…okay so I swear I intended this to be around 2000-3000 words. I don’t know how it ended up at 5700 words with a few time gaps. I had a lot of fun planning and writing this out, and I hope you enjoy it :)

ao3 link

Peter paced worriedly outside of the orphanage boy’s bedrooms. He shared a worried glance with MJ, who was sitting with her head in her hands nearby.

“He’s never stayed this long, MJ.” Peter muttered under his breath, clearly stressed. “What- Do you think-”

“I don’t know Peter.” MJ responded. She raised her head out of her hands and looked at Peter.

“I-” Peter started, but he was interrupted by the door opening. The orphanage Director, Roger Harrington and Doctor Morita stepped out.

Doctor Morita was talking to the Director. “He’s still hanging in there, but he’s going to need doses more frequently. I recommend a spoonful daily, before breakfast.”

Director Harrington nodded solemnly. “Thanks for the help, Doctor.” He handed Doctor Morita a pouch full of coins, and then showed the Doctor out.

Peter and MJ went into the room. In the furthest bed lay their best friend, Ned Leeds. He was fast asleep, presumably from the medicine the Doctor gave him. Peter sat down next to Ned and took his hand. “Ned,” Peter said, his voice wavering slightly. “You gotta fight this. I know you can do it.”

MJ replaced the hot, damp cloth on Ned’s forehead with a cool one. “That’s right, loser. Peter would fall apart without you.”

“Hey!” Peter said indignantly.

MJ leveled Peter with a look.

Peter sighed, knowing it was true.

Director Harrington walked back into the room. “Peter, MJ, I know you guys want to stay with Ned but he needs to rest now.”

“How is he?” MJ inquired.

“Doc says he’s going to need daily doses of medicine. We’re barely able to cover the costs of medicine as it is.” The director sat down on the bed next to Ned’s.

“I can get another job?” said Peter. “Mr. Delmar only needs me in the evenings when he’s cleaning and closing up the shop. I could get the other kids, Abe and Jason to help with my chores!”

“I could help too,” interjected MJ. “Mrs. Daly’s been asking if I can stay longer, and work more days in her shop.”

Director Harrington sighed. “If you can convince Abe and Jason to cover your chores, go ahead.” He stood up. “You two need to take care of yourselves, no overworking alright? You’re no help to Ned if you get sick.” Director Harrington pulled them in for a side hug. “It’ll be alright, kiddos. Ned will recover. Have some faith, alright?”

MJ and Peter nodded, and held onto each other tightly. Ned had to get better. He would.

~ ~ ~

The next day, Peter was at the market looking for a job. He asked the local farmers, fishermen, barbers, even blacksmiths and butchers, but they all turned him away due to inexperience or because he wasn’t able to commit to a full time job. (Mr. Delmar was kind to Peter, almost like an uncle, and he let Peter take home half the shop’s tips to take care of Ned. Peter wasn’t going to give it up).

After getting rejected by the bookmaker (he had taken one look at Peter’s worn down clothing and turned away) Peter began to slowly walk out. He rarely got the opportunity to read anymore and he figured a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Peter wandered into the science section, and quietly pulled The Scientific Revolution: Wave Theory of Light by Stark, Anthony off the shelf.

It was then he overheard two men across the book maker’s shop talking.

“And it’s not like Stark at all to send us on a wild goose chase?” Huffed the first man, clearly annoyed.

“Just keep looking. Tones said the book was here.” said the second man. He dressed in an army uniform, and had several medals hanging on his jacket.

“What was the name of the book?”

The army man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall.”

Peter looked up from this book, at the shelf. The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall sat right in front of him.

Peter picked up the book and made his way over to the men. “Uh, excuse me sir? I couldn’t help overhearing that you were looking for this book?”

The army man took the book and read the spine. “The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall. Huh, thanks kiddo.” He handed the book to the second man, who went to pay for it, before studying Peter. “What’s your name, son? How well can you read?”

“I’m Peter. I can read fairly well and I can get through most books, sir”

“That’s impressive, Peter. Who taught you?”

“My parents, Ben and Mary Parker, taught me the basics, sir. They were scientists.”

“The Parkers.” The army man turned to the second man, who had just returned, book in hand. “Didn’t Tones work with them a few times?”

The second man shrugged.

“I heard they died a few years ago.” The army man said, not unkindly. He waited to see Peter nod before continuing. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must be looking for work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me. My friend needs an assistant. I can’t promise anything but an opportunity. You’ll have to work hard, but if you take after your parents, you should be fine.”

“I�� wow thank you sir!” Peter put his book The Scientific Revolution: Wave Theory of Light back on the shelf followed the army man to a carriage waiting outside the shop.

“It’s Colonel Rhodes.” The Colonel gestured to the second man who was prepping the horses to travel. “That’s Happy. He’s Tones’ carriage driver.”

“He doesn’t seem very happy, for someone named Happy.” Peter mused. Colonel Rhodes snorted in amusement, before climbing into the carriage with Peter.

~ ~ ~

Half an hour later, Peter was following Colonel Rhodes into the largest mansion - if it could even be called that - he had seen in his entire life. Peter struggled not to gape as they walked into the hall. The ceiling was twice as high as a normal house, and that was just the first floor. Fancy paintings and sculpture tastefully lined the walls. Peter was almost scared of touching anything, lest it break.

“Rhodeybear! You’re back!” Peter looked forward and saw a man quickly descend from the grand staircase towards them.

“Wait- did you mean Mr. Stark as in The physicist Stark? The Mr. Stark who is single handedly revolutionizing the field of physics and mathematics? That Mr. Stark?” Peter hissed worriedly under his voice.

Colonel Rhodes put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. “Hey Tones! How have you been doing?”

Mr. Stark looked sad for a moment. “Uh, nevermind about that.” He spotted Peter. “Who is this? He isn’t mine, is he?” Tony joked, studying Peter. Peter felt as if he was under a microscope. He was all too aware of the large gap in social status. Peter Parker, the orphan, and Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the entire known world.

Colonel Rhodes clapped Peter on the back. “I hope not. This is Parkers’ kid, Peter. I was thinking, since Pepper returned to her brother’s you could use an assistant.”

“And you brought me a child? No, no, nope. Rhodey, you know I don’t do kids.” Mr. Stark turned away and headed down the hallway, to the kitchen.

Colonel Rhodes followed him, pulling Peter. “Tony, you know I leave for the army tomorrow. You’re going to need someone around.”

“I have Happy.”

“Happy’s only here on weekends, and an hour on weekdays.”

Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes stared down at each other across a table. Peter uncomfortably shifted on his feet, wishing he was anywhere else but there.

After almost a minute, Mr. Stark looked away. “Fine, only for you, Rhodeybear.”

“Thank you, Tony. I think you guys might get along. He was reading your book when I found him.”

“Oh?” Mr. Stark turned towards Peter, curious. “What did you think?”

“Um, I didn’t understand all of it - but the parts that I did I thought it was really interesting! I tried replicating some of the experiments, the one where you observe the color spectrum in the shadow of a slit of paper with my friends but we weren’t able to get the right measurements.”

“What materials were you using?”

“Um, just some paper from my Director at the orphanage? We used a knife to make the slit, and an open window for the light source.”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “You need more sophisticated tools. The slit should be less than a tenth of a millimeter, and most knives are about 3 to 6 millimeters wide.”

Peter looked thoughtful. “Would a needle work? The tip is much smaller than a knife, but I’m not sure if it’s less than a tenth of a millimeter.”

“It’s much closer, and I suppose you might be able to get the right size.” Tony mused. You’d have to consider the type of paper and thickness as well…”

Beside Peter, Colonel Rhodes gave Mr. Stark a triumphant smile. “See? I knew it would work out.” He turned to Peter. “Can you start tomorrow?”

“Yes sir. I’m available in the morning and afternoon from Mondays to Saturdays, and I’m free all day on Sunday.”

“Sounds good.” replied Mr. Stark. He stepped forward, and shook Peter’s hand. “I look forward to working with you, Peter Parker.”

“Me too, Mr. Stark.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Happy arrived in the carriage at the orphanage to pick up Peter. Peter quickly got in the carriage, ignoring the amazed and suspicious glances of the other orphanage kids. In reality, the ride wasn’t too long, but the lack of conversation and Peter’s nerves make the ride seem hours long. Colonel Rhodes wasn’t too clear about Peter’s job description the day before. Peter knew he’s going to help Mr. Stark out with his work, but what exactly that entails, Peter has no idea.

Eventually the carriage pulled to a stop outside Mr. Stark’s mansion. Peter climbed out, thanked Happy for the ride, before walking up to the door and knocking. On the first knock, the door swung open. Peter leaned in. “Uh, hello? Mr. Stark?”

Presumably Mr. Stark called out a reply, but it’s muffled. Peter cautiously entered, wiped his shoes and made his way over to where the voice came from. He ends up in the kitchen, and spots Tony putting away a half empty bottle of alcohol.

Hearing Peter come in, Tony glanced behind. “Hey kiddo.”

“Hello Mr. Stark.”

“Rhodey just left for the army yesterday, along with a good portion of my bourbon. I suppose I’ll have to replenish my stash.” Mr. Stark turned around, and studied Peter. “You’re in dire need of a wardrobe upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom, 100 point restoration. I’ll have Happy call someone for this Sunday.”

Mr. Stark spun on his heel and left the kitchen, waving for Peter to follow him. “When did your interest in science start?”

“When I was younger, before my parents passed, they used to show me their blueprints and sketches. Part of their research was working on steam trains and railways. They used to dream about travelling from one side of the country to the hour in a matter of hours. I know it was purely theoretical, and we’re decades or even centuries off from it actually happening but the idea of travelling at that speed is fascinating!”

Mr. Stark stopped in front of a closed door. He placed a hand on the door knob and then turned to Peter. “It may not be as far away as you think.” said Mr. Stark with a smile, before opening the door.

“Woah…” Peter slowly entered the room, completely in awe. The walls were covered in blueprints, sketches and calculations. Peter recognized the sketches on the wall on the left from Mr. Stark’s book on Wave theory of light. The far wall had various sketches of an engine, from multiple angles. In the center was the steam train sketch that his parents had shown him.

Tony walked over to the far wall, and took one of the sketches off the wall. “Several years ago, I worked on his version of the steam train with your parents.” He handed Peter the sketch.

“This-this is the same one they showed me. How-” Peter traces his parents signatures on the bottom right.

“I only worked on one steam train project with your parents. They had their hearts set on this project. It was like they could already see it, the finished product functioning. Sadly they passed away before we could start any of the actual buildings. Somehow it felt wrong to build it without them.” Mr. Stark gazed at the sketches, with an emotion Peter couldn’t quite pin down. “So I improved their systems, made them more efficient and worked on other projects.”

“Like your book?”

“Yes. Among other things.” Tony turned to face Peter. “How do you feel about following in your parents’ footsteps? I think it’s about time Mary and Richard’s dreams start coming true.”

“I…” tears threatened to fall from Peter’s eyes.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

“No! I’d love to work on the steam engine. I just never imagined in my wildest dreams I would be able too.”

“Well, it is going to be a lot of work. You’re going to need some formal education in physics, chemistry and engineering.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “I can do it!”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Alright, Underoos. Let’s turn you into a proper student. You’re in dire need of supplies. Textbooks, chalkboards, and wardrobe upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom, 100 point restoration. I’ll arrange something with Happy. For now, let’s see where you’re at…”

Mr. Stark and Peter spent the rest of the day pouring over textbooks together in the workshop. Mr. Stark quizzed Peter on the topics he was familiar with until he had a good idea of where Peter was, academically. Then Mr. Stark started filling in the gaps and teaching him the new material that Peter had missed. Peter lost track of time. It had been far too long since Peter had a mentor, someone who had the same passion for physics and someone who he could bounce theories and questions off.

Before he knew it, the sun was approaching the horizon, and it was time for Peter to leave for his second job with Mr. Delmar. Tony stood at the door to his mansion, and waved Peter off with a nostalgic, yet content look on his face.

Peter beamed at him, practically bouncing on his toes. For a strange moment, Peter felt the urge to hug Mr. Stark, the way he would hug MJ or Ned, or even his parents before leaving them. Peter shook off the feeling. Mr. Stark was just his employer… right? Somehow, after the day they had, ‘employer’ didn’t quite fit. Peter gave Mr. Stark one last wave before getting into the carriage with Happy.

~ ~ ~

When Peter arrived back at the orphanage later that night, Ned was waiting for him near his bunk bed.

“Peter! How did it go? I can’t believe you actually got to work with the Mr. Stark! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” exclaimed Ned. He was sitting at the corner of the bed next to Peter’s. His eyes were a little red and there was a faint glimmer of sweat on his forehead, but his eyes were focused. It was the best Peter had seen him in a few days.

“It was amazing Ned!” replied Peter with equal enthusiasm. He kicked off his shoes and stood on his bed, bouncing lightly. “He showed me his workshop - you won’t believe it. He has so many projects! He’s done so much more on the Wave Theory of Light! And remember that project that I told you that my parents were working on? The steam train idea? It turns out he was working on it with my parents!”

“Dude that is so amazing! I-”

Hearing the commotion, Director Harrington walked into the room. “Hey! Kids, it’s night time! Settle down. Peter, get off your bed and go wash up. Ned, you need to get some rest.”

“But Peter just got back -”

“I wanna talk to Ned -”

Director Harrington held up his hand, and they fell silent. “I know you’re excited to see each other and talk about Peter’s job. Believe me, I know. But the youngest kids are already asleep, and the rest are getting ready for bed.”

Peter looked around, and saw the younger kids already curled up under their blankets. Reluctantly they nodded, and Director Harrington left.

Peter got down from his bed, as Ned got up. They shared a warm hug, and Peter gently rested his head on the side of Ned’s. He could feel Ned’s heartbeat faintly, and something in him, a weight that had been following him around marginally relaxed. Ned was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? Mr. Stark’s really amazing.” Peter whispered to Ned as he pulled away.

“I can’t wait! Good night Peter.” Ned whispered back.

“Good night Ned.”

Ned walked back to his bunk, and Peter quietly grabbed his pajamas and tiptoed out of the room to clean up before sleep.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the week passed similarly. Peter wakes up before sunrise, quickly eats and does as many of his chores around the orphanage as he can before Happy arrives. Then, he goes to study with Mr. Stark and work on the steam train plans for the rest of the day. Just before supper, Peter goes to Mr. Delmar’s to help serve food and clean up. Afterward, he walks back to the orphanage in the night, manages to tell MJ and Ned a few quiet, exhausted yet ecstatic words about his time with Mr. Stark before Director Harrington sends them to bed. Every night, Peter falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

~ ~ ~

On Sunday, Peter woke up at the crack of dawn. He quickly ate, did his morning chores, waved MJ off as usual (with the promise of telling her everything when he got back) and jumped into the carriage with Happy.

Unlike usual, when Peter reached the mansion, Mr. Stark was impatiently waiting at the door.

Peter jumped out of the carriage, excitement shining on his face. “Good morning Mr. Stark! I can’t wait to get started again!”

“Uh uh. Not in those clothes, you’re not. You got a pass these past few days, but today if you’re going to be a scholar, you need to look the part and have the right materials, Underoos.”

Peter stopped in his tracks. “Um…”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Stark draped an arm over Peter’s shoulders and directed him back into the carriage. “We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” echoed Peter, a little bewildered.

~ ~ ~

Half an hour later, Mr. Stark, Peter and Happy were standing in a tailor’s shop. The tailor took a few measurements, and then handed Peter a dress shirt and pants, before directing him to a room at the back of the shop “Go try these on. They should be a close fit.”

Peter looked at the clothes. It wasn’t the same quality suits that Mr. Stark normally wore, but it was far above Peter’s regular clothes.

“Mr. Stark I couldn’t-”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “Uh uh. If you think I’m going to tinker around with my inventions and current research in those, you are mistaken, Underoos. Now try them on, let’s see.”

Peter walked into the back room and gulped nervously. He could pay for half a month’s worth of medicine with the dress shirt alone. Peter carefully put the dress shirt and pants on. Just as the tailor predicted, the pants and shirt fit nearly perfectly.

Outside, Mr. Stark was arguing, or maybe bantering with Happy, but the moment the door opened they both fell silent.

Happy huffed, turned to Mr. Stark and said, “I told you, he could’ve been your twin.” Mr. Stark muttered something back to Happy, who then left.

Mr. Stark turned to Peter before nodding. “Much better.”

“Um, is this really okay?” Peter looked up at Tony hesitantly. “I mean…”

Mr. Stark waved the question away. “I told you yesterday, Underoos. 100 point restoration. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.” Mr. Stark turned to the tailor. “We’ll order 3 pairs of dress shirts and pants, in addition to these.”

“Three pairs?!” Peter’s incredulous tone echoed around the shop.

Mr. Stark turned around, heading after Happy. “Come on, kiddo. We have a couple more stops.”

Peter dutifully followed Mr. Stark out, into another shop.

~ ~ ~

By the end of the morning, Peter had gotten a pair of new clothes, a new pencil case, box of pencils, a box of chalk, a few slates and a school bag. They were about to leave, when a salesman stepped in front of Mr. Stark.

“Hello good sir! Might I interest you and your son in some fashionable hats?”

“S-son?” Peter squeaked, turning red. Distantly, he heard Mr. Stark chuckle in amusement.

The salesman picked a curved, pencil grey hat and placed it on Peter’s head. It fell down, covering his eyes.

“Hmm, perhaps something smaller.” In a flash, the salesman took the hat off Peter’s head, and grabbed a slightly smaller black hat with a ribbon around it.

Peter ducked out of the way before the salesman could put it on his head. “I-I really don’t think -” Stuttered Peter, clearly flustered by the misinterpretation.

Suddenly, Peter felt a hand on his back, nudging him forward. Peter’s head snapped to Mr. Stark. “My son and I think that’s a wonderful idea.” said Tony, grinning ear to ear.

Peter turned beet red.

“Let’s try the small black newport hat, at the back.” Suggested Mr. Stark.

“A wonderful choice sir!” The salesman handed the hat to Mr. Stark, who gently placed it on Peter’s head. The salesman held up a mirror for Peter to see.

Peter stared at himself. The newport hat complimented his dress shirt well. He looked… different, but in a good way. Smart, more sophisticated, perhaps. Peter stood up straighter, and turned his head to the side, almost mesmerized. A small bit of his curly brown hair poked out from under his hat. Peter tucked it back in, and looked at Mr. Stark. “I like it.”

Mr. Stark agreed. “It suits you.” He turned to the salesman. “We’ll get it.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Stark and Peter were walking back to the carriage where Happy was waiting with his new newport hat. Peter climbed into the carriage after Mr. Stark, took off his hat and stared at it contemplatively.

The carriage started moving. Mr. Stark nudged Peter gently with his elbow. “You’re kinda quiet, Underoos. Everything okay?”

Peter nodded.

“I hope I didn’t bother you with the ‘my son’ comment?” Mr. Stark said it jokingly, but Peter could tell it was a genuine question.

“No no, it’s - that was fine. It just surprised me.” Peter looked up at Mr. Stark and gave him a smile.

“So what’s up then? If the last day is anything to go by, normally you’d be chatting away.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s just a lot.” He held up the hat and his bag, full of school supplies. “This used to be my life, before my parents… Before the orphanage. It’s just bringing back memories, I guess.”

The carriage wheel went over a rock, and Mr. Stark grabbed Peter’s shoulder to steady him. For the longest moment, they were silent, before Mr. Stark spoke up. “I get it, you know? I lost my parents too. Granted, I was older and the situation was drastically different…” Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “My mom, she was a pianist. She had this way of playing, that was so graceful, so… warm. We were never good at communicating, except when we were playing on the piano. It was like the music would speak for us, in our special language.”

“After she passed, I couldn’t barely look at the piano. I boarded up the room, and nearly threw the key away. It wasn’t until about three years ago that Pepper, my uh, friend convinced me to open the room. I thought it was a bad idea. I thought all that hurt would come flooding back. And some of it did, but along with it…”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Yea. It’s like you got a small piece of them back.”

“Yea, something like that.”

The carriage came to a stop abruptly, ending the moment. Peter stuck his head out the side, and realized that they’re already back at the mansion. Mr. Stark and Peter climbed out and headed inside.

“How about some lunch?” suggested Mr. Stark. Peter agrees, and then turns red when his stomach growls audibly. Mr. Stark laughed not unkindly, ruffled Peter’s hair and then went to the kitchen. Peter followed him, still red, but smiling.

Mr. Stark and Peter resumed working in the workshop. It’s equally as studious as the day before, except there’s an air of familiarity that wasn’t there before. Just like yesterday, Peter’s attention was consumed by his excitement to learn, and he doesn’t notice the time fly by, until it’s approaching sunset. Mr. Stark asked Peter if he had to leave, but it’s Peter’s day off from Mr. Delmar, so he says no. Mr. Stark turns on a few oil lamps and they continue working into the night.

~ ~ ~

Eventually Mr. Stark straightens up and stretches. There’s a few quiet cracks, at which Peter snorted, before looking outside, noticing that it’s already dark and the stars are out.”

“I should probably get back soon.”

(Tony follows Peter’s line of sight until he’s looking outside at the night sky with Peter. Tony looks back at Peter. His face is peaceful, slightly sleepy, and in the dim lighting Tony can see part of the night sky reflected in Peter’s eyes. He feels a surge of protectiveness, and affection..? Tony shakes the feeling off, and an idea suddenly comes to him.)

Peter followed Mr. Stark upstairs, and watched curiously as he pulled a large cloth off… a telescope. “Woah… can I, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark arranged the telescope, and fiddled with the knobs for a moment before stepping away and looking at Peter. “Go ahead, kid.”

Peter steps closer to the telescope and peered inside. “Woah…” Peter turned to Mr. Stark. “This is amazing Mr. Stark!” Peter peered back into the telescope, still in awe of the beautiful sight. He felt Mr. Stark lay his arm across Peter’s shoulders. The warmth of his arm was nice in the cold night.

(Peter stared up at him with complete awe and eagerness. That feeling from earlier comes back, ten fold. It tells him to protect Peter, to keep him safe, warm and happy. It compels Tony to step closer and lay his arm over Peter’s shoulders. He feels Peter lean slightly into the half side hug and -

oh.

Oh.

It’s love.

He loves Peter.

Tony loves Peter, as if he were his own son. The revelation rocks his world. When did this happen? Why now? What is he supposed to do?)

Unknown to Mr. Stark’s world shattering revelation, Peter shivered and sniffed in the cold air, before straightening up and fully leaning into Mr. Stark’s side. “‘ts cold.”

“Yea.” Mr. Stark exhaled. “Let’s get you home, Underoos.”

Peter nodded, and allowed Mr. Stark to lead him back inside and wrap one of his coats around Peter. He called for Happy, who came with the carriage. This time, before Peter gets in the carriage, Mr. Stark wraps him a hug, before entering the carriage with Peter. Sleepy and cold, Peter pulls Mr. Stark’s coat around himself tightly. The last thing he remembers was resting his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, the sensation of an arm wrapping around him keeping him warm and falling asleep.

~ ~ ~

When Peter woke up the next day, he felt awful. His head throbbed, this throat felt like sandpaper and he felt like he was freezing. Peter cracked an eye open, and painful bright light sears through his brain. Peter cries out in pain and shuts his eyes.

Hearing Peter, Director Harrington walked over. “Hey Peter, it’s time to get up.” When Peter didn’t move, Director Harrington frowned. (It was uncharacteristic of Peter not to be awake by now). He laid a hand over Peter’s head, and sweared under his breath when he felt Peter’s boiling forehead.

“What’s wrong with him?” MJ worriedly inquires from behind the Director. He quickly turned around and saw her and Ned.

“He’s sick. I think it’s just because he’s been pushing himself so hard this past week. Honestly, I was expecting this to happen days ago.” Director Harrington stood up. “He’ll be alright. He just needs rest. I’ll send a message to Mr. Stark telling him Peter won’t be able to attend for a few days.”

MJ nods. She knows what she has to do.

~ ~ ~

After MJ’s shift finished, she made her way to Mr. Stark’s mansion. Steeling her nerves, she firmly knocked on the door and waited. One minute, two minutes… just when MJ thought was wouldn’t get an answer, Mr. Stark opened the door.

He frowned. “Do I know you?”

“I’m here about Peter.”

“Come in.” Mr. Stark stepped out of the way, welcoming MJ inside. “Is he okay?”

MJ looked around the mansion. Part of her admires it; everything looked so elegant. Part of her critiqued it, wondering how it was built, and how the Stark family inherited their fortune.

“Peter’s sick. He’s been overworking himself, with everything he needs to do at the orphanage, with you and Mr. Delmar.” MJ explains. “He’s been going to sleep really late, and forcing himself to wake up before sunrise, and he’s on his feet pretty much the entire day.”

In a single moment, it looked as if Mr. Stark aged years. The wrinkles in his face stood out, and he looked worried. Extremely worried. MJ knew that Peter was attached to Mr. Stark (what science nerd wouldn’t be), but she didn’t expect that Mr. Stark would reciprocate the sentiment equally.

Mr. Stark took a moment, but eventually he composed himself. “Thank you for telling me. Are you headed back to the orphanage?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll give you a ride back.” Mr. Stark left to call Happy, completely missing MJ’s surprised expression.

Mr. Stark comes back a few minutes later, with his coat. “I’ll head back with you. It seems like I need to have a few words with Peter, about responsibility.”

MJ would’ve been worried, if Mr. Stark hadn’t sounded so… parental. Not for the first time, MJ wondered what exactly had they done, for Peter and Mr. Stark to feel so strongly for the other in such a short time. Instead, she just nodded.

“Why is he overworking himself?”

MJ’s mouth went dry, and she looked away at her feet. So Peter hadn’t told Mr. Stark then. “Our friend, Ned - he’s sick. Like really sick.” She quickly glanced at Mr. Stark. He looked contemplative. “Director Harrington is doing what he can, but the doctor visits and the medicine - it’s really expensive. Peter and I are paying for most of it.”

Although Mr. Stark didn’t say anything, MJ can practically hear him understanding. Peter always puts the needs of his loved ones above himself, and they both know it.

Happy arrived with the carriage in front. They climbed in and headed for the orphanage.

~ ~ ~

Peter’s awareness came back, and he felt the bed sink down on his left. At the edge of unconsciousness and in pain, Peter whimpers unintelligibly and tries to stick his head under the blanket.

Suddenly, there was a hand softly brushing through his hair and rubbing at his scalp. His headache began to ease up for the first time, and Peter cracked his eyes open. There was a blurry figure that looked awfully familiar sitting on his bed.

“Hey Underoos. How are you feeling?” Mr. Stark asked softly.

Peter closed his eyes, and tilted his head towards Mr. Stark’s hand, silently asking for him to continue.

Above him, Peter heard Mr. Stark chuckled. “Peter, it’s dinner time. You need to eat.”

With a groan Peter opened his eyes again, this time fully. It takes a moment, but his vision focuses. Mr. Stark helped Peter sit up, and then held out a bowl of soup with a spoon. Peter held his palms flat against the bowl, and let the steam rise against his face, trying to absorb the heat.

“Kiddo, you’re supposed to eat it.”

Peter grumbled, but picked up the spoon and began slowly eating.

Mr. Stark waited for Peter to finish half of his soup before speaking up, his tone gentle. “Peter, you were seriously overworking yourself.”

Peter swallowed his soup, and then responded, “Ned needs the money. He’s-”

“- sick, I know. MJ told me.” The surprise must’ve shown on his face because Mr. Stark elaborated. “She came to see me earlier today, to tell me that you were working yourself sick trying to pay for Ned’s medicine.”

Peter opened his mouth to defend his actions, but Mr. Stark interrupted him. “Underoos, why didn’t you tell me?” He chided, gently. “I would’ve helped you.”

“I - really?” Peter looked at Mr. Stark in hope.

Tony nodded. “Anything, Peter.”

Peter put the soup aside, leaned over and hugged Mr. Stark tightly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. You have no idea - it means so much to me.”

“Anything, Peter. Although you have to concentrate on getting better, and taking care of yourself. I don’t want to hear that you’re sick and refined to bed for days, geez. I nearly got a heart attack when I received the message this morning.”

Peter laughs weakly. Mr. Stark handed him back the soup, and sat with Peter as he finished it. When Peter’s done, Mr. Stark takes the bowl, and helps Peter crawl back under the covers. Peter rolled onto his side, facing Mr. Stark, and silently asking.

Above him, Peter heard Mr. Stark huff, in amusement. A moment later he felt Mr. Stark’s hand softly brushes through his hair and rubs at his scalp. Peter falls asleep to the sensation.

(When he’s sure Peter’s asleep, Tony leans over Peter, presses a kiss to his forehead and whispers “I love you.”)

The End.

25 notes · View notes

farfromtommy · 5 years ago

Text

world’s best surprise PART 2 // dad!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: part 2 bc lots of you asked for it. dad!tom makes me soft. hope you all enjoy reading this, I loved writing it :))))) I did not proof read/ edit it bc its 3am and I have to be up in 3 hrs and really need to sleep oops

A/N 2: THIS VERSION IS A REWRITE PLS ENJOY <3

summary: y/n goes into labor

warning: swearing, childbirth, fluff

word count: 3,330

requests are open!!!!!

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

PART 1

not my gif

Everyone you talked to and everything you read always said pregnancy was the most beautiful thing that could happen. That it was magical and amazing. You felt that way after the morning sickness had subsided and you felt the “pregnancy glow” everyone talked about. But now at 36 almost 37 weeks, you were absolutely over it.

It was a Friday night and instead of going out and enjoying the last few weeks before the baby arrived, you were on the couch eating ice cream and watching tv. You put your feet up on the coffee table and rested your bowl on your stomach looking for something to watch.

You started your maternity leave when you hit 32 weeks. Nobody told you how boring it was going to be just sitting around waiting for your baby to come. Most days were spent lounging around your new house.

You and Tom had finally moved into your new house and you spent most of your day unpacking and getting the nursery ready for the baby who could make an appearance any day. You finished organizing all of his clothes and basic necessities. Although your baby would be spending time in your bedroom for a little while, you still wanted his nursery to be perfect.

You laid back, still using the top of your stomach as a table, and began watching a movie that had piqued your interest. You were about 15 minutes into it when you heard keys jingle and the lock turning. You looked over just as Tom walked in, looking beat and exhausted. He had been trying to finish the last few things he needed to do before the baby arrived so he could take time off to care for you and his newborn.

He set his things down and kicked off his shoes. He walked over to where you were sitting and as soon as he saw you, everything negative in his body seemed to melt away.

“I want to take you out somewhere. You can pick the place. I just need to take you out somewhere and show you off.” Tom smiled at you as he leaned over the back of the couch. You twisted your head to look at him and saw the wide grin he had on his face.

“Is that so? Well you’re pulling me away from my ice cream and a movie, so it better be worth it.” You smiled back. He walked around to the front of the couch to stand in front of you. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips. He moved your ice cream bowl, and grabbed your hands to help you stand up. You moved your legs from the coffee table and placed them on the ground, allowing Tom to help you up.

You both sat there in the restaurant taking in the wonderful time you were both having. You were talking about everything and anything that came to your mind. Tom seemed fidgety and nervous towards the end of dessert. You finished your cheesecake and wiped the corner of your mouth.

You took a deep breath and leaned back in your chair, you were absolutely stuffed to the brim with the decadent meal you just had. There was honestly not that much room left in your stomach but you always managed to throw down some cheesecake. Tom took the bill and you two were heading out the door when he suggested taking a little walk to the park about a block from the restaurant.

“It’s a beautiful night, it would be a shame if we didn’t take advantage of it.” He grabbed your hand and led you towards the park. A few minutes later you made it to the park and saw a bench that overlooked the whole thing. Tom saw your gaze fall on the bench and chuckled to himself.

He sat down next to you and let one of his arms fall behind your shoulders and the other rested on your stomach. He moved it around until he felt what he was waiting for. The baby seemed to know whenever it was Tom touching your stomach and almost immediately would respond by kicking as hard as they possibly could.

“I don’t think that’s ever going to get old.” He said, looking at your bump lovingly. You rested your head on his shoulder and just watched the interaction he was having with your baby.

“Seeing how excited you get when they kick makes the tiny feet in my ribs worth it.” You said to him. He snorted and pressed a kiss to your hairline. He shifted on the bench a little, allowing you to lean into his body more. As sneakily as he could, Tom reached into the pocket of the jean jacket he was wearing and pulled out what he had been holding onto all night.

He kept it closed in his fist and moved it out in front of you. He kissed your cheek to get your attention and moved it closer to you. You turned over his fist and he opened up his fingers to reveal a diamond ring resting in his palm. A gasp left your mouth and you turned around and looked him in the eye.

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to say to you when I propose for years, probably since we got together. I never want to leave your side for as long as I’m alive. I look at you and all I can think about is the family we’re about to start and how badly I want to keep making babies with you. This is the life I’ve dreamed of having, and it’s not a dream anymore. I love you so much, Y/N. I want to marry the shit out of you. So, will you marry me?” He said in a quiet voice, his eyes darting across your face.

The only word you managed to get out was ‘Yes’ before the tears fell down your face and you wrapped your arms around Tom. You felt him sigh a breath of relief and embraced you as close as he could. You sobbed into his shoulders as he placed kisses into your neck. He pulled back and grabbed your left hand so he could slide the ring onto your finger. The second it was on he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

When you got home neither of you were ready to turn in for the night, opting to get comfortable on the couch. You and Tom were cuddled up on the couch watching some action movie when you both started to fall asleep. Tessa was sitting at the other end of the couch, loving the company.

He had you wrapped in his arms and laid between his legs with your back against his chest, your hands resting on your bump, you used his biceps as a pillow and just let your eyes close. You loved falling asleep wrapped in his arms, it’s where you felt safest.

You were woken up from your deep slumber by a sharp pain radiating from your stomach. Your doctor said it was normal to feel cramping, as your body was getting ready for birth, but this was different. It was worse than anything you had felt. Refusing to let the panic set in, you just sat there trying to calm down.

You stayed awake for a little bit, wanting to see if it happened again. You and Tom were still tangled on the couch and Tessa still asleep at your feet. You gasped quietly as you felt another sharp pain in the same spot about 10 minutes later, waking up Tessa in the process. She looked at you and started whining. You shushed her as you felt Tom stir from behind you.

“Tess shh ‘m tryin’ to sleep.” Tom mumbled from behind you and shifted a little, trying to go back to sleep. He tightened his grip on your body as he started to fall asleep.

“Tom, s-something’s wrong. I’m h-having these pains in my stomach. I haven’t felt this b-before.” You stuttered out. Tom’s eyes shot open and he saw the panic spread across your face. He helped you sit up and kneeled in front of you.

“Let’s just try and stay calm, yeah? Doctor said to get you in a tub with warm water to relax your body. Wanna try that before we call her?” He said in a low voice, trying to keep you calm. You nodded frantically before he stood up and helped you to the master bathroom.

He helped you out of your clothes and into the tub. You sat there for a while, letting the warm water wrap around your body. Tom sat there next to you, running his hand up and down your back to help you relax. He whispered words of encouragement as you gripped the sides of the tub.

After about 20 minutes in the tub you hadn’t felt any pains again. You drained the tub and with Tom’s help you started to stand up. When you were out of the tub and wrapped in your fluffy robe, you felt a huge amount of pressure in your stomach drop, and then a gush of liquid come out from between your legs. You gasped and grabbed the nearest surface to try and steady yourself. Tom looked over to you in panic and just stood there, waiting for you to say something.

“I think that was my water, we should probably go to the hospital.” You squeaked and looked up at Tom. He just stared at you with wide eyes until he processed what you had said.

You were waiting in the living room as Tom frantically ran around your house, trying to get everything you had gotten ready to take to the hospital. The carseat was installed last week, your bags were in the trunk, Tom’s mom was on her way to pick up Tessa and take her back to her house, and your doctor had been called and was going to meet you at the hospital. You were standing by the door with your hand on the wall, trying to steady yourself as your contractions started to come in.

“Tom can we PLEASE go, we need to go!” You said to him as you saw his whip down the stairs and into the living room. “Yes, love! Let’s go, I have everything.” He said as he ran to the door. He helped you into the car and made sure you were as comfortable as you could be and you made your way to the hospital in record time. You were in your hospital room getting checked by your doctor within 30 minutes of your water breaking.

The epidural was working wonders after what felt like the millionth hour of being in labor. Only at 6 centimeters dilated, you and Tom were in for a treat for the next couple of hours. He had asked if the lights could be dimmed in your room so you could try and relax as much as possible. His hands were pressing into your lower back as you laid on your side to try and release some of the tension you were holding there.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Tom. What’s going on in that head of yours?” You whispered, turning your head to look behind you.

“‘m sorry lovey. I’m feeling a bit scared and overwhelmed but this is about you and the little one, so don’t worry about me.” He spoke truthfully. You motioned for him to help you turn to your other side. He quickly stood and maneuvered your body to a new position. He sat in his chair again and you placed your hand against his cheek. He immediately leaned into your touch and shut his eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared right now, Tommy. I’m terrified, if I’m being honest. But we’re going to meet our baby today, just try and think about how excited we’ve been. Everything is going to be okay.” He smiled at your words. You always knew how to talk him down when he was feeling anxious about something.

“We’re about to become parents. How crazy is that?” You chuckled. He opened his eyes and let a grin take over his face.

“The craziest.” He whispered, moving closer to you. He planted kisses all over your face and hugged you as best

“One more push Y/N and they’ll be out!” The doctor said as you started to push again. A few seconds later you felt an immense amount of pressure shoot out of your body and as you looked down you saw your baby in the hands of your doctor. They were placed onto your bare chest as they wailed out.

You were there in disbelief as your baby was just placed onto your chest. You couldn’t believe They were here. They were being cleaned up as you just stared in wonder. Not even realizing you were crying, Tom wiped more tears off your face and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Go ahead and check and see what it is.” A nurse said as they continued to wipe the baby down. You looked at Tom as you looked to see what gender your baby is.

“It’s a boy! Tommy, we have a son.” You cried out, tears still streaming down your face.

“He’s perfect Y/N, oh my god. Just absolutely perfect.” Tom said with amazement in his eyes. You looked at the way he admired his son and how nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

“We gotta have more Tom, we have to.” You sobbed out, running your hands along your son’s body. All the nurses and your doctor laughed at what you said. The nurse cleaning him up said it’s not the first thing mom’s say after going through labor. Tom just agreed with you and kept wiping the tears off your face.

You three were the only people in the world. It was perfect. Tom cut the umbilical cord and just watched in pure shock as the nurses did all his measurements and wrapped him in a blanket. They handed him to Tom and you could see how tense he was as they placed your son into his arms, but almost immediately relaxed.

He walked over to your bed and sat on the edge of it. You moved over as much as you could and watched your son in the arms of your fiancé. You ran your finger along his cheek and couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Hey mate, happy birthday.” Tom whispered when your son opened his eyes. You looked up at Tom and saw the tears forming on his lash line. Tom brought him closer to his face and placed his forehead against the baby’s. It took everything in you to not lose your shit.

“My goodness, Y/N. He is so beautiful.” Nikki whispered as she held her grandson. Dom was standing right behind her looking at the new addition.

“He looks a bit like Tom did, don’t he?” Dom asked. All Nikki could do was nod and continue staring at him. Tom had left the room to get his brothers and Harrison from the waiting room so they could have their introduction.

Tom knocked on the door lightly before pushing it open with a herd of people behind him. Harrison was the first to lay his eyes on the baby and all the air seemed to leave his body. Tom’s brothers all walked in and had the same reaction to seeing their nephew.

“Bloody hell, he looks exactly like Tom.” Sam managed to get out, moving to get a proper look at him. Nikki turned a bit to move to the center of the group of the boys. Harrison was the first to reach out to hold him. He looked up to you to make sure it was okay and after you gave him a nod, he carefully took the baby.

“I’m going to implode if you don’t tell us what his name is already.” Harry looked up at you and Tom waiting for one of you to say something. You looked over at Tom motioned for him to get on with it. He walked over to Harrison and rubbed his hand along the top of the baby’s head.

“This is Oliver Thomas Holland.” Tom announced to the room. You smiled as everyone looked over at him. Oliver began to fuss a little bit in Harrison’s arms and he started to panic, looking to Tom for help. Tom laughed at his friend not knowing what to do with the squirming baby.

“He’s probably hungry. I’ll take him, just hand me that blanket. You guys can stay in here, if you want.” You stretched your arms out and had the baby passed to you. Adjusting your hospital gown, the baby and the blanket, you managed to get Oliver eating without flashing anyone.

Everyone found a spot in the room and just started conversations with each other. Tom looked under the blanket a couple times just to admire the love of his life feeding his son. Nikki had asked about the IV in your left hand and you lifted it up to show her, forgetting about the extra piece of jewelry you had on your finger.

“Is that an engagement ring?!” She slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she may have been a little too loud. Everyone stopped and looked at you. You sheepishly smiled and looked over at Tom.

Harry walked over to Tom and slapped a hand on his back, congratulating him. Of course he had told Sam, Harry, and Harrison that he was planning on proposing. Nikki started crying and continued looking at your ring. She hugged you as best as she could with the baby in your arms.

Adjusting to life as parents wasn’t easy. Ollie had decided against sleeping and was up every 2 hours screaming, needing attention from his parents. You wouldn’t trade it for anything, though. The middle of the night feedings and diaper changes made the time you spent with him during the day worth it.

Watching your son start to get a grasp on life and exploring this new world he was in was amazing. Most of your day was spent on the couch with your little one in your arms, or watching Tom interact with him. Tom was super excited when the labor and delivery nurses had encouraged him to continue doing skin to skin at home.

Breaking the news to Tom’s fans about the new member of your family was almost as scary as him announcing he was dating you. Tom’s instagram feed was filled with pictures of you, so the fans were very aware of your relationship. You had gone to all his premieres and were always spotted in public with him. Luckily, you managed to avoid the public finding out about your pregnancy.

Tom had agreed with you about keeping Ollie out of the public eye, not wanting his pictures being exploited. You agreed to one instagram post. Tom’s fans were so important to him, and he wanted to include them in the excitement of having a new addition.

He had Harry come over to your house to take a few pictures. The one you had approved for instagram was of you, Tom and Ollie on the couch. You held Ollie close to your chest, turning his head so it wasn’t visible. Tessa was sitting right next to you looking into the camera and Tom next to Tessa, looking over at you and Ollie.

Harry had found a shirt for Tessa online that said ‘World’s Best Big Sister’ and decided it was very appropriate for the occasion. Tom posted the photo to his instagram with the caption --

Tessa is very excited to tell the world about her baby brother. Y/N and I welcomed a baby boy into our lives a few weeks ago. We’re both so overwhelmed with love and joy and are loving this new chapter of our lives. I will be taking time off from filming to be with my son and fiancée, but you will see some more from me in the not so distant future. Thank you everyone for your love and support. #BabyHolland

---

For everyone who wanted a part 2!!!

@ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @crazy12cinemas @xoluvx @afictionaladventure16 @fab-notfat @tomscuddle

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rosyredlipstick · 5 years ago

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Workplace Interactions

No one had ever claimed the gig was an easy one, but gods, sometimes the job took more than he had to offer.

He could handle the kidnappings--either as vengeance or as bait for Katie or Travis--he could handle the wounds that ached even after his quick healing took care of them, he could handle the long, unforgiven hours or even more unforgiving New Yorkers who had been swayed by The Daily Beast. That was all apart of the gig, and he was lucky enough to have an incredible support system to know exactly what he was feeling and how to help in the best ways possible.

But this? This he could decidedly Not Handle.

“Fuck,” Mitchell groaned from his place on the alley ground. Connor’s heart lept in alarm, even as he slammed the would-be mugger into the wall, just hard enough knock him out. Mitchell spat onto the gravel. “Jesus.”

Connor had been leaving for a pizza run when Mitchell--classmate, neighbor, and all-around Love of Connor’s Life--had stepped out at the same time, on his way to work which, of course, Connor had Totally Not Perfectly Timed. They walked the few perfect blocks together, lightly teasing each other and perhaps even Flirting (??) when Mitchell’s turn came up (a left turn right after the nail salon, where he’d walk another three blocks to his sister’s salon) and he waved to Connor and set off into the night, putting his headphones in.

And, just out of the corner of his eye, Connor had watched a tall man in dark clothing peel off the wall, staring directly at Mitchell, and set off.

Connor finished webbing the dude up to the nearest dumpster, making a note to himself to call in a citizen’s tip, when Mitchell got to his feet, unsteady. Connor went tense, throwing himself further down the alley in a hidden nook. He needed to get on the roof--out of sight where he wouldn’t be tempted to spill everything to Mitchell’s waiting gaze, where he could make sure those assholes stayed down, where he could make sure Mitchell got home safe and stayed that way without Connor running his mouth.

He began crawling up the wall, hidden by the shadows, but froze as Mitchell stumbled down the alley, further into it rather than out in the street.

“Wait!” Mitchell yelled after him, looking around frantically. “Please, wait!”

And, gods, Connor wasn’t ever good at saying no him. Whether that was Mitchell giving him a sheepish look and asking if he could borrow a pen or

Or whatever this was shaping up to be--Connor was helpless. The Avengers would be ashamed.

Connor shot a web up to the roof awning and used it to slowly lower himself down until he was eye length with Mitchell, who startled back when he finally noticed Connor. He took a hesitant step forward to where Connor hung, upside down.

“You’ve got a knack for saving people,” Mitchell said, breathless. “I just - I just wanted to say thank you. For saving me.”

Connor dipped his head. He couldn’t risk saying anything--Mitchell was observant on a bad day, basically impossible to faze or trick on a good one--so this would have to be good enough. Let Mitchell thank him, Connor would nod his head, swing away and frantically send a well-timed phone call just “checking-in” with his friend. He just had to make it through this moment.

This moment--where Mitchell was soaking wet from rainwater and covered in the dirt and grime of the alley, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I owe you,” Mitchell said, his voice soft.

Connor scoffed and tilted his head, the best he could do to convey, Not really.

Also, god, Mitchell had a bright red spot on his cheek--he was going to bruise. Those assholes hit him. An angry burned in his chest--he should have done so much more than just web them up on the street for the police, he should have done exactly what they were -

His thoughts screeched to a halt and Mitchell took another step closer, now within arms length. He was giving Connor a searching look like he was waiting for something, some sign. Connor was holding his breath as Mitchell’s hands slowly rose to come up to Connor's neck, both of their breath catching. Connor was frozen as Mitchell's fingers shifted just slightly enough to dip under the edge of his mask. He paused for a long moment, staring directly at Connor through the mask, asking. Connor didn't move away.

Mitchell gently and so extremely slowly began to peel back his mask. Connor could hear Travis screaming in his head about secret identities. Connor could feel Mitchell’s fingers brushing against his throat.

Connor had no idea what Mitchell was doing--if he was going to toss Connor's mask aside and gasp, nod like everything made sense, tell everyone they knew-

No. He wouldn't do that. Connor had no idea what Mitchell was doing, but he knew Mitchell was kind.

Mitchell stopped suddenly from where he was pulling the mask away--the top of Connor's nose was barely exposed. Mitchell's hands moved, now cupping his upside-down face with his fingers on Connor's chin, his palms on his cheeks. He leaned in so his breath washes over Connor’s exposed lips.

Oh my gods.

Mitchell waited a moment, as if Connor was going to suddenly pull away, and then he kissed him.

His lips pressed against Connor’s with the lightest of pressure, tilting his head to the right, both of his hands holding Connor’s face with something like reverence. Chaste, or something close to it--Mitchell pulled away once just slightly before coming back for another.

And Connor was absolutely fucking frozen.

Mitchell pulled away a second time and Connor opened his eyes--he had apparently closed his eyes at some point. He blinked at him through the mask. Mitchell's face was flushed pink, his pupils wide.

"Thank you," he whispered, rubbing his finger over Connors’s bottom lip. "For saving me."

Connor just nodded stupidly. Even if he wasn't almost sure Mitchell would somewhat recognize his voice as familiar, every single word he'd ever learned was suddenly smoke in his grip. Mitchell took a small step back, looking up at him where Connor was still stupidly dangling.

“Get home safe, okay?” He said, his voice low. His lips pulled into a small smile, “It’s a dangerous city.”

Connor slowly nodded. He couldn’t do anything else.

“See you around, Spidey.” Mitchell shot him one more look and tightened his jacket around his waist before setting off for the end of the alley. Connor had to resist the urge to yell after him.

What the fuck had just happened?

When Connor gets back to the apartment:

Katie, clinging to the wall with ease as she scrolled through her phone: Anything good out there? Where’s the pizza?

Connor: just fucking chokes

When Mitchell walks into work half an hour late with a face injury:

Mitchell: I almost got mugged. Oh, and I kissed spiderman haha.

Sebastian: just fucking chokes

Tragic backstory time: The three of them were kidnapped bc ofc. Katie & Connor were given the same rounds of tests (see how gender reacts ??) while Travis was pumped full of something completely different. Cut to months after their daring escape: Katie is Spider-Woman, Connor is Spider-Man, Travis is a much less tragic Deadpool. The Avengers, lead by Iron Woman Annabeth Chase and Captain America Jason Grace, are finding the new batch of heroes down in Queens very interesting.

#conchell #connor stoll #mitchell #superhero au #workplace interactions #my fic #rosy writes

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jjkfire · 5 years ago

Text

Preydator

Reader x Jungkook // shifter!AU, raccoon!jk // 6k words

Summary: Neither of you are quite the predator the two of you claim to be. + “I wonder what the people would say if they saw big mean lion predator tending to my wound right now.” raccoon!jk & (surprise (; hehe)!reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Okay I know scientifically raccoons aren’t exactly preys bc they eat rodents and frogs and etc. but… for the purpose of this fic, they are classified as preys. Predators in this au refers to… tertiary consumers, like top trophic level dudes. Also, football = soccer. Sorry, calling it soccer is very awkward for me!

You’re no stranger to late nights at the library. In fact, you love them. Your brain just works better at 1 am than it does at 1 pm. You also like it when there’s far fewer people in the quiet section of the library. The scent of all the others in the room can get a little too overwhelming for someone like you so, you’re truly at your happiest when there’s only a handful of people around.

Most people don’t like to stay at the library past 2 am because that’s when the campus buses stop running but you don’t really mind. Walking home at 3 in the morning after a long study session when the streets are eerily quiet, doesn’t faze you at all. It’s calm, peaceful and it makes you feel at ease. Your walks are usually uneventful and that’s probably a good thing. You have a small handheld can of pepper spray just in case of anything but in all your semesters here, you’ve only had to use it once and that had been a while ago, but perhaps you spoke to soon because tonight you find yourself gripping that small can in your hand, heart thumping loudly against your chest.

There’s the sound of a loud tortured squeal and you can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. You pick up your pace attempting to get away from the source, but you don’t really know where to go. You know the sound is coming from a hurt animal and just that thought alone makes you sweat, because it probably means that a predator shifter that’s out of his or her senses is on the loose. Sure you should try to help whatever it is that’s making that noise but you reconsider the fact that you are but a tiny prey shifter and that if you do stop to help, you’ll probably be the next victim.

The squeals seem to echo no matter how far you walk, in fact they get louder and you start to run, your hand fumbling for the can of pepper spray in your pocket. You stumble, the loud clang of metal ringing through the night as you trip over a misplaced manhole cover. You whine, groaning in pain when you end up on the floor. The squeals are more urgent now, as if it was warning you of what’s to come and god, you shut your eyes, hoping that whatever feral predator that’s lurking will hopefully end your life quick, unlike its previous victim that’s still screaming in pain.

You’re waiting and waiting and waiting but the fatal bite to your neck never comes. You can still hear the squeals, less urgent this time, almost like there’s no effort in them. Slowly, you peel your eyes open, dusting off the dirt on your knees after you had taken a quick look around to make sure you were safe. You let out a whimper when you press at your injured toe. Surely it was going to bruise, you sigh, mumbling to yourself. At that sound, you hear the loud squeals again, accompanied with the sound of water being sloshed about. Odd.

Just up ahead, you see a hole in the ground, presumably where the manhole cover you just tripped over was meant to go. You inch towards it slowly, carefully, unsure if it was just a trap. If you were being honest, all of this seemed eerily like the opening of a horror movie. Despite your gut telling you to just take off and run, you risk a peek down the hole in front of you and in there you see the source of all your panic tonight, a poor little raccoon, limping around and squealing as it peered up at you.

“You poor baby,” You frown, as you watch the raccoon try to reach for the metal rungs on the side of the wall, attempting to climb up towards you. “Just wait down there. I’ll come get you!”

You take one last look around you, ensuring that the injured raccoon wasn’t being used to bait you because yes, you’re that paranoid. You remove your backpack and slowly make your way down into the sewer, nose wrinkling at the awful stench. When you reach the bottom, the raccoon stands aside timidly as if it was afraid of you and you offer it your hand, to show that you meant no harm.

“I’m no predator, don’t worry,” You laugh as it comes up to sniff you. “Let’s get you home, huh?” You murmur as you attempt to pick it up, making sure you avoid the large gash you see on its side.

“You still want these?” You ask, pointing to the clothes that are drenched in sewer water and it shakes its head no. Thank god. You didn’t want to touch it in the first place. With that, you attempt to climb up the metal rungs with just one available hand. It’s a bit of a struggle and you can tell that the little raccoon is attempting to muffle its pained squeals, burying its head in your shirt.

When you finally get back to ground level, you see that the gash the raccoon has is much worse than you had thought. It seems weak, tired, and when you ask if it could point you the way of its house, it only blinked at you. You can see the poor animal shivering in the light breeze, whimpering as it attempted to limp closer to you. You guess you had no choice but to bring it home with you.

When you finally reach your studio apartment, you quickly got a towel, helping the raccoon to dry off as best as you could without touching the wound.

“So… now what?” You ask out loud but you’re mainly talking to yourself because you know the animal has no capacity to answer you. “I think this will be easier to treat in your human form,” You point at his wound. “What’s your trigger?” You question.

Shifters mostly stay in their human form and only turn into their animal form when they experience any one of their specific triggers. For some it’s when they get angry, a very common trigger for large predators. For some, it’s when they’re hurt, for others it’s when they feel threatened and for the raccoon that you’ve just rescued, it’s apparently food because it’s limping towards your fridge, trying to nudge the door open.

“Food?” You ask as you catch up with it. “Okay, but first we gotta clean your hands,” You smile, as you bring the bottle of hand sanitizer down from the counter to sanitize its tiny little hands. An audible coo leaves your lips as you watch it rub its small palms together. Raccoons, you sigh lovingly. How could anyone hate them?

You open the door to your fridge, humming as you look at the contents of it, or perhaps lack of it.

“Sandwich?” You ask. All you had in your fridge was one half of the grilled cheese sandwich you had made last night. “I mean that’s all I have anyway, so the answer is going to have to be yes,” You chuckle as you pop it into the microwave.

“Just wait here,” You say as you move towards your closet to grab another towel. A cleaner and much larger one because you know once the raccoon shifted back, it was going to be stark naked and you didn’t want any… surprises. The microwave dings, and you hear the raccoon let out excited squeals, attempting to climb up onto the counter despite its injury.

You laugh, bringing the plate down to the floor before you watched it grab the sandwich with its little hands. The raccoon was absolutely adorable, munching on its sandwich and you’ll admit you’re quite a fan of the animal, if it wasn’t already evident from the numerous raccoon plushies sat on your bed. It’s a guilty pleasure but you often watch cute raccoon videos in your free time. Raccoons just have those cute tiny hands and that adorable little face and some of them are so chubby that all you wanted to do was pick them up and cuddle them. You’re sort of lost in your own thoughts about raccoons that it takes the tugging of the towel to bring you back to earth. When you look back down, you realise that in those few minutes your new raccoon buddy has finished the sandwich, which meant it was going to shift back soon. It’s probably why it had pulled at that towel with such urgency. It doesn’t get too far, just out of your small little kitchen before you hear a loud thump and a subsequent groan.

You quickly move towards the sink to wash the plate, trying to pretend like this was totally normal. The reality of the situation suddenly hit you like an oncoming train and so you continue pretending that your heart isn’t beating at 1000 miles per minute, that you didn’t have a complete stranger in your house and maybe you realize how naïve and stupid you are now that there’s a full grown human that you don’t know in your apartment. What’s worse is that it’s a man and you know that because that voice is way too deep for it to be a woman’s and—

“Hello.”

“Umm, hi,” You mumble, looking up from the plate that you have just set aside to see a half-naked man staring back at you. It takes you a second, maybe two before you go, oh because you’ve got the campus’ prized fuckboy, Jeon Jungkook, in your apartment... wearing nothing but a towel on his hips.

“Oh my god,” He shakes his head. “I just can’t believe it’s actually you. I mean I sort of realized in the sewer, but I digress. It’s you! Y/N the meme girl!” He laughs. “You know the uhh that—” He stops his sentence halfway, drop-kicking the air in front of him. “—that girl.”

“Yes,” You sigh. “I’m that girl. All thanks to you, Jeon Jungkook the professional meme maker.”

“I just edited funny text on the video,” He shrugs. “It’s basically all you… and Choi Junho of course. That sucker,” He laughs.

God, if there was one person you didn’t want the raccoon to be, it would be Jungkook. Scratch that, there’s two people you didn’t want it to be and one of them is Jungkook and the other would be Choi Junho, but you are well aware that Junho is no raccoon.

Junho is a beloved player on the college basketball team. People worship the ground he walks on and everyone, and really everyone loves him. He’s the reason your college’s basketball team has been doing so well. Back in freshman year, like everyone else, you liked him too. When you found out you were sharing a discussion section of one of your classes with him, you were ecstatic. You just wanted to be able to say ‘Oh yeah Junho and I are in the same discussion section. He’s pretty nice.’ at parties to make others envious and not really anything more than that. You never expected to know him any more than the usual classmate whom you would talk to in class and then smile politely at if you were to bump into each other in public, and for a long time, it was just that.

Then, one night at some Halloween house party, you bumped into him while you were pouring yourself a drink. He seemed sober for the most part and so were you. A few glasses later however, neither of you were sober and in some dark corner of the house, he had his tongue down your throat, his hands roaming all over your body. He kept asking if you wanted to go upstairs and for a moment you felt... good, because look at you, you were just seconds away from sleeping with arguably the most popular guy on campus. Yet, something about it didn’t sit right with you. Maybe it was the contents of your stomach that was threatening to come out any second now. So, you said no, respectfully, and told him you were comfortable right there. Honestly, you thought after that he would move on to someone else, his next prey or whatever, but he hung around, asked if you wanted to head back to his place, asked if he could walk you home, asked if you wanted to reconsider going upstairs. You got away from him somehow, you couldn’t remember how but you do remember dreading the fact that you would have to see him in discussion after the weekend.

You hoped that it had been the alcohol that made Junho so… creepy, that perhaps he would have forgotten everything and gone back to just knowing you as that person in his discussion section, but come Monday, you realised he had no intention of forgetting. He flirted with you shamelessly, pressuring you to go out on a date with him, always repeating himself even when you had respectfully declined, numerous times. Eventually, hes seemed to get the hint and instead, he would ask to meet at the library on the pretext of getting some work done, but then halfway through studying you could feel his hand on your knee. Although you guessed that could be a friendly gesture, it made you uncomfortable and so you would always find an excuse to leave.

The worst part of all of it though was the fact that he didn’t feel guilty or bad or any sort whenever he saw how uncomfortable he made you. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, like it was some sick game for him. He would text you all the time, find ways to sit next to you in lecture and discussion, show up at parties you were at, tried to befriend your friends. You felt like you couldn’t really tell anyone about the situation because Junho was well, Junho. He was popular, well-liked and if you were to say that you felt like he was borderline stalking you, you would be labelled as pretentious or an attention seeker.

You felt helpless. There was nothing you could do, because his aura in general scared you. He was a predator. You knew just from his scent. Predator shifters are rare, they are revered and Junho was rather proud he was one. He was a panther and when he was toying with you, you could see it in his expression, the mischievousness and power that he held. Whenever you were near him, you felt like you were in danger. You felt like if you said no one more time, he would just find ways to make you say yes. So, you tried your best to isolate yourself and you tried to find excuses so you could attend a different discussion section. You even changed your phone number. You did everything you could to get away from him. It did nothing to deter him though and he even bothered you well through winter break and into the following semester.

Then came the fateful day. Valentine’s Day. He had stopped you in the middle of the quad, with a box of chocolates in hand, handing it to you so everyone could see, so you were under pressure to accept. You didn’t want to. You knew that if you did, he would get the wrong idea and so you said no thank you, soft and quiet so nobody but him could hear. He insisted and put the box into your hand with that sick, sick smile on his lips. Everyone was cooing, smiling and you didn’t want that. You didn’t like it. You didn’t like that all eyes were on you, all the attention was on you and most of all you didn’t like the way he was looking at you like he had won, that you were his prey for the taking now. You wanted to run, your prey instincts told you to, but you know doing that meant that he would still be the winner so, you did what you thought was best. You took a deep breath, stretching your hand out, you dropped the box of chocolates and kicked it as high and as far as you could. You could hear gasps of horror, the look of surprise on everyone’s face and in the commotion of it all, you took your chance to escape. You were still shaking even when you went to bed that night.

The aftermath of it all was uncontrollable. There were so many videos of it online, from numerous angles. It was starting to get out of hand and you were receiving messages from strangers, half of them cussing you out, wishing you misfortune and the other half congratulating you on your— in their words— big dick energy. It was absolute chaos but you had achieved what you wanted and Junho was nowhere to be seen… until of course Jungkook came into the picture.

See, it was all fine and dandy until the ever wonderful Jeon Jungkook decided to produce numerous meme edits of the incident. They had titles like me @ my responsibilities and me @ my money, with accompanying music and video effects. What was a video that was popular campus wide soon became a viral video that had spread all across the world. Everyone and really, everyone recognized you as the girl who drop-kicked some loser’s gift… which meant now everyone recognized Junho as the loser who got his gift drop-kicked.

There was a shift of attitude on campus and suddenly people either feared you or wanted to be your friend. You were rumoured to be either a poisonous prey, or the more popular theory, some predator, perhaps a lion. That could not be any further from the truth, but in any case, you liked that. It meant that people feared you so, you played into that belief, made people around you think that you were in fact a predator when you were a prey. Lion shifters were extremely rare, the rarest of the rare and so you achieved that stay away from her status that you could have previously only dreamed of. You bought some predator scent spray online and you had the resting bitch face to match too and so that’s how sophomore year went for you. Good, quiet. People admired you from afar, kept their distance. It was nice and you didn’t have to fear walking around campus at night because you knew that people knew not to come near you. All except one, of course.

Choi Junho was not one to back down and so he came up to you when you were on your routine walk home from the library, alone and vulnerable. First, he appeared apologetic, head bowed down, shifting his weight from one feet to another, but the next second, he had you pinned against the wall, hand on your throat.

“You poor little thing,” He smirked. “You may have everyone fooled but oh, not me.”

His grip on your throat tightened and you could see it, his eyes beginning to change, that familiar feral glow beginning to show.

“I knew you liked playing games. You like being hunted, don’t you?” He licked the corners of his lips. “You want me to chase you, you want to feel powerful, but in the end you want me to put you in your place, don’t you?”

You struggled against him, gasping, your hand trying to loosen the grip he has around your neck.

“I love it when you look like this,” He grinned, wiping away your tears with his free hand. “All desperate and weak for me.”

Your fingers finally closed around the can in your pocket and with the little strength you had left, you sprayed it in his eyes, hoping to god that it actually works. The boy in front of you cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground as he wiped his eyes. You took the opportunity to kick him right in the gonads, a few times too many. People like him should never be allowed to reproduce. You told yourself it was in self-defence, but you knew it was mostly for revenge. That was the last time he bothered you. You never tried to report the whole incident. You had no proof anyway so, you continue to pretend like it was all a dream, or rather a nightmare. Junho’s still the campus’ beloved basketball star and you’re only one of the many girls he had tried to get with. You wonder if there are other girls like you out there, girls who had to suffer under his hands. That’s a thought you keep locked far, far away.

“Seems like I uhh, brought up some bad memories,” Jungkook mumbles when he notices the grimace on your face. You realize you’ve been silent for way too long and so you shake yourself out of it, bringing your attention back to the boy in front of you.

“Something like that I guess…” You murmur. “Anyway, so, you umm want to get cleaned up? I have some oversized shirts and sweatpants that you might fit. Might.”

“As long as they’re not Junho’s,” He jokes and all that garners out of you is a sneer.

“They’re mine,” You mumble, walking towards your closet to pull out some clothes. “Not fashionable in the least, but it’s better than walking out there naked.”

“Uhh debatable but okay, fine, true,” He nods as he looks to see if the clothes would fit. “Thanks… for the clothes and for umm everything, really. I’m not sure how long I would have been stuck down there... and with the gash and all, it could’ve ended badly for me.” He points to the cut on his chest which is considerably less menacing than when it took up almost half his body when he was in his animal form.

“It’s no big deal,” You mumble. “And yeah we’ll get that wound sorted out after you shower. Make sure to clean the area when you’re in there.”

“Yes ma’am,” He salutes, before you point him in the direction of your bathroom.

This surely wasn’t the way you imagined meeting the guy who propelled you to meme stardom. You expected it to be more hostile but then again, he’s injured and you can’t beat someone when they’re down can you? But, perhaps what surprised you more than anything was the fact that he was your kin, a prey like you and also, a liar.

See, Jungkook is a forward on the football team, a college athlete and that meant two things. One, he is a predator and two, he’s well-liked. Though the latter is unfortunately an undeniable truth, the first one however, considering what you’ve seen tonight is definitely false. This is important because only predators are allowed to be athletes and a major perk of being an athlete is the scholarship that comes along with it. No matter how good prey shifters are at a certain sport, they would never get to be an athlete and would instead have to compete for academic scholarships which are extremely hard to obtain. So the big question here is how did that fluffy little raccoon book his spot on the football team?

You guess he looks the part of a predator shifter, with a lean body and a fair amount of muscle mass… (not that you were looking at his body at all that is). Also, the fact that he doesn’t cower away from social interaction helped with the predator persona as most prey shifters tend to keep to themselves. Maybe you ought to take a pointer or two from him.

To you, it’s odd that he’s on the football team. He wasn’t an exceptional athlete as per se, in fact if you remember correctly, he spends most matches on the bench. Though you’d argue that even so, he seemed to be more popular than the guys who usually made it onto the first team.

He’s known on campus for being that guy, you know that 10/10 boyfriend guy. He’s the kind of guy you’d take home to your parents because you know they’ll love him, but he’s also the kind of guy that would fuck your brains out... but also the kind of guy that would take you on cute little dates. Yeah, you know, that guy. You’re not sure why you know all of this. Probably because in your first year at the dorms, those around you would not shut up about him, ever. From what you know, he got around but was always clear that he never wanted anything more. He wasn’t the kind of guy to forget names or lead someone on. He was always respectful. From the short flings he had, they always seemed to end... well, on mutual terms and the girls never had anything bad to say other than that he just wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. Rather, a wholesome fuckboy, if one ever existed.

You could definitely see it. He’s nice, charismatic, that much you deduce as he attempts to make small talk with you now that he’s done with his shower, but you realize he is also definitely trying to avoid getting his wound tended to. You’re not sure if it’s because he wanted to be half naked just a little while longer to garner a reaction out of you or if he was genuinely afraid of the pain that comes with applying antiseptic cream to a raw wound.

“Look, if you don’t want to do it, it’s fine,” You sigh, from where you’re seated on your bed. “I’m not your mother, you can do whatever you want.”

“No, I know it has to happen, but it… it stings,” He frowns, joining you. “Cleaning the area with water was already painful enough.”

“Well, just say whenever you’re ready then,” You sigh, turning away from him to turn on the TV.

“Okay, fine, just do it now,” He mumbles. “But— but be… gentle.”

You almost laugh at the way he looks in front of you right now, all timid and afraid. It was a huge contrast to how he appeared on the banners around school, all proud in his football jersey with his arms folded across his chest.

He winces every so often as you apply the cream to his wound, soft whimpers leaving his lips. You’re trying your best to be delicate, and you think you’re doing quite a fine job because halfway through when you look up at the boy, he’s smiling.

“I wonder what the people would say if they saw big, mean, lion predator tending to my wound right now uwu,” He coos, when your eyes finally meet his.

“Did you actually just say uwu out loud?” You gawk, pulling your focus away from his wound. “You know it’s an emoticon right?”

“Yes, but it’s also a feeling. See, uwu,” He coos again, his voice pitched higher. “It’s a feeling,” He reaffirms, grinning, as if what he had just said made perfect sense.

“Maybe I’ll just stick this cotton bud into your wound, and we’ll see how uwu you’re feeling.”

“Please… please don’t do that,” He grimaces.

Though the wound is not deep, you do think he should at least go get checked for the numerous bruises that litter his skin. He’s in pain, you know that for sure and he’s trying to downplay how much exactly, but you are no fool. Considering that it was a bad fall, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a hairline fracture on one of his limbs. Jungkook waves your concern away, simply thanking you when you bandage his wound. He finally, finally puts on his shirt and you expect him to dash out of your house, but he seems to linger, as if he had something to say but he wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

“I see you’re a fan of mine,” He smiles, pointing to the numerous raccoon memorabilia that decorates your bed and side-table.

“Don’t read too much into it. I like the animal, yes, but I didn’t know you were one so, not to worry, I am not a member of the Jungkook fanclub.”

“That’s a shame. I hear the club has nice perks, like you know, quality time with me,” He smirks. “Which honestly speaking, is a rare commodity.”

“My, now I’m just dying to be in the club,” You huff, rolling your eyes. “You know, wouldn’t your fans be disappointed to find out that the guy they’re fawning over is not in fact a predator but a prey instead.”

“About that…” He sighs, hands nervously tugging at the ends of his shirt. “You know we’re in the same boat, don’t you? We’re both sheep in wolves clothing.”

“Nice twist on the idiom, I like it,” You nod. “But, I feel like you’re trying to make a point here. What is it?”

“That if you tell on me, then I’m telling on you,” He mumbles. “I’m not a fan of blackmail but I really, really need this scholarship.”

“Nice to know you think so poorly of me even after all I’ve done tonight but just so you know I have no interest in revealing your secret.”

“That’s not… that’s not how I meant for it to come out,” He sulks. “I just needed to make sure that you and I are on the same page.”

“Yeah, I understand,” You murmur. “I am curious though. How did you cheat the medical test? How did you get them to believe you’re a bear when in fact you’re a raccoon? Shouldn’t you have gone for a more believable animal like say… a fox?”

“Well, for someone who’s such a huge fan of raccoons I’m disappointed by the fact that you aren’t aware that raccoons are more closely related to bears than to either the cat or dog family,” He mumbles. “Thus, I did pick the most believable animal.”

“Well, you learn something new every day,” You hum. “Okay, but that still doesn’t explain how—”

“I hired someone to change the results for me.”

“You can do that?”

“If you know the right people, yeah.”

“Well, apparently I’ve been hanging out with the wrong people,” You mumble. “And your scent… how do you work around that?”

“I can’t use the spray because I’ll basically sweat it all off so I use that supplement… you know the one you see sketchy ads of on TV?”

“Preydator! Tell your fears, see ya later!” You sing-song, imitating the ad you often saw on TV. The jingle was rather catchy. “That one? It actually works?”

“Yeah, for now, but who knows maybe in 20 years after they’ve done adequate research, they’ll tell me that it’s killing me slowly.”

“That’s very disconcerting to hear…” You frown. “If you’re a quote unquote certified predator then you could’ve avoided this by just applying for the academic scholarships. Why didn’t you do that? The requirements are extremely low if you’re a predator.”

“Because I’m good at football,” He says rather nonchalantly. “And I have a bone to pick with the athletic department. Preys should be allowed to be on the team if we’re good enough.”

You almost say but you aren’t that good at football but you guess making it on the bench of the first team is still a feat, so you decide to hold off on that thought.

“So, now that you know all my secrets, it’s only fair that you tell me one of yours,” He smiles. “What are you?”

“Hey, I never said we were going to trade secrets. You just decided to tell me all of yours.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” He frowns. “At least let me guess. Then you can just say yes or no.”

“Go ahead,” You smile. You were positive he wasn’t going to get it right.

“Rabbit? No?” He queries and you shake your head. “What’s… what’s a prey with attitude? Because that’s what you are.”

You only gawk at him. This guy just says whatever he wants. You’re starting to think that everyone else sees a different side of Jungkook or maybe they just excuse his sass just because of his good looks.

“A… frog? Or oh… don’t tell me you’re an insect shifter,” He grumbles with mild disgust.

“You know, that’s really mean but no, I am not an insect shifter.”

“You sure? You could easily be a black widow or maybe you’re one of those poisonous animals like that poisonous sea snail or—”

“Okay,” You huff, annoyed with the boy now. You rise to your feet, pulling him along with you. “You know this was a really nice chat and a very interesting evening, but I have an early class tomorrow so if you could find your way home now, that would be great.”

“But I still don’t know what you are yet,” He frowns.

“Boohoo, neither does most of the campus.”

“See, a prey with an attitude!” He exclaims. “Come on, I’m close, I know it. At least give me a clue!”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” You smile, effectively pushing him out of your apartment with a kick.

“Throwing out an injured comrade like this. You’re heartless,” He fake sobs from the other side of the door before you hear him sigh and make his way down the hallway and out of your life, hopefully forever. Perhaps that was wishful thinking because in a few short minutes you hear hurried footsteps out in the hallway. You pay it no mind, or at least you try to do so but then you see shadows dancing just outside of your door, and when you finally get up to look through the tiny peephole, you find Jungkook standing out there, pacing back and forth as he silently practices a speech.

“Can I help you?” You question after having opened your door to find a very stunned Jungkook.

“Well, Y/N, it’s uhh nice to see you again,” He smiles, nervously so. “You see, the thing is I uhh lost my keys in the sewer, obviously and… you know the management office to my building isn’t open because it’s so late and—”

“Surely you have friends you could call up for help.”

“Well, firstly I doubt they’ll pick up a call this late at night and secondly, since I already shifted, I smell like prey and guess what everyone thinks I am,” He mumbles. “In case you’re struggling, the answer is not prey.”

“I’ll let you borrow my predator scent spray.”

“That’s a novel idea,” He nods, admitting. “But you can also let me stay the night.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You know more about me than anyone on campus does. I’d argue that you know me very well,” He hums.

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N.”

You sigh, moving to shut the door on him because it was way past your bed time and you do not have the energy to have this conversation right now.

“Please. There’s a lot at stake here,” He begs, using his foot to stop the door. “You know what it’s like for us when we have to lie under pressure… We don’t do very well.”

“You’ve been lying your entire college career so I think you’re pretty good at it.”

“Listen, if there’s any inkling of me being a prey, my scholarship is gone. It’s a risk I don’t want to take,” He frowns. “The lie I tell to my teammates and my coaches, the predator act that I put on, that’s been carefully curated and I’ve gone over it ten thousand times in my head to make sure it’s perfect. I can lie, yes, but only when I’ve had time to prepare. I know you know that too.”

“Fine,” You grumble, moving aside. “You can stay, but… behave.”

“Yes ma’am,” He salutes once you let him through your door. “Thank you so much. Seriously.”

“You owe me.”

“Yes, undoubtedly. For everything, really,” He mumbles, shy and timid. His sentence is sincere, one you weren’t exactly expecting considering how snarky he had been earlier. He follows behind you closely, stopping beside the bed when he reaches it. You tuck yourself in from the other side and you’re turning to him, ready to deliver your whole spiel of if I find your hand anywhere remotely inappropriate I am going to saw it off, only to find him placing a pillow on your floor.

“What are you doing?” You query, watching him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Going to bed?”

“Why are you putting the pillow on the floor?”

“Well, because I can tell you don’t really want to have me here and I’m probably overstepping some boundaries and I just don’t want to impose really so I’m good with the floor.”

Even though it’s happened a fair few times now, you still find it oddly amusing to see Jungkook behaving like a prey shifter. Always cautious, always timid in unfamiliar situations. Though you do or rather did have some reservations about him, you can tell that he’s perfectly harmless.

“You can sleep on the bed,” You murmur.

“A-are you sure? I mean really you’ve done enough for me and it’s going to be morning in a few hours so it’s okay, really.”

“Jungkook, just get in the bed,” You groan. “You’re making me feel bad now.”

“I just need you to be 100% sure you’re okay with that.”

“Seriously, if you keep asking, I’m just going to kick you out of the apartment.”

“Okay, okay, I’m getting into the bed,” He concedes, quickly picking up the pillow. “Thank you,” He whispers once he finally settles under the blanket.

If he says anything after that, you don’t hear it. It had taken you less than a minute to fall asleep. When you awake in the morning, you expect to find the boy all sprawled out on his side of the bed but instead the covers on his side has been neatly folded, the pillow and your raccoon plushies all arranged in an orderly fashion. Jungkook sure was full of surprises, you note.

Later on when you head to the bathroom, you find numerous post-it notes stuck onto your mirror, all of them filled with apologies.

Y/N, I had to use your predator spray… Really sorry about that and actually just really sorry about the whole of last night. Thank you for being so kind and considerate and though I can’t see you right now, I know you’re making that face. The one you make when you think I’m being sarcastic but really I owe you. Big time. I’ll make it up to you… Though I have a feeling one way you want me to make it up to you is by just never having to see me again haha. If that is so, consider it done.

Love, the biggest member of the Y/N fanclub.

You almost laugh when you reach the end of the note. There’s even a poorly drawn raccoon to punctuate his sign-off. You guess he deserves an A for effort. What surprises you about the note though is how well he had read you from just that one night alone. Perhaps you’re more of an open book than you thought. In any case, you’re glad that last night would be the one and only interaction with him because judging from your past experiences with athletes, you know they only leave you with headaches so, you’re glad that both you and Jungkook are on the same page. In some way, the previous night seems like a fever dream, the whole entire experience so outlandish that you would have never even thought to dream it and for a week or two, you forget that it even happened until you get a reminder of the day, much belatedly.

You come home one day to find a box in front of your door. It has no address and has nothing to indicate the contents of it, until of course you flip it to find a drawing of a raccoon, this time a much better one. In fact it seems like he spent quite some time on it. When you open the box, you find the clothes you had lent Jungkook, washed and even ironed. What makes you smile though isn’t that but rather the small raccoon plushies you find, along with keychains and a phone case. A little note in the box tells you that Jungkook felt odd buying stuff that resembled him but he did owe you and that he hoped this in some way evened out the debt he owed. You think you’re starting to see why everyone goes on and on about how nice he is. At the core, he really is a sweet person. Annoying at times, but sweet nonetheless. In any case, the passing interaction you had with him was nice though you think this will probably be the last you hear from him.

As much as you liked to believe that, you’ll come to find out that the universe seems to have other plans. Because you keep seeing him again and again, and with each time, he seems to knock down the defenses you’ve set up with practiced ease. In fact, it takes him no longer than a week to show up on your front door, begging you for help and like the fool that you are, you oblige.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated (:

This was a self-indulgent fic and rly my version of crack tbh. Also this fic is in honour of my buddy that actually drop-kicked a gift he was given. Unlike OC, he was just a dickhead. I really shouldn’t laugh because the poor girl just wanted to give him chocolates but good god, every time I replay the scene in my head I can’t help but laugh. Man, high school was crazy.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts boulangerie #bts bookclub #jungkook fluff #raccoons are cute ):#the tame ones at least hahaha

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prettylilparker · 7 years ago

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shopping with peter parker headcanon

my masterlist <3

“a fluffy, innocent peter x reader where they’re out shopping and the reader needs to go get a bra” fuck yea (okay this turned out kinda lowkey smutty, but i promise there’s a bunch of fluff too!)

omfg

peter absolutely adored shopping with you

yea he acted like the usual, annoyed bf, but he was secretly so damn happy shopping w you (well, really, doing anything w you)

so ofc whenever you asked him to come with you, he jumped at the chance

“peter, i’m going to the mall aftersch-”

“yes”

“i didn’t even finish m-”

“yes”

you guys most definitely get all those quality mall snacks

if peter does not get his pretzel he will pout so hard

“ok let’s go into this store... peter why do you look like that?”

he’s staring between the pretzel vender and you, his lower lip jutted out adorably

you giggle at his childishness, pulling him into you with the sleeves of his sweatshirt and kissing his pouted lips

“okay petey”

“wow i love my girlfriend”

he’d say it a bit too loud, wanting everyone around you to hear him

dude

peter would literally shop w you, like he’d be right by your side, helping you by pointing out things he thought you’d like (and some he rlly wanted to see you in)

“what about this?” peter asked from across the rack of clothes

he was holding up a miniskirt

definitely a little too short

“peter,” you sighed exasperatedly

he kind of just shrugged

boi thought he was so slick

at the cash register it somehow ended up in your pile

you bought it to wear just for him bc u knew you could never go in public w that scandalous of clothing, or rather lack of clothing... he was a happy boy

lord... dressing rooms

peter would be munching on his pretzel, when you’d suddenly walk out of the dressing rooms to the little lounge area he was sitting

he fucking dropped the pretzel

his jaw dropped

you were wearing a red dress that hugged you in all the right places, all the places his hands always seemed to find their way to, like magnets

you looked stunning and peter was a stuttering, blushing, flustered mess

“oh my g-gosh, you look- you look like an...”

“a what, peter?” you asked, smirking at the effect you had on him

“a-a-, i was going to say, an angel”

“more like the devil”

“wouldn't mind that either,” he managed to say

HIS BROWS WERE RAISED SUGGESTIVELY AND U KNOW U BOUGHT THAT DRESS

peter would hold all your bags too

and wouldn’t complain at all, about how heavy the bags were getting or about being tired or anything

because he was just so glad to be in your presence

you were like a health boost in a video game

he got an extra heart every single time you kissed him

sooooo you needed a new bra

and there was a victoria’s secret right there

you’d never made peter go in with you before, but yeah you rlly wanted a new bra especially since there was a sign outside announcing a sale

“peter...”

“hm?”

“do you mind if we go into victoria’s secret?”

peter whipped his head around at you, blushing

“like as in-”

“yes, as in underwear, bras, lingerie, thongs-”

“okay, okay, i get it,” he shifts awkwardly

“it’s okay if you feel too uncomfortable-”

“no,” he smiled, “anything for you”

oof why did he always say the most perfect things??

okay so you two walked in the store, hand in hand

peter was so nervous and it was so cute

he avoided looking at all the pictures on the walls bc he only had eyes for you and looking at anyone like that, so exposed, felt like he was betraying you

he only ever wanted to see you like that

you walked over to a section that you spotted a red and blue bra, smirking while you led peter towards it

peter had been looking down at his phone, texting ned bc he was basically hyperventilating

“hey” you whispered to catch the boy’s attention

peter’s eyes raised to what you were pointing at

and his breath hitched in his throat

“is that?”

“my favorite superhero’s colors”

“m-”

“captain america”

peter looked horrified

“i’m just kidding of course, silly. spider-man is my number one, captain america being a close second”

peter ignored the last part of your sentence, enamored by the idea of you wearing what was in your hands

“are you going to, to get it?” peter was trying so hard to contain his growing smile (y’all dirty smh)

“we can match, but i have to go try it on first”

you found your size, then found the dressing room, leaving peter just outside

it fit almost perfectly, a little tight, but it would stretch after time

you took quite a while (you didn't whatsoever but peter was getting so impatient, he wanted to get home as quickly as possible and kiss you, a lot)

“y/nnnnnnnnnn”

“peterrrrrrrrrr”

“are you done yet?”

“yeah, come in”

CUE BLUSHING MESS PETER

he hadn't expected you to say that

he’d seen you in a bra before

(lol ur make-out sessions got kinda intense sometimes)

but this was different, because now the lighting wasn’t just from the dimly lit lamp in his bedroom and he wasn't busy admiring your lips to not notice the rest of you

he asked if you were sure once more and you said yes

he slowly opened the door to the dressing room you were in

you were standing in the middle of it, facing the wall-length mirror

you caught peter’s eyes in the mirror, grinning to hide the blush starting to crawl up your cheeks

peter bit his bottom lip, concealing the lust in his eyes as he scanned up and down your body in the reflection

the leggings that hugged your hips alongside the bra sporting the colors of his alter ego made him melt

he felt like jello as you spun around and tugged the handle of the door behind him closed

“you look, you look ravishing”

that was a new one

you liked it

“oh, do i?”

“undoubtedly”

you lovebirds definitely had a lengthy make-out session in there

thank god no one else was in there bc peter was loud

later, after brushing down your messy hair, you guys walked out shamelessly

bc you weren't ashamed of being so deeply in love with the other

how could you be?

you bought the red and blue bra

and peter benjamin parker couldn’t contain his smile

“save that for later, parker”

and he did

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iadorayou-blog · 6 years ago

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Hide - Chapter 7

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We went into the pool bathroom and Lance handed me a baggie with messy blue sharpie labeling the contents ‘clean undies’ I pulled out the only pair in the bag, “Lance, I thought you said you had multiple pairs! I can’t take your only extra pair of clean underwear.” He just ignored me to rummage through his bag again pulling an almost identical baggie to the one he handed me out

“Keeping everything separated is more sanitary.”

“Makes sense,” I shrugged as I entered a bathroom stall to change and Lance did the same.

We left the pool and started heading back walking just the way we did before, hand in hand, except surer that the other wanted the same thing.

We got back and found Hunk, Pidge, and Shay in the same room we left them in. “Hey Hunk, can you take Keith and me to my house he’s staying over.”

“Lance, I hate to be the dad here but, you and Keith are drunk you shouldn’t do anything…” he lectured.

“Don’t worry, Lance and I agreed to not do anything until we talk about things sober because we are drunk. We’re just gonna watch movies and eat food.” I interjected.

“Wow that’s very mature of you guys, I’m proud.” Hunk faked tearing up.

“It was Keith’s idea,” Lance began, “which I agreed to because I am just as mature as Keith is!” He sounded like he thought he had to defend himself.

“Okay I’ll take you but can you wait a little longer it’s only like 9:30 we’ve been here like an hour and thirty minutes.”

“Oh come on Hunk, you said yourself that Lance only came bc you told him Keith was coming and Keith only came bc you got Allura to tell him that Lance was coming. Take the idiots home!” Pidge yelled.

Lance gasped and he turned to me, “Yo we were tricked, I mean I don’t mind because I enjoy the end result but, yo we were tricked!”

“Pidge, they weren’t supposed to know that!” Hunk groaned at her.

Pidge took off her glasses to clean them, “Sorry I can’t hear you I don’t have my glasses on.” She deadpanned.

“You don’t even need them you’re not blind Matt have them to you when he got contacts and you got the lenses replaced!” Hunk sighed, “whatever guys, Shay I’ll be back I’m gonna take these two losers home.”

“See you soon Hunk!” She replied cheerfully.

The three of us walked to Hunk’s car while he grumbled, “why do I always have to be the designated driver,”

“Because Hunk you don’t drink,” Lance answered his rhetoric.

“Because it’s terrible for your liver! It’s not even enjoyable, you just get all dizzy and confused and you wake up with a headache in the morning.” Junk ranted.

“Not me I have fun when I’m drunk and then I wake up sober and have more fun.” Lance once again replied.

Hunk just sighed in response he had given up on trying to lecture the boy. The drive was only about five minutes but it would have been too far to walk.

“Okay boys,” Hunk started in a mock mothering voice, “be safe don’t stay up too late don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! And remember mommy loves you!” He joked.

“Uh, we already have done stuff that you wouldn’t do but love you too, mom.” Lance played along as we walked up the sidewalk leading to his door. Hunk just stared at us blankly as he slowly rolled up his crank window.

Hunk’s car is exactly how I imagined, a really old minivan but in pristine condition. He replaced the stereo system with a newer system that can connect to his phone through Bluetooth. Lance said the windows were all broken when he bought it but he fixed them up so now they all roll up and down. He also replaced the fabric seats with a fake leather.

Lance’s house was nothing like I expected, we were only a few minutes from the suburban neighborhood the party we were just at was in but this area was much more rural. The property seems to be mostly land with a short picket fence bordering it all. In his backyard, I could see smaller fence pens walling in small groups of animals. Further back there was a small building resembling a barn where I imagine they kept the animal that wouldn’t fit in the fenced pens. The house was a pretty pale blue with white trimming. It had a high rise porch with a closed off crawl space. There was a moderate sized hole in the criss-cross pattern blocking off the underside of the porch.

Lance let go of my hand to unhook the latch holding the front gate closed. He opened it up, gestured for me to walk in and then closed it after himself. He grabbed my hand again and said “welcome to my humble abode.”

As we walked closer to his house a small gray cat crawled out from the small hole under the porch and ran right up to us whining. Lance immediately goes to pick it up, “Blue, what are you doing outside again?” He asked the cat whilst holding it like a baby. “Keith, meet Blue, my baby girl. You aren’t allergic to cats are you?” He asked directed at me this time.

“Oh no, I’m not. I don’t often play with cats though, do I just pet her?” I asked him.

“Well, you have to let her smell you first so she knows you don’t want to hurt her. But then you can just scratch the top of her head.”

“Okay,” I slowly reached my hand out to her face she smelt me and then visibly relaxed and rubbed her face against my hand. “So why is she named blue?” I asked as I scratched the cats head.

“Oh that’s because she’s a Russian blue, also she first came around when we were painting the house and she got paint all over her fur and we had to clean her up and she’s stayed with us since.” He smiled at me.

“Ah okay, that makes sense. I thought you were gonna say something like ‘well blue is my favorite color.’ But that’s cute I like that.” I said

“Actually blue is my favorite color, but that’s not why I called her that. It amused me that a Russian Blue cat decided to roll around in our blue paint.” He looked at his cat lovingly. “I’m gonna hand you the keys because I have to carry her in she knows she’s supposed to be an indoor cat.” He shifts blue to where she’s only in one arm to dig in his pockets for the keys and then toss them my way.

I unlock the door and let Lance walk in before me he sets blue down on the couch as I close the door behind us. The inside of Lance’s house is much more like what I imagined. Everything was a nice warm tone, the walls were a toned down sunset orange with red roses painted on the white baseboards. The wood floors were stained a deep burgundy color. The couch was a mixture of gold and beige and looked a few years old but still extremely comfortable near it there were matching chairs all surrounding a coffee table made of recycled and repurposed wood. As I scanned the room there was a cross stitch banner that read ‘mi casa, es su casa.’ above the door. In the farthest corner to the right, there was an old piano, the top of it was being used as a shelf to hold various family pictures. In the other far corner, there was a doorway I later learned led to a bathroom. Between the two corners was a large archway that led to the dining room and kitchen. Almost every wall had framed school pictures and childhood drawing to go with them. Messy flowers, bowls of fruit and redrawn family portraits. Lance’s mother kept every piece of artwork the school probably made Lance and his siblings draw throughout the years.

As I look at all the framed pictures around the room I find one of Lance in elementary school he had the hugest smile and he was missing his front two teeth. Lance came up and hugged me from behind and wrapped his arms around my stomach and I leaned into his warmth. He rested his chin on my shoulder and spoke, “right before that picture was taken I pulled out my two front teeth because I was tired of them being there. I wasn’t gentle either there was blood on my face that the teacher had to wipe off before I was allowed to take my picture. Apparently having a child have blood on their face in the yearbook was against school policy.”

In the corner closest to the door we’re some stairs and in the other front corner, there was a Christmas tree, “Lance, as much as I would love to hear the story behind all of these pictures what I’m really curious about is the Christmas tree over there? Like it’s August why is there a Christmas tree out?” I spun us around in the direction of the tree.

“Ah see my family love plants but we all have allergies so we can’t keep them in the house and my mamá always says that it’s the best tree to have. She loves God and every year she makes us read these stories about how Christmas trees are meant to be a reminder of God. So for her, it isn’t just a seasonal thing. Don’t worry though she’s not like the Westboro Baptist church or anything, she’s really accepting and kind.” He explained.

“She’d be okay with me, a full-fledged gay, being here right? Does she know that you’re… ya know?” Also, where is your family?”

“Uhh, yes, no and tonight is date night for my parents and none of my siblings live at home anymore.” He paused to turn our bodies to face the door still hugging me from behind, “See that sign right there,” he pointed to the cross stitch banner I had noticed earlier, “it says ‘mi casa es su casa’ which in Spanish means ‘my house is your house’ something that my family lives by. Basically, anyone who is important to any family member is always allowed here. Which is why I didn’t have to ask if you could come over our rule is our doors are always open to guests unless otherwise specified.” He paused again to release me from the hug and make me face him, “basically what I’m trying to say is, you’re welcome at any time and make yourself at home.”

“Lance, can I ask you something?” He quickly nodded in response. “Why haven’t you come out?”

He took a deep breath before slowly beginning, “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. I know that my parents and siblings won’t care. But all of my family is from Cuba, which isn’t exactly known for its gay rights… I guess I’m just scared I’ll be looked at different, and I don’t want to hide this side of me from them but I don’t want anyone to try to change me.” He said weakly.

“I get that, I mean I can’t relate but I understand what you mean. Don’t worry Lance, you can come out when you’re ready. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” I rubbed small circles in his hand trying my best to be comforting.

“Thank you, Keith, I always feel ashamed that I don’t have the courage to tell my family, some people think it’s because someone is ashamed of being LGBT but I’m so proud to be bi like it’s a huge part of me. It’s just scary because you can’t help but wonder if the people who are most important to you will think of you differently.” He rested his forehead against my shoulder.

“Lance there’s no need to thank me. I like you I want you to feel happy and comfortable. I want to reassure you and help. And the people who think being in the closet equals being ashamed of who you are, are dead wrong. You can be the proudest person in the world and still be scared of how the people around you might react.” I started to rub his back as to tell him everything would be okay, “Lance I’m gonna be here for you okay.”

“You’re the sweetest person in the world,” he lifted his head and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek, “so what kind of movie do you wanna watch?” He suddenly regained his confidence.

“I don’t know I’m not really a movie person, I’ve mostly watched older movies. Like back to the future or all the old Star Wars movies.” I told him.

“So you haven’t seen love, Simon?” He asked quickly.

“Nope, what’s it about?”

“It’s gay and we’re watching it. How do you like your popcorn?” He led me to the kitchen and started rummaging around the shelves. “We have cheddar cheese, movie theater butter, caramel corn, and extra butter.”

“What’s the difference between movie theater bitter and extra butter?” I asked him.

“Movie theater is more salty and extra is more classic butter taste.” He explained.

“Uh that doesn’t help me, you choose anything but caramel corn.” As I said that he whipped around suddenly to face me.

“You don’t like caramel corn?” He shouted.

“I’m more of a savory guy, plus I like to keep my sweets and savories separate and corn is like inherently savory already.” I elaborated as he continued to stare at me blankly.

He sighed, “I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion even if it’s wrong. We’ll have cheddar.” He finally announced walking to the microwave and popping it in.

“I’ll tickle you again.” I simply stated.

He pulled his arms up in front of him defensively, “No need your opinion is valid and so are you!”

“That’s more like it you get a kiss on the cheek.” I smiled at him.

“What if I want a kiss somewhere else?” He pouted crossing his arms over his chest.

I shrugged, “I mean how can I object?” I leaned in for a quick peck on the lips and he rested his arms on my shoulders. The sweet chaste kiss gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling. I pulled back and opened my eyes to the tan giddy boy in front of me smiling like he had everything he ever wanted. I was surprised when that smile turned into an uncontrollable giggle. I fake frowned at him, “why are you laughing we just kissed?”

“Your face makes me laugh.” I stared at him confusion all over my face.

“Okay, no more kisses for you then.” I jokingly scolded and backed away, but he just followed.

“No, come back,” he whined “your face is cute and it makes me laugh. Not like ‘haha that’s so funny’ laugh, an ‘aw he’s so adorable’ laugh. Like it’s just a joy-filled gut reaction. Now come here and give me more kisses.” He begged as he leaned forward, puckered up, and closed his eyes waiting for me to join him.

I connected our lips once again going for a more passionate kiss, I rolled his bottom lip between my teeth before I brought our lips back together and pulled away. He tried to come with me but I held him back. “Sorry lover boy, we agreed we’d keep it at kisses until we’re sober.”

“I know you’re right, you’re just fun to kiss. I wanna steal all the kisses. And more. But we can wait.” Lance was startled by the loud beeping of the microwave telling our popcorn was ready.

Lance poured our popcorn into a bowl and grabbed two bottles of watermelon Powerade, “step one of Lance’s hangover remedy: carbs and electrolytes.” He tossed me one of the bottles, “I hope you like watermelon because that’s the only flavor we have also hydrating with drinks high in electrolytes is like the most important part. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning so drink up. Also, follow me to my room.” He sauntered into the living room towards the stairs and waited for me to catch up. I followed him up the stairs and he opened the first door in the upstairs hall.

“Welcome to my room, the bathroom is right over there. Also I’m gonna build us a fort because I don’t like getting into my bed before showering so I’m gonna get the extra bedding and make us a fort and then after we eat our popcorn and finish the movie we can shower and snuggle up in the bed, maybe watch more movies depending on how we’re feeling.” He rambled before leaving the room to get fort supplies.

As I looked around this room definitely was Lance’s. The walls were a dark calming gray-blue. On the wall behind his bed he had neatly arranged Polaroid pictures of beautiful landscapes, him with friends, and other various pictures I assume he took. The tops of his walls were lined with dim blue string lights. The wall by his desk was covered in theater posters and playbills. His desk had shelves housing multiple childhood sports trophies, t-ball, soccer, track, and swim. He had post-it notes with reminders littered all around his desk, things like ‘don’t change for others’ and ‘if you don’t study for math you’re a loser and I hate you.’

“Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do this,” he began and we set up the fort, we made a comfortable cushioned area using blankets and pillows and then placed one end of a sheet on Lance’s desk and the other stretch out to the ground. “Okay now, you get in there and I’m going to hand you stuff.”

After handing me our food an extra blanket to cuddle under and his laptop, Lance finally joined me in our little fort. “You're like a pro fort builder, Lance do you often bring guys up to your room and build forts with them?” I joked while snuggling up to his side as he pulled up the movie.

“Well, you're not the first person I have built a fort in my room with,” he plays along.

“So who was the first?” I asked partially feeling insecure and partially genuinely curious.

“My niece and nephew. However, you are the first person over 10. Also the first boy I’ve kissed. I've always wanted to build a fort with someone of romantic interest but my ex-girlfriend didn’t want to do the cute fun couple things. She just wanted to have sex and go shopping, and by go shopping I mean to have me pay for things she wanted.”

“Lance I’m so sorry she sounds like a bitch, I would totally fight her.”

“Thanks, you don't have to though, we've only been talking for a week and you've already been better than her. Right away you made it clear that you didn’t want to use me. She just made me think that she would be the only person who would ever want me. I was afraid of losing that, but then Pidge caught her cheating and her and Hunk lectured me for like an hour about how shes terrible for and to me and then I broke up with her and I know I deserve better now.” he smiled at me.

“Seriously? I hate it when people lie especially to their partners like that's messed up.”

“It really is, but enough about my tragic love history shall we start the movie?” I nodded.

He started up the movie and Simon, the main character, started by explaining how normal his life is.

“Hey! Morning! It's Simon! I live right here! I like your boots! Okay, bye!” Simon yelled across the street to a boy working on the yard of another house not even hearing Simon.

Lance chuckled, “That's me trying to flirt with you.”

“Oh shut up I respond to you flirting with me,” I told him.

“Now you do, I meant before you talked. You were completely in your own little world.”

“I mean yeah I kind of was but, I also thought you were way too cool for me.” Lance reached to pause the movie.

“So what changed your mind then?”

“Nothing. I still think that but then you came out during class, and all this time I thought you were straight it made me feel like I had a chance because I knew you wouldn't just shoot me down because of things that aren't up to you. I kind of just said ‘maybe he has low standards’ and then Allura told me she'd give me food if I manned up and talked to you. I'm really happy I did. You're really the sweetest guy in the world.” I confessed my face cherry red.

Lance stared at me for a moment each second feeling longer as they passed, “Well, first of all, you're wrong you're really cool and kind and cute. And second of all glad to know you can be bribed with food.” I didn't even have to look at him to know there was a smirk on his face, you could hear it in his voice loud and clear.

“Wipe that smirk off your face loverboy, let’s get back to our movie.” I smiled up at him.

“Only if you give me a kiss,” he said smirk still there.

I leaned in, “Glad to know you can be bribed with kisses.” We connected lips for the third time that night each one felt just as good if not better than the previous.

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