#but I'm still going to be answering these prompts when I have the chance cause it's fun and yall sent in some good ones

[bunbunlittleone]

Prompt: stepford (maybe creating a wife instead of becoming one?)

Hypnovember #∞ This Stepford Wife is intent on seducing you into joining her life of being a good domestic drone

[nightingale-prompts]

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[peachsayshi]

I have an a request!!! What about boy dad gojo taking care of his son while his s/o is sick? Maybe he takes him to work and face time her with his son when he has a break or between classes?? And his son misses her a lot cause it’s his first time seeing her sick🥹

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni   ➳  tags: fluff; dad gojo and son reader

"mama! wanna talk to mama!"

"easy, tiger," satoru consoles, using his long arm to pull the phone away from his son's grabbing fingers.

"dada, wanna talk to mama!" his son insists, inching his body forward which prompts satoru to adjust his legs so his boy doesn't climb off his thighs. using his other hand, the sorcerer lightly runs his fingers through his child's soft locks to calm down his excitement while and in the meantime taps away at the screen to video call you.

"there you go," he whispers as he brings the phone to his son's line of sight, his heart swelling when you finally answer the call.

"hi," you croak softly, your voice thick and hoarse while you rub your tired eyes. "what time is it?"

"it's lunch-"

"mama!" your son interrupts, his small hands curling over satoru's fingers as he holds both sides of the screen. "mama, miss you!"

"hey, cutie", you reply with a tiny smile, but satoru can see the exhaustion weighing heavy on your face. "miss you soo much,"

you've been sick for the last four days. a terrible cold that's kept you bedridden. satoru and your son have been isolating to make sure that they don't catch what you have, but your boys have been wallowing without you around. your son has been extra needy and keeps bringing up his "mama" every chance he can get. satoru is in the same position as well, hating that he can't cuddle up to you in the middle of the night, or that he can't wake up to your good morning kisses.

"mama sick," your son says with a furrow of his brows, moving his hand over the screen like he's trying to touch your face. "mama get better ok?"

he's still learning his words, trying to form whatever sentences he can with the vocabulary that he has.

you nod your head, "yeah, baby, I'll be better soon,"

your son smiles at the camera, his eyes twinkling with delight. "kisses!" he announces, before leaning forward and pressing his lips onto the phone screen.

you blow him back three kisses in return.

at this point satoru can't help but feel a little left out, so he arches forward to rest his chin on his son's shoulder, the two of them now centering the screen.

it's wild seeing them both together because they really do look like twins. your son's hair stands as a harsh contrast because it is identical to yours, but his eyes are a blend of your love. there's an icy blue that pierces through his natural color on the left side, a unique trait that distinguishes him entirely.

"can I get some kisses too?" satoru pouts at the camera, and your son obliges but placing one kiss on his cheek.

satoru can't help but grin, "thanks, rugrat, but I was hoping the kisses would come from your mama..."

"but mama sick," your son answers nonchalantly, twisting his body slightly so he was turning toward's his father's instead.

"she just blew you some kisses," he answers back with a raised brow. "I can't get any?"

your son blatantly shakes his head no.

satoru deadpans at the phone screen, and you have to use the blanket to cover your amused grin but you clear your throat as a cough escapes you, and satoru can't help but wince.

"how are you feeling? is the medicine helping at all?" he adds.

"yeah, it is. I'm feeling much better today actually."

"there's a pot of soup in the fridge " he continues, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink. "I made it last night"

satoru toiling away in the kitchen is a rare sight. the man grew up spoiled, and rarely ever had to take care of himself. you're the only person who knows that the first time he ever touched a stove was in his late teens, with shoko and suguru assisting in teaching him. he doesn't experiment much, but he was able to perfect a handful of recipes over time.

your eyes widen, glisten with absolute love. "thanks, handsome. I'll be sure to heat some up..."

"just want to see you back on your feet, angel," satoru murmurs, and presses his cheek against' the plush surface of his son's. "you've got us pining over here, isn't that right?"

your son nods his head, bringing one hand to hold his father's jaw. "sick bad, want mama t'get better now..." he acknowledges.

(meanwhile, you sneakily take a screenshot of the two of them in frame)

requests are open for dad gojo.

[minarisplaything]

Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous.  To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures. 

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

 "Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[hotchs-big-hands]

What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

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And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

[inneedofsupervision]

So, you got Detention

@berrys-hide-out Hey Berry, I hope reading this cheers you up a little, hope you like it <3. @cantsaythetword I didn't forget to tag you, here you go :)

Summary: Getting detention sucks. Getting detention for something you haven't done sucks even more. Getting detention and getting scolded through a Captain America PSA for something you haven't done and going home to have said man looking at you disappointedly is the bad-tasting cheery on top that Peter didn't need on this absolute disaster of a Monday. At least he gets the satisfaction of telling the rest of the team about Cap's PSAs. That's going to be fun.

Read on Ao3

"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you," sings Peter softly before his face turns into a grimace. "I'm never getting this song out of my head now. Thanks for that, Ned," mutters the teen without any bite, stepping out of the subway station. Despite Rick Astley uninvitedly declaring his love inside Peter's head, his lip twitched upwards for the first time today. He was glad to be finally heading to the Avengers Tower. Peter was ready to lock himself into the lab with Mr. Stark and ask the man what they would work on today. Him needing to bring distance between himself and the rest of the world doesn't come off as much of a surprise, taking into account that today had sucked until now. Immensely. At least in Mr. Stark's lab, nothing could get on his nerves, breaking the continuation of a bleak day. 

It began with oversleeping. 

The shrill sound of the alarm had cruelly torn Peter out of a dreamless slumber, and with a soft moan, the still sleep-drunk teen had aimlessly patted for the clock to end the obnoxious sound. As soon as silence had fallen over the bedroom, Peter's eyelids dropped, and although telling himself that it would just be five more minutes of lying down, he promptly fell asleep again. If Spiderman had stuck to his curfew and not exploited his aunt working overtime, there might be a chance getting to school late could have been avoided. When Peter woke the second time, tiredly checking his mobile phone, he sprung up in shock as he caught the time. Twenty minutes before the bell would ring. With no time for breakfast, he had washed up as quickly as he could, shoved the next best sweater and jeans he could find into his backpack, and sprinted out of the apartment. Peter usually avoided swinging to school, but drastic times called for drastic measures. He just hoped there wouldn't be any posts or articles of people wondering what Spiderman was doing, swinging this early in the morning cause that always prompted a rather unwelcome interview with Mr. Stark, or worse, Aunt May. 

In his hurry to get to school on time, the boy had packed the wrong folder, thus having to scribble the history homework onto a paper two minutes before classes started. MJ had caught him sitting on the floor before the classroom, rushing to copy Ned's answers as if his life depended on it. She had pulled up an eyebrow before rolling her eyes. The girl didn't have to say anything for Peter's ears to grow red, embarrassed to look this unprepared in front of their decathlon team captain. Classes were relatively uneventful. Well, apart from the Spanish vocabulary test that Peter might have forgotten. Luckily, he could answer everything, although the boy was sure he spelled at least two words wrong. At lunch, Peter had felt the aftereffect of not eating breakfast as his stomach was rebelling, threatening to start eating itself from the sounds of it. The teen swore he could eat at least three portions until he had seen what they served today. To clarify, Peter isn't a picky eater. At all. Living years with Aunt Mays cocking trained him into trying everything deemed edible, and the hunger did the rest. But today, out of all days, the cafeteria ladies decided to let their presumable hate for the students show in the manifestation of the most disgusting-looking meatballs the boy had ever seen.

"Are those capers?" 

Ned had glanced from his fork, where a with sauce dripping green ball of something pierced on, over to Peter, who, in return, squinted down onto his plate. He pushed the greens covered in watered-down sauce with his fork around before looking at his best friend with a frown.

"Could be. But to be honest, I don't really wanna find out."

The food had tasted just as it looked, and Peter was glad he was enhanced because he was sure if that weren't the case, he would have gotten food poisoning. How Ned got the funny-tasting excuses for a meal down was still a mystery to him. Having no money to buy something else to eat and knowing that his metabolism wouldn't let him go on without eating, Peter hadn't had much of a choice other than to force the stuff down his throat. 

"If I don't show up to school tomorrow, you know what has happened to me," Ned had said with a slightly pained expression as he pushed his empty plate away to put a safety distance between himself and his lunch.

"Same," agreed Peter as he stood up. He had thrown a look at the leftovers, suppressing a shudder as he collected the food tray. They quickly left the cafeteria and the traumatic lunch experience the place brought with it behind. On their way to biology class, Peter had hope that this was the point where his day would finally turn, where it would start getting better. But of course, no day at school could end without Flash strutting up to them, holding onto the need to be insufferable. Flash had been making a beeline for Peter. The intent to bump his shoulder into Peter had been painfully obvious. Flash's nearing presence had sent Peter's spider-sense off, and it took the vigilante some willpower to let the impact happen. 

"What, not apologizing for blocking the hall with your stupid face, Parker?"

Not wanting the situation to escalate, Peter tried to overlook the provocation. He wasn't looking forward to a confrontation, minding his business and continuing walking away when Ned whispered. "Don't mind him. Flash probably ate one too many of those meatballs and now feels like crap." Peter was aware that his friend only meant to lighten up the mood. He couldn't help heaving a sigh when their classmate turned around with an icy glare. "What did you say about me, Fatty?" 

Apparently, Neds whispering had not been as quiet as intended. Flash had snarled, hand reaching out to grab Ned's collar but grasped at nothing as Peter anticipated the action and pulled his friend out of reach. He had shoved himself between the two and tried to calm Flash down when the teen grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him closer. 

"Listen, Parker, one more word from your friend and I-" The rest of his threat had gotten cut off by the booming voice of Mrs. Warren echoing through the hallway, causing the students standing near her to jump at the sound.

"Parker, Thompson! Detention!"

"Fuck you, Parker."

With a glare, Flash had let go of him and stomped away under the watchful eye of Mrs. Warren. Ned had turned wide-eyed to his friend, carefully laying his hand on Peter's arm where Flash had grabbed him.

"Are you hurt? Peter, I'm so sorry, you shouldn't get detention because of me. I'll talk to Mrs. Warren."

Peter had pulled Ned back with a tired sigh. "Don't bother, Ned. You know Mrs. Warren won't change her mind. She's not exactly my biggest fan. I'll message Mr. Stark that I'm going to be late."

Ned was quick to protest. " But you did nothing wrong! Dude, that's just not fair!"

"It's alright, Ned. It's only detention. It won't be too bad."

By the time Peter finally got to step out of the building, he felt the urge to shake his head at his naivety. Detention had been downright awful. The second the supervising teacher had rolled in the antic tube television, Peter had an odd foreboding of what would come. The old device had flickered to life, and the speaker began playing with a static noise that made Peter wince inwardly. Peter swears he could see Mr. Stark before his inner getting an aneurysm at the sight and sound of their school equipment. Peter had ignored the burning pair of eyes trying to bore into the back of his head, courtesy of Flash, the latter trying to get his attention by calling him names but got told off by their teacher quickly. Peter had also noticed the lack of MJ, who chose today out of all days, not bothering to sketch someone's questioning of their life choices, and maybe detention would have been a tiny bit less terrible with her in the classroom. His eyes had flipped back to the TV, where a star-spangled, all too familiar-looking man sat down on a chair and began talking. 

"So, your body is changing. Believe me. I know how that feels."

Peter had sunk deeper into his chair with a groan, the need to bid his lunch goodbye stronger than ever. Sixty painful minutes of unwanted advice from America's most popular and still living icon later, Peter is on his way to the Tower when his mobile phone vibrates inside his jeans pocket, Ned's name greeting him on the display.

"Hey, Peter. I'm still really sorry for earlier. But look what I found! This article is about Spiderman!"

Peter was glad his headphones were on as he clicked on the link Ned had sent him, as Never Gonna Give You Up blasts into his ears. It took him a few seconds as he stared down at his mobile phone, where the singer cheerfully danced behind his microphone, only for him to realize what happened. A surprised chuckle makes it out of his mouth as Peter holds his mobile phone up and whispers, "Dude, did you just rickroll me?". The grin was evident in his voice before he sent the audio message. It doesn't take Ned a minute to answer with a series of laugh emojis. Peter continuously chats with Ned on his way, his Spidey sense keeping him from bumping into anyone during the bustle on Manhattan's sidewalks. 

Despite being late, there is the hint of a smile tugging Peter's lips upwards as he steps out of the elevator, amused about something Ned had written. Someone clears their throat, and Peter startles at the sound, quickly using his stickiness to catch his phone. The device dangles from the tip of his ring finger while Peter wonders why he has not felt their presence when a pair of familiar black dress shoes comes into view. Realization washes over Peter at their sight, the owner the only other person apart from his aunt, that his spidey sense doesn't go off to. 

"Hey, Mr. Stark," greets Peter and puts on a polite smile as he takes in the frown displayed on his mentor's face. Maybe he should have written more than, "Hi, Mr. Stark. I'm going to be late. Happy doesn't have to drive me." 

Peter's smile must have looked as forced as it felt by the look Mr. Stark gave him in return. The man stays quiet as Peter walks past him towards the guest room to put his backpack away. Walking into the living room, the teen gets greeted by the rest of the Avengers lingering around. Peter makes a beeline towards the couch where Clint is sitting, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his mentor just a little longer.

"Hey, Pete. How was school?"

"Please don't ask," mumbles Peter, taking a pillow to hug it while he sinks further into the cushions, trying to be one with the furniture. He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling while Clint chuckles next to him. "That bad, huh?" asks the man, and Peter hums. He closes his eyes, relishing that he finally gets to rest when the sound of footsteps grows closer before halting in front of the couch. Peter suppresses a sigh.  

"Care to explain why you happen to be late?" Mr. Stark doesn't sound too bothered, which Peter takes as a good sign. He ponders if he liked Mr. Stark better when the man had been more indifferent but quickly pushes that thought into the back of his mind. Mr. Stark is just worried. But still, Peter didn't like the curiosity and concern in the older man's voice, the tone making him feel like a little kid getting scolded. The boy hugs the pillow closer, successfully muffling his voice by pressing it against his face. He really wasn't in the mood for this kind of conversation. Pushing his face deeper into the pillow, he grumbles, "I had detention."

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that, Spiderling."

Peter is pretty sure Mr. Stark did catch that. Something cold presses against his forehead, the only part of his face not hidden behind the pillow. Peter peeks from under it up to Natasha, who holds a can of Coca-Cola above him, a tiny smile on her lips. She nodded toward Stark with a reassuring smile, and Peter felt a bit better, knowing someone was there to step in if Mr. Stark became too overbearing. Taking the drink from her, the teen sat up properly and put the pillow down, facing his mentor.

"I hung out with Deadpool after school," he deadpanned, his last attempt to stir away from the topic. Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, sending a side eye at Clint, who dared to snicker at the kid's comment.

"Funny kid, but just to let you know, I have a pretty little monitor in the lab telling me that you haven't left the school building until twenty-five minutes ago. Oh, and I hope for my and your aunt's sanity that you haven't been around Deadpool without at least a ten-mile distance between you two. That man is a nutcase, Peter."

Ignoring the jab at the merc with a mouth and Peter's secret "Thursday is taco-day" partner, he raises an eyebrow. "Should I file a police report for stalking, Mr. Stark?"

"Kid, I don't need two spies and Snowflake around knowing you are deflecting. Now, out with it. Why were you late?"

Peter picked up on the silence around, aware that, by now, everyone in the room and the kitchen were probably listening in. A little embarrassed by the attention, the teen's eyes wander toward his lap, where he absentmindedly fiddles with his web shooters, a sense of shyness overcoming him.  

"I had detention," he repeats, a little timid.

The silence only lasts a few seconds.

"Ouch, detention. I knew there had to be something about you, man. No one can be such a goody-two-shoes all the time," teases Sam with a smile, patting Peter's shoulder as he walks past to sit next to Bucky. Peter's lip twitched at the comment, relief flooding him when he looked around and saw no one looking disappointed. Catching Mr. Stark studying him, Peter fumbles with his web shooters again. Although the man didn't seem mad, the way he was looking at him made Peter nervous. Before the teen knew what was happening, he was already throwing a lengthy explanation the man's way, a sudden flood of words hastily chained together to form a somewhat coherent report of what had happened.

"Those meatballs were seriously bad, Mr. Stark. It reminded me of the time you made me try oysters. I'm not sure if I should ever forgive you for that, by the way. That had been kinda traumatic." Peter was painfully aware he was full-on rambling at this point, but Mr. Stark silently listening was unnerving him greatly, so he pushed on, eyes everywhere except Mr. Stark. 

"Flash walked up to us and tried picking a fight. I just wanted to go and ignore him, seriously Mr. Stark, I didn't even look at him, but then Ned said something about Flash feeling crappy cause of those meatballs, and it was a joke, but Flash heard it, and he was going to grab Ned by the collar." 

Peter goes on, and by the looks Bruce and Rhodey are throwing him, he should probably take a second to breathe before freaking out the adults in the room. But Peter couldn't waste time caring about who he was freaking out because he was going to freak if not managing to make Mr. Stark understand that he didn't get detention on purpose. 

"I put myself between them when Flash grabbed me instead when Mrs. Warren came by. She saw us in the hallway and gave us detention."

"Hold on," says Sam, sitting up as he looks at Peter, wearing an incredulous expression. "You've got detention 'cause you avoided your friend getting roughed up by that Flash kid? Is that what I'm getting?"

Before Peter could answer him, Mr. Stark had already his Stark phone out. "I knew that Flash kid meant trouble. That's it. I'm going to get that gremlin expelled."

"Wait, you can't do that, Mr. Stark!"

The man raises an eyebrow, and Peter backpedals quickly. "Okay, you could, but please, you don't have to. He didn't hurt anyone, and it's only detention!"

"He was about to hit your friend, Peter," comments Clint, and Peter did not doubt if Mr. Stark wasn't about to call his school, then the archer would be the one to do it. Clint could get weirdly protective at the most random times.

"He does dumb stuff, yes, but if you expel him, it could get him in serious trouble. I know he has problems at home, and getting expelled isn't the solution." By the pointed look he's receiving from several of the Avengers, Peter had a hunch that his arguments weren't cutting it. He needs to pull out the big guns. The teen leaned forward and looked up to Mr. Stark with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster. "Please, Mr. Stark. Don't call the school."

If he hadn't been panicking about Mr. Stark trying to expel his classmate, Peter would have found it funny how quickly the hero calling himself Iron Man crumbled. Tony rolls his eyes with an excessive sigh passing his lips as he pockets his Stark Phone. "Next time that hooligan starts something, I will have him expelled faster than you can say, Mr. Stark, got it?"

Peter grins at his mentor. "Got it, Mr. Stark," he chirps back, leaning back into the couch and feeling content for the first time that day. He catches onto the amused glances the others send him and Mr. Starks way. 

"So, how many pizzas should I order?" asks Rhodey, the man successfully breaking the silence. With the promise of Pizza and the knowledge that no one minded him getting detention, Peter takes out his phone to text Ned, the smile from before back on his lips. He looks up, feeling someone looking at him, and meets Bucky's eyes. 

"Still can't believe they give you detention without clearing up the situation," says the man, crossing his arms over his chest, a sour expression on his face. Peter was about to tell Bucky that it was alright, honestly touched that the man got bothered on his behalf when Captain America chose that moment to walk in. A groan builds up in his throat as the man settles next to Bucky. Steve's brows are furrowed in concern as he glances around the room, lines on his forehead deepening before his eyes turn to the teen. It takes only a second for Peter to guess that Steve had only picked up the detention part of the conversation.

"You've got detention?"

Steve says it so seriously it makes Peter want to throw the pillow at something. Or someone. Too tired to retell the event, Peter merely shrugs his shoulders. "It wasn't that bad."

He had hoped they would leave it at that, but who was he kidding? He's talking about Steve Rogers, after all. Peter's good mood starts deflating when Steve puts on his disappointed Captain America face.

"You're a good kid, Peter. You shouldn't get in trouble." 

The teen's expression turns sour at Steve's comment.

"Steve, leave him alone," begins Bucky, frowning at his friend and leaning forward to intervene when the teen sinks into his seat with a low groan. Tony shoots him a worried glance. "What's wrong, Pete?"

Peter ignores the question in favor of sending Steve a glare. Steve dared to look baffled by the look sent his way. If today hadn't been so bad, Peter wouldn't even consider rolling his eyes at Steve, but now he couldn't be bothered to be polite to Captain Popsicle. "I had to listen to your lectures for sixty minutes today, Steve. Sixty. Minutes. I think I had my fill, so please don't bother starting another lecture about what is right and wrong if you don't even know what happened!"

Mr. Stark looks highly amused, not bothering to stop Peter from throwing his sass at Steve, which the teen usually kept for being alone with him in the lab, not often showing it in front of the rest of the team. Bruce raises an eyebrow, head slightly tilted in question. "Peter, Steve had been here all day while you were in school. When should he have lectured you?"

"He wasn't, but I had to listen to his PSA during detention, and I don't feel like hearing more now," answers the teen with something that might, under some circumstances, resemble a pout. Not that Peter would be pouting in front of the Avengers.

"PSA?" asks Clint while Bucky carries a thoughtful look before glancing at the blond sitting next to him.

"You shot PSAs? They still do these?"

Taking in all the puzzled faces around them, Peter quickly realized something that filled his inside with nothing but delight. It was like someone turned a switch, the not-pout on the teen's face morphing into a grin bright enough to lighten the room while Steve's face darkened with every new question asked, their expression the complete opposite of each other. 

"They don't know," whispered Peter under his breath, eyes locked on Steve. He lets out a surprised laugh, a grin wider than ever. 

"Oh my god, Steve, they don't know!"

He sits upright, the tiredness completely wiped off him as he beams at the blond, eyes gleaming with mischief rivaling Loki.

"Peter," says Steve slowly, the warning heavy in the undertone of his voice. Said warning meets deaf ears, Peter not even thinking about stopping any time soon. He had felt like crap the whole day. Nothing went his way, and Peter knows that that's not on Steve. But having to listen to Captain America's lecture when he did nothing wrong only for the man himself to assume that he did something the second someone uses the word detention in context with Peter without giving him a chance to explain rubbed him the wrong way. The teen isn't a fan of revenge and retaliation and holding grudges, but today, Peter felt petty. If Steve thought he could spoil the rest of the day after school had been that bad already, then he could buckle up. Peter knows his behavior is childish and petty, traits no one would connect with Spiderman, but the teen isn't Spiderman right now. He is Peter Parker, a feeling wronged fifteen-year-old who holds the perfect blackmail material of the person who wronged him in his young, inhumanly sticky hands.

"So," begins Peter in the most serious voice he could muster, giving it his best Captain America impersonation. The way Steve's expression contorted into a grimace was worth it. "you got detention."

"I give you one chance to stop, Peter," warned Steve, eyes narrowed dangerously. Peter only grins wider at that, having way too much fun rilling the blond up while the others could only share confused glances.

"Something tells me this goes over my head," stage whispers Clint. 

"Doesn't everything?" shoots Sam at him simultaneously as Tony throws a, "Nothing new, then."

"Harsh," says Clint, rubbing his chest in mock hurt, causing the others to chuckle. "But back to Spider-kid and Cap, does anyone know what those two are on about?"

Choruses of no clue and a beat from Rhodey are all he gets before all eyes are on the pair, who are now challenging in a silent stare-off. Peter leaned forward, openly enjoying teasing the older man. Steve is ready to jump at him by the looks of it, but Peter isn't intimidated in the slightest, knowing he could outrun the older man. "You screwed up. You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you gonna make things right?"

Peter's grin widens at the same time Steve narrows his eyes. 

"Last warning, Pete."

The blond raises his eyebrows, caught off guard when the teen leans back into his seat. He watches with surprise how Peter fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a short glance at it before calmly placing it on the coffee table. 

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Peter mercifully, stretching as he stands up and walks towards the kitchen. The blond's eyes follow the teen's movement, and Sam snickers how his friend's body deflates at the tension vacating his shoulders, amused by the power a teenager holds over Steve's head.

"Oh, by the way, Steve," Steve's heads shoot up at the tone in Peter's voice. He locks eyes with the teen, who wears the cheekiest grin any of the Avengers ever had seen him carry as he beams at the man.

"Maybe you were trying to be cool. But take it from a guy who's been frozen for 65 years... The only way to be cool is to follow the rules."

Peter's grin was about to reach his eyes. He couldn't help himself. 

"Are you following the rules, Steve?"

In hindsight, Peter should have anticipated that the super soldier wouldn't let go of it without some retaliation. It had been too much fun to watch the man's patience thinning than to think what the outcome of that scenario would mean for Peter. He ducks at the same time his Spidey sense peaks, blocking the pillow flung at him just in time. The low buzz had begun to surr in his ear since he started teasing Steve and was growing into a shrill ringing when the man got up from his seat incredibly fast. Peter turns around while stepping out of reach, avoiding the hands reaching for him by vaulting over the couch, including Clint. 

"Hey, no jumping over my furniture!" scolds Mr. Stark, but the crinkling of skin around his eyes betrays the stern act as he watches his mentee chased by Cap, wearing a grin on his face. 

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!" 

The sincerity of the apology suffers under the smile lying in his voice. 

Peter stands still, eyes not leaving Steve, who hovers on the other side of the couch, waiting for him to move. Despite focusing on the blond, Peter catches onto the excitement in the room, their little chase entertaining the others immensely, followed by the cheering they receive from the rest. The whole situation was so silly. Peter couldn't help but laugh when he feinted a step to the side, causing Steve to flinch as the man was ready to pounce but narrowing his eyes as he caught on Peter trying to fool him. He couldn't wait to tell Ned that he had teased Captain America, the thought alone bringing a grin about to split his face. 

The excitement in the room only increases, so much that Peter doesn't notice the new presence of a person before nearly bumping into them. Thanks to his sixth sense, he barely keeps from barreling into Mrs. Potts. He comes to an abrupt halt despite wearing socks, only possible thanks to his stickiness. Pepper holds a hand over her heart, the surprise written all over her face when Steve takes the chance of Peter not paying attention. The last thing Peter catches is Pepper's green eyes widening, her mouth forming a silent o before something slams into him at full speed, turning the world upside down. 

"Whoa, careful Steve. I don't want squished spiders on my clothes."

Clint scowls playfully at the blond, who ignores him in favor of wrestling with a laughing teen on the couch. The archer rolls his eyes at being ignored and points his thumb at the pair.

"Children. It's like herding cats." He snorts at the sight of Peter with his back pressed into the couch, one foot pressed against the super soldier's chest, and pushing the 240-pound weight off of him without much difficulty. "So, your body is changing," begins Peter, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face despite Steve looming above him, looking ready to throw him out of the next window. The blond reaches out to cover Peter's mouth to block more parts of his most embarrassing PSA coming out of the teen, the panic in his eyes causing Peter to break out into laughter. Steve narrows his eyes at the laughing teen, who half-heartedly shoves him off of him. 

"Can someone please tell me what is going on here?"

Peter perks up at Mrs. Pott's question, glancing at Steve with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, I was just about to tell the rest about Mr. Roger's PSAs, Mrs. Potts," he chirps, ever so helpful. He was about to elaborate when Steve finally managed to clap his hand over Peter's mouth, successfully shutting him up.

"Noo, why did you turn him off?" complains Sam with faked disappointment. "It was just about to get interesting."

"Since when do you believe anything Peter tells you?" counters Steve, struggling to hold the teen down and keep him from spilling another word. Despite Peter's small size, the teen was powerful. Steve needed to trap him in a hold, somewhat resembling an uncomfortable back hug, to keep a hand over his mouth, but the teen with his freaky flexibility didn't even seem too bothered. 

"Well, the kid can be very persuasive. And he did sound like he had something important to tell us. Isn't that right, Peter?"

Peter nods vigorously despite the hand still covering his mouth. They watch the teen worming an arm out of Steve's bear hug, tugging on the hand that kept him from talking. Sam grinned as he observed Steve's face fall at the ease Peter pulled his hand away. The older man tried reclaiming the position, but the teen had it in a tight hold, successfully keeping him from putting his hand back on his mouth. Peter grabs Steve's other wrist and pushes the man's arms away, wriggling out of the hold. A bright grin adorns the teen's face as he pushes Steve away, who is back on his heels in a second. Peter jumped off the couch as a hand seized his leg, causing him to fall over. Several surprised gasps could be heard, along with a rather colorful curse directed at Steve from Tony as Peter catches himself, keeping from faceplanting into Mr. Stark's pristine white living room floor. In contrast to the glares Steve receives at the rash action, Peter openly cackles as Steve tries pulling him back by his leg.

"There is a perfectly equipped gym two floors down, and they decide to do this here?"

"Don't be harsh on them, Tony. They seem to be having fun," appeases Pepper, surprisingly one of the few people along with Bucky and Natasha who weren't shocked by seeing Peter fall. 

"Where does that look like having fun?" He asks, but one look at his mentee's face tells him his fiance was right. The kid is enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Peter plants his palms on the floor, his upper body hanging off the couch. He sticks onto the tiles, sticking one hand down at a time, and crawls away while Steve still holds onto one of his legs. He keeps moving forward, laughing at the strained huff Steve lets out as he avoids Peter's free foot from kicking him in the stomach. The super soldier bats the flailing limp away, shortly loosening his hold on the teen's leg, which the latter quickly uses as a chance to create some leeway. 

He doesn't get very far.

"No!" shouts Peter as a hand wraps around his ankle and pulls him back half a meter. "Sam! Bucky! Help!" pleads the teen half-heartedly, reaching out for the two men sitting on the opposite couch.

"What do you say, Buck? Do we help the munchkin?"

"I know Steve long enough not to interfere when he gets like that. Punk is a mad dog when he throws a fit. Sorry, kid, you're on your own."

Peter is about to give the men a piece of his mind when he gets pulled another good amount of inches back before he gets back to stick on the floor. He crawls away again, but Steve has none of it and reaches for the teen's other ankle. Thanks to his spidey sense, Peter avoids the grip by turning on his side, but it causes him to roll further towards the couch than away from it. Steve quickly takes the opportunity to reach down and hook his hand under the teen's side, attempting to heave Peter off the ground. The teen twists in his hold, and Steve curls his fingers into Peter to keep a hold of him when an honest-to-good squeal escapes the teen.

An eerie silence hangs over the room, no one daring to speak as Steve stares at the frozen teen in his hold who avoids meeting his face as best as he can, but he catches onto the reddened tips of his ears. Steve's lip twitched knowingly. He knows that kind of reaction. He squeezes his hand abruptly, lips forming into a grin as the body on the floor jumps like a fish on land at the action.

"Oho," says Clint, sounding way too gleeful, the first to break the silence, having watched the silent realization come over Steve with amusement. 

"What a way to reveal your secret, kid. At least I won't have to keep this to myself anymore," comments Tony with a grin.

Now was Steve's turn, carrying a mischievous grin.

"A secret? What kind of secret could that be, Peter? You like sharing information. How about you enlighten us about this, huh?"

Peter feels his heart jump at the tone in Steve's voice. He kind of regrets having made fun of the man. Peter begins crawling again, but this time with more vigor than before. He doesn't get very far as Steve instantly pulls him back but meets resistance as the teen sticks to the ground. The problem resolves itself quickly as Steve releases one of Peter's legs to reach forward and claw at the teen's ribs. With a shriek, Peter's left hand unsticks, arm shooting down to protect his side. Steve's hand darts to the teen's other side, repeating the procedure and efficiently getting the teen off the ground. From there on, it was easy to throw the already laughing boy back onto the couch. 

Never one to back down quickly, Peter instantly tries climbing over the couch, but an arm sneaks around his middle and prevents him from escaping. He tries reaching for the backrest, but a hand worms its way into his underarm, and every attempt to reach his arm out to grasp something becomes futile. He quickly gets pushed down, back pressed into the couch cushion as Steve looms over him for a second time that day, but this time, Peter could crawl out of his skin at the grin on the older man's face.

"Dohon't do this," says Peter, voice void of any conviction as nervous giggles accompany his words. Not knowing what to do with his hands, the teen awkwardly holds them in front of him, half shielding his upper body and half waiting to catch any hands that were about to attack. Steve watches with growing amusement how the boy's eyes jump from his face to his hands and back as if he were unsure what was more important to keep track of. He had never seen such an amount of nervous energy radiating from the teen. It was adorable to see him this unnerved about something harmless as this.

"This? What do you mean, Peter? Is this about the secret Tony mentioned?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. I don't have any secrets. Apart from being Spiderman, I mean," Peter stumbles over his words, lips twitching upwards when Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "No secrets to share, no information to keep. I have nothing to hide, so you can let me go. Please?"

Steve turns towards Clint, who hasn't moved an inch, even with the literal wrestling match happening on the seats next to him. "What do you say, Clint? Does he tell the truth?"

Peter throws a pleading look towards the archer. Clint grins at the pair.

"You see that face," he asks, pointing at the teen. "As a spy and a father, I can tell you that's the face of a liar."

"That's not true!" protests Peter as Steve turns back to him. Catching onto the look the man bestows on him, Peter snatches the next best thing he can get his hands on, a decorative pillow, and uses it to shield himself, a giant grin about to split his face. Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Seems like I have to get the truth out of you."

"Noho!" shouts Peter with a laugh as Steve pulls at the pillow. Nervous giggles are pouring out of him as he tries to make himself as small as possible, and it is faint, but Steve's enhanced hearing could pick up on the wild pace of the kid's heart beating. 

"Let go of the shield, Spiderman," commands Steve, eyes gleaming playfully at the boy.

"In your dreams," says Peter, only fastening his hold onto the pillow, the only thing keeping him safe from the fingers getting closer. Steve catches a movement out of the corner of his eyes, lips twitching ever so slightly. He focuses back on Peter, the boy watching him with his whole attention, unaware of the hands reaching for his feet. A shriek escapes the vigilante, eyes widening at the feel of blunt nails running over his socked soles, causing him to flinch and pull his legs up at the ticklish feeling. Steve uses the moment of surprise to tear the pillow out of Peter's hand, depriving him of the last thing to shield himself from his attack.

"Thanks, Clint."

"No problem, Cap."

Peter sends a glare Clint's way, but the archer only needs to reach for his feet for the teen to let the glare turn into a panicked grin, quickly tucking his legs close. "That's what I thought," says Clint with a smug grin. Steve uses the moment of inattention, poking the teen's stomach in quick succession. The reaction didn't disappoint.

"Hey! Stohop it!"

Peter tries glaring at the blond while his hand fails to catch the poking fingers, jumping when one poke lands dangerously close to his lower rip. The motion doesn't go unnoticed by the soldiers' trained eyes, a sly smirk forming on the man's face. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Yehehehes! Stahahap pokehihing me!" complains Peter, but it was hard to take the teen seriously with the constant giggling. Steve does stop at that. 

"Alright, I'll stop. Would you prefer this instead?" 

He skitters his fingers over the teen's stomach, grinning at the squeal escaping Peter before he tries curling on himself, hysterical giggles pouring out of him, unaware that the sound causes amused smiles to appear on every face in the room. 

"Nahaha, gehehet your hahahands of mehehe," Peter manages to bring out between his laughter as he twists on his side, addressing the others.

"Sohohomebody hehelp!"

"Anyone here knows who that somebody is he's talking about?" asks Sam, feigning ignorance.

"I hahahete you, Bihihirdman 2!"

"Yeah, I can't take anything you say seriously giggle-bug."

Peter is about to counter, but a set of fingers dug into the part where his ribs and upper back meet, sending a ticklish shock throughout his body. He jumps at the touch, and Steve latches onto the reaction, taking both hands to claw at his ribcage and digging his fingers in on the search for that spot. Peter's giggles had long ago turned into bright laughter, now accompanied by an occasional shriek and a whole-body jump as Steve found what he'd been searching for. 

"Oh, what's this?" he asks, voice full of glee.

"NOHOHOTHING, IT'S NOTHINIHIN!"

"Something tells me you're onto something, Cap," comments Rhodey with a grin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, amusement written all over his face. 

Peter shakes his head at the words, chanting "Stopstopstopstohohooop," while trying to catch the hands that are way too skillful in sending ticklish sparks under his skin, leaving him in stitches. "Why? Is this the spot I have to go to to get you to tell me about your secret? Although I think I can already guess what it is."

Steve grins down at Peter who tries so hard to scowl at him but fails miserably. It leaves the man wondering where all the strength has gone, and while the idea of tickling being Spiderman's big-bad weakness sounds fun, Steve knows for the better that this couldn't be the reason for the teen's failure to escape. 

"OH MY GOHOHOHOD, NOHOHO!" Peter kicks his legs, wriggling from side to side and throwing his head back when Steve finds a way to slip his hands into his underarms. He presses his arms down, quickly rendering Steve's fingers immobile, but the feeling of them simply touching his armpits tickled like mad. 

"Peter, I kinda need my hands back, or we're stuck here until tomorrow," teases Steve, amused when the boy shakes his head with a giant grin. 

"Buck, a little help here?"

The other man huffs a small laugh. "You're seriously stuck?"

Steve grins at him. "I can't move a single finger."

With a shake of his head, Bucky makes his way over to the couch. He assesses the situation before glancing at Peter, the latter trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Bucky clasps both hands on Peter's thighs just over the kneecap, squeezing and massaging his thumb into the muscle. Peter kicked like mad at the action, breaking into loud belly laughter, and Steve could pull his hands away as the teen was busy twisting and wriggling, trying anything to get Bucky's hands off his knees. 

"How did you know that would work?" asks Sam, impressed, as Bucky walks back to sit on the couch as if nothing had happened. Bucky shrugs. "It works on Steve," he answers cooly, but with a smirk playing on his face. Steve glares at him but quickly focuses on Peter, who uses the moment to try crawling in the other direction of the couch. Clint only watches with amusement as he has a lap full of enhanced teen trying to crawl over him as if that was your normal Monday afternoon thing, only to get caught by the shoulder and get dragged back. 

"We're not done yet, Queens."

"Steheheheve, pleaahahse. I cahanah't tahahake anymhohore!" whines Peter, but Steve catches onto the playful spark glinting in his eyes. 

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Steve, mimicking Peter. "But there's one thing I'll have to tell you." The teen narrows his eyes at the blond, not trusting one word coming from Steve.

"What I tell you now is about one of the most valuable traits a student or soldier can have."

Peter's eyes widen comically. As soon as his brain registers the words, he gracelessly flails in his place. The teen tries to throw himself off the couch as he knows where this is going, but Steve, having anticipated the action, jumps forward and catches the teen around the waist. He keeps his arm wrapped around Peter's middle, hugging the teen against his chest and kneading his free hand into Peter's side without further ado.

"Nohohohot anohohother one! Steve pleahahahase! Dohohohon't do thihihhis! I-I'll goho insahahane!"

Steve keeps a stoic face despite the madly giggling and protesting fifteen-year-old half-sitting squirming in his lap, batting and pulling on the arm holding him in place. He continues his speech with his Captain America voice, causing several eyebrows to raise in amusement.

"Patience." he begins, while his hand slips under the teen's shirt, skittering his fingers over bare skin, "Sometimes, patience is the key to victory." 

Peter doesn't know if it's the teasing or the fact that Steve keeps dragging his fingers over the bare skin of his sides, but he can't help kicking his legs into the air and throwing his head back into Steve's shoulder as his whole body shakes under the force of him laughing. Steve takes advantage of Peter's head being this close as he speaks the following words right into his ear, earning him the cutest giggle he had ever heard as the teen desperately tries to scrunch his shoulder up and shield his ear from the tickly air. "Sometimes, it leads to very little, and it seems like it's not worth it, and you wonder why you waited so long for something so disappointing." 

At his last word, Steve changes his tactics and uses his free hand to poke every place he can find that Peter isn't poorly trying to protect. The boy can't do anything in his hold but giggle his head off, and Steve wonders once again why Peter doesn't escape since he certainly could until he realizes that, maybe, Peter doesn't want to escape. The thought sparks his interest, and he might as well test that theory while the opportunity's still there.

"STEHEHEHEHEHEVE! NO! Anywhere but there! Please please please, please not thihihis it's so bad. Seriously, dohon't do it! STEHEVE NOHOHO, WHY AREN'T YOHUHU LISTENIHIHIHN! AHAHAHAH NO STAHAHAHAP!"

Peter trashes in his hold as the super solider gets another chance to dig into that sweet spot between his back and rips, sending the kid into a laughing fit, face reddening as he squeezes his eyes shut, the corner wettening with tears of joy before his laughter turns silent.

"Steve, I'll think he got the message," interrupts Tony, having caught onto the change from silent laughter to coming out a tad bit breathless. Not wanting to overdo it, the blond stops the tickling but keeps his arm around the teen, afraid Peter will fall if he lets go of him. The boy hangs slack in his hold, trying to catch his breath.

"You good, Queens?" asks Steve, a little worried he might have overdone it as he carefully loosens his hold on Peter. The latter let himself slip to the side, landing with a groan on the couch. Feeling Steve's eyes on him, Peter turns his head but keeps lying on his side. He sends the man a tired grin.

"I think now I know the true meaning of patience. And ruthlessness."

With a smile, Steve reaches over and ruffles Peter's already messed-up hair. 

"You need another lecture, and you know where to find me," he jokes, smirking at the dramatic groans it earns him. 

"Yeah, no, I think I pass. You know what I would rather listen to?"

Steve raises an eyebrow in question.

Peter grins at him. 

"Some Captain America PSAs."

[nottswitch]

is it too on the nose to request some fluff 78 and 133 with sirius black? (i'm a basic bitch obviously) ❤️

aww no cause this is so cliché in the best way possible and cute at the same time 😭 always up for some siri as padfoot fluff <3

prompt list

78. "the dog’s cuter."

133. "that’s your nickname?!"

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; sirius m-list ; how to request

"where are we going?"

"babe, for the millionth time – not telling!"

"sirius, i swear to merlin…"

you sighed after another failed attempt to pry your boyfriend’s hands from your eyes in order to see where you were and where he was leading you. the boy sometimes had the craziest ideas, and you still haven’t forgotten that one time he decided to push you into the lake for some ‘lighthearted fun’, as he so graciously put it…

"here we are, love," sirius said after a couple more minutes of walking. "keep your eyes closed."

you groaned in annoyance, because you were still blissfully unaware of what was waiting for you once you’d finally be able to see, and crossed your arms on your chest, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. sirius was absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be, and he seemed to be basking in this state.

you heard him taking a few steps back and then, silence.

"sirius black, if you don’t tell me to open my eyes in three, two-"

your angry rant was interrupted by something – or someone – bumping into your leg. or, better said, bumping your leg on purpose. you flinched, startled by the unexpected turn of events, and your frown deepened. you opened your eyes despite not getting verbal permission and they immediately widened when you saw that – a big black dog sitting at your feet and looking up at you with a cute tilt to its head.

"hi…" you hesitantly murmured, stretching your hand out to pat the dog’s head. it seemed to be friendly, leaning into the touch and not trying to instantly maul you, which was a nice thing to know. "have you seen my idiot of a boyfriend, by chance?" you asked the dog absentmindedly, obviously not really expecting any real answer. you turned your head to the side, then to the other one. no sirius in sight.

"looking for something, love?"

you practically yelled when you heard his voice suddenly coming from behind you while you weren’t looking. you glared at your boyfriend, who was currently snickering at your bewildered facial expression.

"where were you?! and where’s the pup?"

"the pup? oh you mean–"

right in front of your widened eyes, sirius turned into the big black dog you had seen just a minute ago, and then back into a human. your mouth was agape, because as much as you expected from him, it wasn’t that. wasn’t that at all.

"you mean this pup?" sirius finished, mischief lighting up his eyes.

"you’re an animagus?!"

"yeah," sirius answered nonchalantly, looking at his nails, like an illegal animagus was a perfectly normal thing to be. "padfoot, at your service."

"that’s your nickname?! what does that even mean?"

"ah, don’t worry about it, love." sirius waved you off, which was very annoying, because how could he just spring this on you without any explanation?

"the dog’s cuter anyway," you said with a huff, crossing your arms on her chest and rolling your eyes to emphasize the way you were offended by his actions. sirius just barked out a laugh and stepped closer, wrapping his arms loosely around your form.

"alright, alright, i’ll tell you. but you might want to sit down for this one, love. it’s quite a long story."

[reallychaoticwoo]

Would it be too much if I asked for another one? Could you please write something for ateez with a dyslexic partner struggling to learn Korean? Love you 🥰

Omg yes absolutely! I'm also dyslexic myself so some of it might be speaking from experience haha😂 this one may be a bit on thr longer side.

As before, this is SFW. Fluff, slight angst, lots of words of affirmation here.

Hongjoong:

Hongjoong knew how you were feeling, well, at least for the most part. He'd remembered how long it took him to learn English, and even still, he knew he still had more to learn. Seeing you sitting at your desk, shoulders deflated, writing, and erasing again and again. He came up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. He pulled up a chair next to you, and for the next hour, he tried finding ways that would help you learn how to write without struggling. After that hour was up, he made you take a break, turning on a k-drama. You smiled, cuddling into him, knowing that even when taking a break, he was still helping you learn.

Seonghwa:

He's been sitting next to you for hours while you studied. He refused to leave your side, even after you insisted he didn't need to stay with you. He took it upon himself to provide you some sort of comfort and company while he kept himself busy building his newest Lego addition. After a while of him watching you become more and more frustrated, not understanding why, when you spelled a word, it wouldn't translate correctly. He decided to step in. Pulling you onto his lap, he laid out some of his loose Legos and helped you spell out different words with the small pieces. You were beyond grateful for him.

Yunho:

When you told him you planned on learning Korean, he immediately knew that he'd be spending all his free time helping you. He'd seen how easily learning a new language could frustrate his band members and even cause them to self-doubt. He wasn't going to let you think bad of yourself, especially knowing you'd struggled with dyslexia your whole life. He made fun games, movie nights, and even dates all around you, learning in the most stress free way possible.

Yeosang:

Yeosang didn't really understand why you didn't ask him for help in the first place. You knew he loved learning and even teaching, especially if it meant more one on one time with you, away from everyone else. When you finally came to him to admit your defeat, he hugged you gently. He took every single chance to reassure you that you weren't less than. In fact, you were extremely smart for how much you've already learned in a short amount of time. Just because you were struggling to write didn't mean you weren't learning how to converse. And he was in awe of how well you spoke, looking at you with love in his eyes every time you asked him a question in his language.

San:

He'd spent every single night he was available laying on your bed, quizzing you, giving you head pats and sweet pecks on the cheeks after you got an answer right. He'd also struggled with dyslexia believe it or not, and he brought out all the techniques he used to use to help him when he was learning English. You felt so much better knowing how he had overcome it and spoke so fluently now that you would have never known he struggled if he hadn't told you himself.

Mingi:

He had walked in on you one night while you were sobbing over your laptop. You'd felt like you would never be able to fully learn Korean no matter how hard you tried. Speaking it was one thing, but reading or writing it? You were far too stupid for that. Why wouldn't your brain just work correctly? It shouldn't be this hard to just write what your prompt were asking you to. God, you're so stupid. He knew that look all too well, and it broke his soul seeing you feel that way. He shut your laptop and lifted your chin to face him. With the most sympathetic look in his eyes, he pulled you into the biggest, warmest hug and rubbed your back in small circles. Telling you with the softest voice, "Don't let that voice in your head win. You are so so smart. We just have to find what works for you. I'll be here every step of the way."

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung decided to open up to you about his struggles learning English when you'd mentioned how hard it's been for you to learn Korean. From that night on, you both decided to study together, helping each other out when you didn't understand something. You came to realize a few study dates in that he was also dyslexic and didn't even know until you brought it up to him. Continuing your study dates, you both would find new ways to help each other learn, eventually leading to the two of you learning faster than either of you thought you could.

Jongho:

He'd been waiting for this moment, probably for a little too long. He'd done research on dyslexia and some of the best ways to help things click for you. While he was a bit more stern in his approach to teaching you, (a set schedule he absolutely would not let up on) he didn't fail to consistently remind you how proud of you he is and how well you were doing. During your breaks, he would bring you coffee or tea and ask you about things that made you happy to ease some of the mental load. To him, you were not only full of kindness and love but you were also full of so much knowledge you weren't even aware of. He was in awe and oh so proud.

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

This is purely fictional and does not represent the mentioned idols in any way.

Thank you for reading ✨️🖤⛓️

[enigmalynne]

Blast from the Past - Jensen&Y/N

Title – Blast from the Past Pairings – Y/N and Jensen Word Count – 2,607 Warnings – sexual innuendos, making out, smut JAcklesverse Bingo Prompt – Speed Dating

Jensen is a divorced man, and it’s been a while. Jared had been trying to set his best friend up with who he believes is the perfect girl, only for things to fail for one reason or another, but there was no way Jensen was getting out of speed dating. It is a good thing Gen was able to convince Y/N the same thing, knowing that she was getting fed up with trying to meet this perfect guy only to be blown off repeatedly. When the two finally meet up and realize who each other is, they can’t wait to revisit a history not forgotten. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not my first time writing smut, but it is my first time sharing it. Please be nice to me; I'm taking a big chance here.

“Well, if it isn’t Jensen Ackles,” Y/N said with a smirk as she sat beside the man. She set her beer before her, placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. Jensen’s face turned red as he recognized the woman before him. 

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” he said quietly. 

“Fifteen minutes, people. The timer starts now,” the speed dating event coordinator shouted as they set the timer once again. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be home with a gorgeous red-headed wife and three little rugrats?” Y/N asked gently, keeping any accusation out of her voice. Jensen lowered his eyes and picked up his beer, taking a rather large sip to steady his nerves. 

“That gorgeous redhead filed for divorce last year, and this is my weekend free from the kids,” he explained. “It’s a long story I don’t really feel like getting into.” Y/N’s eyes lit up a bit, but she kept her smile from showing her excitement.

“So, who dragged you to this event tonight?” Y/N asked, picking up her beer to take a sip. 

“Jared.” Y/N laughed.

“That’s funny because Gen was the one who convinced me to come out and give speed dating a try,” she replied. “Methinks someone is trying to play matchmaker.” 

“Would that be a bad thing?” Jensen asked, tilting his head to the side to study his long-lost friend. 

“I should be asking you that. You’re the one who is getting back out there. I’ve been single for so long, and it’s become part of my personality,” Y/N said, causing the man in front of her to chuckle. 

“Jared just wants to see me happy. Said he’s tired of seeing me mope around set every day,” Jensen muttered. This pulled a laugh out of Y/N.

“And speed dating was his answer to that?” she asked. 

“I refused to let him set me up with anyone.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I didn’t feel ready to return and date. Plus, I have the kids on the weekend, and it's hard to date around them.” 

“That’s such an excuse,” Y/N said with a snicker. “Your mom would love to babysit, and you know it.” 

“Yeah, she would,” Jensen agreed. “But what about you? How is a beautiful and talented woman like you still single?” 

“Well, a friend of mine was trying to set me up, but the guy kept backing out,” Y/N said lightly, causing Jensen to blush again. 

“Had I known it was with you, I wouldn’t have blown Jared off. It’s been years, Y/N,” Jensen said, leaning on the table. Y/N smiled brightly, her blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “Why did we break up again?” 

“You were going to Vancouver for Supernatural. I was going to Australia for a movie. We didn’t want to do the long-distance thing. When I finally made it back to the States, you were dating Red, and I didn’t want to say anything,” Y/N explained, running her fingers along Jensen’s hand. 

“Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe I should have. Imagine where we’d be today.” 

“I still think about it, you know. Us.”

“I think about you every day, Jen.” 

Just then, a buzzer went off, loud and annoying. It burst the little bubble the two had found themselves in. Jensen frowned as he looked over and saw everyone starting to move.

“You wanna get out of here?” Y/N asked, always the brave one. 

“God, yes,” Jensen breathed. Y/N grinned and grabbed his hand as she stood. 

“Hey!” the woman waiting to take her seat said indignantly. 

“Look, that guy’s free. Go chat with him,” Y/N said, dragging Jensen with her. 

“You two can’t just leave in the middle of Speed Dating! You have to stay for the entire event!” the coordinator shouted as the two darted for the door. 

“How about instead of being pissed off, you be happy that your stupid event worked and two of your clients are running off together?” Jensen shouted back at him, causing Y/N to giggle. Once the two were outside in the muggy Texas night air, Jensen pressed Y/N against the still-warm brick wall. He threaded his hands into Y/N’s hair at her neck and looked into her eyes with a small smile. 

“I might be a bit rusty,” he whispered, leaning close. Y/N spread her legs slightly so she could pull him against her hips more solidly.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” she whispered back, closing the distance and pressing her lips to his. The kiss was innocent until she ran her tongue against his lips, demanding entrance. Jensen took control and, with a slight moan, deepened the kiss. Their tongues tangled, fighting for dominance as they tasted each other for the first time in decades. When they separated, both of them were panting.

“What made you think you’d be bad at this?” Y/N breathed, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You should feel how wet you just made me.” Jensen groaned loudly and rutted slightly against her. 

“Don’t tease me. It’s been a long time,” he ground out. 

“My place is two blocks away,” she said, pulling his earlobe between her teeth. 

“Lead the way.” 

Y/N fumbled with her keys slightly as she tried to open her door, distracted by how good Jensen’s hands felt at her hips. His hot body pressed against hers had a buzz going through her system that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. When she finally got the door unlocked and open, she turned around, fisted his shirt, and pulled him into a dirty kiss. Jensen leaned down and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her into the apartment, kicking the door shut. 

Jensen pressed Y/N up against the wall, pressing himself against her core so she could feel what she still did to him as he broke the kiss and dragged his lips down her neck to her collarbone. He left wet kisses there, his tongue dancing over her skin. Y/N threw her head back and moaned, her hips moving against him. The movement caused them both to shudder. 

“Bedroom, now,” she breathed, her fingers gripping his hair. Jensen slowly let her slide down his body as he put her back on the ground. 

“Lead the way,” he repeated his earlier words. She looked at him with a smirk, stripped off her shirt, her bra following close behind, and led him to the bedroom. He followed her with a smile.

Once inside the room, Y/N dropped her hands to the button on her jeans and flicked it open, but the hot body that pressed against her stilled her movements. She leaned her head back against Jensen’s shoulder as one of his hands reached up and gently squeezed one of her breasts, fingers pinching at her nipple. His other hand dipped into her waistband and her panties. 

Jensen’s open mouth latched onto Y/N’s neck, and he trailed kisses down to her shoulder as he massaged her sensitive breast in his hand. His other hand stroked her gently, causing her breathing to catch as his fingers danced across her damp clit. When she pulled away and turned to face him, she watched as Jensen put his fingers into his mouth and tasted her. 

“You still taste as delicious as I remember,” he muttered huskily. A sexy smirk played on Y/N’s face as she clutched the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, exposing hard abs and a chiseled chest. His Soldier Boy body was still intact, thanks to those workouts that became a regular part of his daily routine. 

Y/N pulled him with her as she fell backward onto her bed, his weight pressing into her deliciously between her parted legs. Y/N felt her breath catch as he dipped his head down and took one taut nipple into his warm mouth. Y/N’s fingers found their way into his hair, her back arching into him. Jensen’s other hand found her exposed breast and played with the unattended nipple, his tongue darting over the other. A surprised moan escaped her as she felt his teeth bite the nub gently.

 One of Jensen’s hands drifted down to her waist, pulled open the zipper of her jeans, and slid into her panties once again. Y/N’s hips bucked to meet his eager fingers, and she pulled Jensen’s mouth back up to hers. Their kiss was frantic, and when Jensen pulled away, their lips were red and puffy. His lips dragged overheated skin, licking and tasting the sweet saltiness there as he helped her remove her jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Y/N sat herself up, her hands going to Jensen’s belt immediately. Jensen’s eyes were laser-focused on her tiny hands undoing his belt, then his jeans, pushing them down. Y/N licked her lips as she saw the bulge waiting for her there in his boxers. A wicked smile played on her lips as she looked up at him from her lashes, knowing what she would do next would make him feel so good. 

Jensen lifted to help remove his jeans, then gasped as he felt Y/N’s hand wrap around his cock. She sat in front of him, one hand pumping him gently, the other pushing his boxers down his legs and out of the way. Feeling brazen, Y/N dipped her head down and licked the head of his cock. That caused Jensen to bark out her name. Y/N licked and played a little before taking his entire length into her mouth.

Bobbing her head, she rediscovered the rhythm she knew he liked without hesitation. Jensen placed a hand in her hair, gripping and guiding her gently over himself. Hearing Jensen’s heavy breathing and uncontrolled moans was enough to turn her on so much that she felt herself drip down her legs. Soon, she was squirming, trying to cause friction to relieve some of the pressure building inside her core. After a while, Jensen growled and pulled her away from his cock, crashing his mouth to hers in a brutal and dirty kiss.

“As much as I love coming in that filthy mouth of yours,” he ground out, sliding a hand over Y/N’s mound and sinking two fingers into her with no restriction. “It’s been too long since I felt this pussy wrapped tight around me… and it feels like it’s been a long time for you as well with how tight you are gripping my fingers.” 

“God, Jensen,” she murmured against his lips as he gently pushed her back against the bed. Y/N kissed him with hunger as his fingers began to thrust inside her. Feeling how wet she was for him made him groan, causing her hips to buck towards him. 

"I want you and your hot little body," he muttered to her, his tongue tracing her ear.

"God, Jensen, I want you inside of me," she muttered under her breath as she moaned. Jensen knelt between her legs and pulled on her panties. Y/N lifted her hips to help him take her thong off, and she cried out when she felt his tongue there tasting her seconds later. Jensen pressed his expert tongue against that hot little button time and again, his arms holding her hips still despite how hard she was thrashing.

"Oh, God, yes...You are going to make me cum," she whimpered...and then she did. Y/N arched and threw her head back as she came hard on his tongue, only to be gasping for a new reason as he slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm.

"Oh, my God, you are so tight," Jensen moaned, their sounds blending. He moved inside her slowly as she rode out her orgasm. Y/N stayed limp for a few seconds, whimpering and breathing heavily, then looked up at Jensen above her with lust in her hooded eyes.

"Fuck me," she said. Jensen's mouth curled into a dirty grin.

"Say it again," he said.

"Fuck. Me." Y/N said, pronouncing each word for him. Jensen wasted no time in complying with her request. He pulled out and slammed into her again, causing her to gasp and then moan loudly. Jensen set a steady pace, his weight going to his elbows as he held onto Y/N's face.

"Look at me," he grunted. Y/N opened her hazy eyes and watched his eyes as he pumped in and out of her. He watched as her eyes clouded over, and knowing that giving her pleasure was bringing him close as well.

“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” she cried, dragging her nails down his back. Jensen grabbed her knees and hiked them up over his hips to give him more room to move, to thrust deeper into her. 

“You are so wet for me,” he muttered, feeling her tighten again. “Are you going to come again?”

“Ye…Yes…”

"Come with me," he moaned out. Y/N nodded her head.

"I will...I...am..." and then she did. The feeling of her pulsing around him was enough to push him over the edge as well, and he emptied himself into her in a roar of pleasure with her name on his lips. A few thrusts later, he collapsed on top of her, moving so that his weight was not on her. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the room. They took some time to catch their breath, but soon, Y/N was leaning over Jensen, pressing her mouth to his in a messy but passionate kiss. She dropped her head on his chest when they needed air, still panting. 

Ten minutes later, Jensen stirred and carefully slid from under Y/N’s dozing form. She clutched at him, trying to keep him where he was. 

“Don’t leave,” she said quietly, almost timidly. Now that the initial passion was sated and they both were thinking more clearly, she felt vulnerable. Was he going to leave? 

“I’m not leaving,” he said, kissing her forehead before scooping her up. Y/N squealed slightly at being picked up, causing Jensen to grin. He carried her to her bathroom and set her down on the counter. He then reached over and started the shower. She watched a naked Jensen move around her home comfortably and smiled softly. Please don’t let this be a one-time thing.

“I don’t want it to be,” he said with his back turned, hand in the spray, checking the temperature. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Did I say that out loud?” she asked. “Wait, you don’t want it to be? Does that mean you want to see me again?

“Yeah,” Jensen chuckled. “You said it out loud, and I want to see you again.” 

“Really?”

“How about tomorrow we go on a real date? Our second first date?” 

“I’d love that.” 

“Great,” Jensen said, leaning down to kiss her. “But right now, I want you in that shower, pressed against those tiles, wrapped around me.” Jensen scooped Y/N up and pulled her legs around him again, forcing Y/N to wrap her arms around his neck. Jensen carried her over to the shower, pausing to let Y/N open and close the door behind them. The next thing that could be heard was the sound of wet skin on skin and the moans of two people rekindling a long-lost flame.

[deadbydangit]

hi! i would like to request a prompt.

how do you think the killers would react to a survivor!reader who screams extremely loud when injured?

I think I can do that. I'm sorry this one is a little shorter. I had a hard time coming up with ideas. Please enjoy.

With a Reader who is very loud when injured: Ghostface, Trickster, Pinhead

Ghostface

Danny actually enjoys watching people get hurt.

To an almost unhealthy level.

Like, seeing people fall down and get mildly hurt?

To him, that's hilarious.

But he takes it several steps further.

He's the guy laughing at horror movies when people are getting stabbed to death.

"Ha! It's funny cause they were stupid."

He'll say some dumb frat boy shit like that.

He really enjoys the sound of people screaming in pain.

The louder the scream, the funnier it is.

He finds a sick sense of humor in it.

You can ask him why, but he'll give you the same answer every time.

"Uh, because it's funny."

He's kind of an asshole.

But you?

"Okay, babe, I know I said I like the sound of people and pain and screaming at all but, like, chill. Okay?"

"Seriously, there's loud. And then there's you."

"I came out to have fun and kill, and now I can't hear shit."

But, he uses your scream as an excuse.

He won't ever go after you.

And if you ask why?

"Your scream is like, torture. I'll take my chances with the Entity."

Well, he isn't exactly lying. So you can't get mad at him.

He calls that a win-win situation.

Trickster

The sound of screams?

Music to his ears.

If you thought Danny had a sick obsession with screams and people's pain, you haven't seen anything yet.

Ji-Woon lives for the sound of people in pain.

So much so that he uses it to create music.

"The last sound a human ever makes? It's a beautiful sound isn't it?"

He gets way too excited about it.

Your screams?

He'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.

You'll always catch him covering his ears when you scream.

Unlike danny, he'll still hunt you in a trial if you're in one together.

But, he won't record your screens for his music.

Don't take offense to it though.

He'll make sure to show you and tell you all the other ways you're special to him.

So what if you don't have pretty sounding screams?

You have so many more great qualities to you.

And, if you ever feel humiliated about not sounding pretty enough for him, he'll list all the other reasons why he loves you.

If you feel left out because you aren't in any of his songs, he'll find a way to include you.

Just, you know, not your atrocious screams.

Pinhead

You know what they say.

Pain is pleasure.

That's kind of his whole thing.

Elliot loves the sound of your screams.

He loves the sound of all screams.

As long as they are screams of pain, he's happy.

In fact, he seems to like yours more since they convey more emotion.

The more agony and suffering in the person, the more he enjoys the sound.

It's only to be expected of Hell's high priest.

Now, just because he likes the sound of your screams, doesn't mean he's going to go out of his way to attack you during a trial.

You'll be given a fair chance just like everyone else.

And, if he happens upon you, then it's up to skill after that.

He finds himself very fascinated by her screaming.

He didn't think a normal human could scream that loud.

Or that intensely.

He would love to experiment on it more.

However, he will refrain from causing you unnecessary pain.

Even though he likes the sound of your pain. He knows you don't like it.

And he loves you enough to respect those boundaries.

Even when you're screaming at the top of your lungs and pain, he'll hold his laughter back.

He wouldn't do that for anyone else.

It's a bizarre way of showing affection.

But, hey, it's a start.

[genork-the-fandork]

Water

Word Count: 560 Prompt: Drunk/Protective A/N: I'm a huge fan of drunk Lucy. There's just something so funny about watching one half of a ship try to figure out how to navigate the drunk version of the other half. And what's better than protecting the drunk one? @thenaluarchive @allaboutnalu

He had sworn he would never let it happen again, and yet here Natsu was, dealing with drunk Lucy once more.

How the water had gotten mixed up with sake, he wasn't sure. All that mattered was that the mistake had caused Lucy to become insanely drunk, and Natsu shuddered to think what she was capable of saying now.

Erza had put him in charge of getting Lucy home, but that was easier said than done. Yes, he was a Dragon Slayer, and yes, he had physical strength that was unmatched by regular people. That didn't mean carrying a drunk Lucy on his back was a walk in the park. In fact, he nearly collapsed in the park, which of course made his drunken charge laugh hysterically. It took all his willpower not to get frustrated at her, especially since she was more prone to sobbing when she was like this. Man, this wasn't going to be easy.

Setting his friend down by the tree in the center of South Gate Park, he sat down roughly. "Oh, man. This would be easier if you could walk yourself."

Lucy giggled, latching onto his arm. "Am I a good kitty?"

Natsu didn't have an answer for that. He shivered, remembering when she'd made him scratch her chin so she'd purr. Purr. Whatever he did, he had to avoid doing that ever again. Not that he disliked seeing her happy, but seeing her so out of it made his skin crawl. It wasn't Lucy unless she was a second away from kicking him.

There was probably something wrong with him.

"Stay here, Lucy. I'm going to get you some water." The less alcohol she had in her, the better. Maybe she'd even walk home on her own two feet. He gently extricated himself from her and got up to get a glass of water from a nearby shop or something.

In total, he was gone for about two minutes. When he came back, there were two guys hovering around Lucy, their laughs sour-sounding compared to hers. Natsu tightened his grip on the cup in his hand.

He could overhear the guys perfectly. "What's a pretty thing like you doing here by yourself?" "Who would leave you here alone while drunk?" "You should come with us, girlie, we'll take good care of you."

As was Natsu's way, he didn't think before he acted. So he punched the guys' lights out without a second thought. Luckily, nobody seemed to care, save for Lucy, who just started giggling all over again. "Are you alright, Lucy?"

"That was funny!" she cheered, nearly falling over in her excitement.

The Dragon Slayer couldn't help but grin at that, shaking his head. "It sure was." He handed her the cup of water. "Here, drink this." Considering how intoxicated she still was, he held her hand as she drank, just in case she dropped it. "Better?"

"A little." Lucy's face was less pink now, and she smiled up at him. "Thanks, Natsu."

"Sure. Come on, let's get you home." He helped her up and kept an arm around her waist so she'd stay upright. But at least she was walking by herself for the most part.

That didn't stop him from glaring at every sleazy guy that looked her way. No chance he was gonna let anyone take advantage of her.

[nervoussystemss]

Not a prompt!

Part 1

The hero had no clue of the time or the hour, nor how much time had passed since the villain had left. All they felt was dizzy and disoriented, and they gulped in labored breaths.

They blacked out for a second time.

"Oh, God, I hope I didn't break you." The villain's voice sounded far away. Unsurprisingly, they didn't sound the least bit concerned.

The hero didn't want to open their eyes to see the world upside down again, but still, what other choice did they have? They cracked one eye open, and the world really was no longer upside down, but... "What is this?"

"I strapped you to a wheel. More specifically, one that spins. You know, like in... I don't know, jeopardy?" The villain joked, itching at the back of their neck. "I don't know. I don't keep up with game shows too often."

"I'm pretty sure jeopardy doesn't have a spinning wheel." They really did not like the look in the villain's eyes.

"Ah, well, no matter. It does now." There was a whirring sound, and along the opposite wall, a set of knives was revealed, all aimed at the hero.

Their eyes bugged out. "What... uh, what exactly is that?"

"Oh, well, it's simple!" they beamed proudly. "I made this game up myself! Me as host, of course. I press that red button over there and knives shoot at you! Isn't it great?" The hero opened their mouth to speak, but the villain didn't let them get a peep in. "And! What's better is I can spin the wheel while the knives shoot at you, so it's only a 50/50 chance one'll nick you!"

"You have to be insane. There's no other possible reason why you're doing this." The hero needed to stay calm, but damn it, it was hard. Still, it didn't stop them from trying to snark back. "I'm going to need you to check yourself in to the nearest mental hospital stat."

"Well, that depends. Me being 'insane' and going through with this, I mean," they grinned. "Are you going to answer my questions and give me what I want?"

Lightbulb. Of course they weren't fully insane. They wanted something. Of course they did. "What do you want?"

"To figure out how you work." They shrugged. "Or, more specifically, how you're immortal."

"How come?"

The villain raised a brow. Waited for them to connect the dots.

"Oh God. Oh no. No, absolutely not. Immortality is a—"

"If you say curse, I will press that button right now and one of the knives will most likely lodge itself somewhere inside your body, and then I probably won't even get you medical attention because you're immortal, but you'll be in pain and suffer and there will just be blood everywhere and it'll be super messy and I'd really rather not clean that up because blood makes me queasy and not to mention it's difficult to get blood off concrete, or at least I think it is, plus—"

"Why would you even want to be immortal?" the hero snapped, cutting the other off.

"Hellooo? What sane person wouldn't?" They grinned, eyes alight with what seemed like mania. "Never being able to die sounds like a dream come true for me. Outliving your enemies. Seeing the world change. Being able to cause havoc and discord and whatnot without fearing death."

"Immortality in the wrong hands is dangerous."

"And I assume you're the right hands." Their tone turned slightly annoyed.

"I am the right hands."

"Mm. Sure you are, for now." They took a step closer, examining their wary eyes. "But do tell me, what happens when you reach a thousand? A million? You think you'll have your morality intact?"

The hero's jaw clenched. They leaned forward as best they could while being strapped to the wheel, glaring into the villain's eyes, and, "I think I'll still be better than you."

A flicker of surprise was shown in the villain's eyes, but other than that, no reaction was given. Then they exhaled slowly. Jaw muscles tightened. A slightly forced smile. The wheel began to slowly spin as they made their way towards the red button. Despite their irritation, they were still going to enjoy this. They'd get what they wanted one way or another. "Have it your way."

They slammed a hand on the button.

[captain-mj]

May tumblr endure the pain of all the angst fics on it's sight for eating your askbox.

Well then, I'm really glad you liked the Selkie!Ghost prompt I sent in :D, I loved what you did with it ^^ -X/3NH

(If you want the old prompt just tell me)

Okay new prompt: Ghost is a monster that lives under the bed and in the closets of children. Soap has been the singular person he's haunted, not by choice, just because Soap won't have a single nightmare related to him. In fact, Soap sees him as a friend.

Ghost's kind feeds off nightmares related to them, so he's latched to Soap until he can get a singular nightmare out of him. But Soap is now in 141 and he still hasn't had that nightmare relating to him.

So Ghost now protects Soap because he's grown attached.

(Do what you want w this concept, but I was thinkin Ghost takes a shot for Johnny, but gets that nightmare he wants so bad, it's about him dying in Soap's arms. Ghost's now free, free to choose another contract, but he doesn't want to get anymore nightmares, he wants to be with Soap. (also his family isn't too nice cause "he's the reason SOap doesn't experience nightmares, he's doing it wrong" (No soap is just a massive fan of monsters and doesn't feel scared around them)))

Wow thats a lot, well enjoy ^^

Hello friend! I want to say, I absolutely adore your asks and I'm sorry for always taking so long to answer them! They usually need to be a tad longer than my normal stuff and I want to do them justice! Also, did some very mild experimentation with some formatting/punctuation. Nothing super noticeable but if you notice something looks weird, its on purpose!

Also, Ghost is also a child for the first portion of this. He matures a bit faster but their age gap is only really a year (felt weird writing about an adult monster under some kid's bed)

Ghost had never, ever heard of a kid like Soap. The kid was... well. If changelings were real, Ghost would put money on him being one.

Soap regularly grabbed spiders and played with him. Not the cruel playing of little tyrants that ripped their legs off, but a genuine, loving little thing. He'd pet them and let them crawl over his hands and set them outside when they started to get agitated.

Snakes fascinated him. The first time he managed to see one at school, he came home, sat on the floor and told Ghost all about it. How the scales moved and reminded him of Ghost's arms. Then he asked Ghost if he was a snake which made him lash out and try to yank the kid under the bed.

However, since Soap feared him no more than he feared snakes or spiders or soft kittens, he just went straight through him. It looked more like he tried to pat him than anything else.

Ghost couldn't believe it. Other monsters his age were back home! Bragging! And here he was, taking way too much time.

"I'm going to kill you!"

Soap sighed. "You're always so grumpy. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?"

"...I guess." Ghost pouted.

Soap smiled at him, radiant. Ghost wondered if he was made out of the sun.

The tea was delicious. He even got biscuits on the side.

"Why do you want me to be scared of you anyway?"

Ghost refused to talk to him about it, worried it would ruin his chances of ever going home. Soap smiled at him.

"Is it like a grade? If you scare me, you get a better grade?"

"Something like that." Ghost agreed. "I need to scare you."

"I will do my best to be scared by you!" Soap smiled at him and finished eating.

On Soap's thirteenth birthday party, far far after when Ghost should be long gone, he asked for some odd things. Horror posters and books about mythology. Ghost knew he was trying to get more information on him, probably to banish him.

Soap never did anything though. He continued to be his friend with so much ease. He also never told anyone else. At some point, Soap realized this was abnormal and instead of panicking like Ghost had hoped or maybe telling someone, he just moved on.

"We're friends. I couldn't endanger you like that." Soap had answered honestly when Ghost asked.

"We are NOT friends."

Soap smiled easily. "I'll get you to admit it one day. I promise." He gently nudged Ghost's shoulder. Ghost hadn't been touched in a while and the fact that Soap could touch him but he couldn't quite touch Soap was... weird. A little scary.

Soap smiled at him gently.

Ghost hated the day that... man put the idea of the military in Soap's head. He inspired Soap apparently. Sent him on this spiral to try to get into the military.

"Fucking hell, Johnny. The military?" Ghost sat on his bed and stretched out. His shadows had shifted from... well shadows into dark clothing. Recently, he had gotten used to adjusting them to look like a leather jacket, leather pants and dark gloves. If this so happened to be exactly like Soap's most recent movie crush, then it was purely coincidental. And if maybe, just maybe, Ghost enjoyed the lingering gazes from Soap, that was also coincidental.

He cropped up in Soap's dreams sometimes, but it was never frightening. The only reason he even knew was because Soap sometimes muttered his name in his sleep.

"It would be great! Going out there, helping people, good innocent people. Going on missions and adventures."

"Your brains being splattered against the ground. Dying. Fucking up and hurting people that don't deserve it." Ghost grinned, ignoring Soap's scrunched up face.

"Stop being such a bawbag. This isn't going to scare me so you're just doing it to be a dick." Soap hit Ghost with a pillow.

Ghost laughed and laid flat on his bed. He went quite when Mrs. MacTavish passed by, asking if either of them needed snacks. "She can't hear me, can she?"

"Course she can. Why couldn't she?" Soap tilted his head.

Ghost frowned. At this rate, he might as well just become human. He already fucking was. "How long?"

"About two years now. She thinks you're super shy." Soap explained, not understanding how terrible this was for Ghost.

Ghost dissolved, slinking under the bed.

"Wait, Ghost!" Soap looked under the bed. "Come on. Are you sad about your family again?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE."

Soap flinched and sighed. "I'll make you tea, okay?" He left Ghost alone for a bit while he did.

Ghost did miss his family. He couldn't go back until he fucking got a stupid nightmare and he was hungry because Soap's dreams were so fucking devoid of any fear. Stupid asshole.

The tea made things a little better.

When Soap finally got everything together to join the military, he was 15. Too young to actually join, but that wasn't going to stop the asshole. He planned to join and Ghost had to go with him.

The problem? While Ghost was roughly 16, he didn't have any papers saying he existed and he couldn't just wait for Soap to come home on his leaves. So he just made some stuff. Fake documents and different things. he was also very, very fleshy. Soap and him had touched hands and his skin felt the same way.

It disgusted him. He really, really hoped that while they were in the military, Soap would learn fear.

But that didn't happen.

Because Ghost was accepted and Soap wasn't.

"You're clearly too young. Try again next year."

Ghost felt his heart drop.

Shit.

This did not occur to him as a possibility.

Soap immediately started in on the man while Ghost sat there, stunned. He tried to smoke away. Dissolve and reappear miles away and back home.

His body refused. Panic flooded him.

No.

Fuck.

Ghost spent... three years? Time was weird. But he bumbled around the military. For the first time... ever, he ate what he was supposed to. Nightmares. None of them were good enough. They weren't Soap. It was better than the nothing he had been experiencing the past 19 years. That's when they reunited again.

Soap flinched when he saw him before hearing him speak and immediately brightening. "Hello... Simon."

"Hello, Johnny."

So Ghost watched out for him. He had to keep him alive and safe. Both because of his job and also because Soap needed to dream of him to set him free.

Soap still dreamed about him. Ghost could hear him speaking his name in the dark of night. Saying it with a tone that Ghost heard other people use in these scenarios. It was different than the playful manner of when they were younger. For some reason, it made Ghost's chest flutter.

Somehow, Ghost became a Lieutenant and Soap became one of his Sergeants. They worked together well and no one ever suspected it was because they were old friends.

Ghost had long since felt human. Any connection he had to being a monster gone. Even if he fed off the fear of his comrades, they weren't exactly Soap. He still had to eat human food and had human problems like cold hands.

Still felt pain.

The bullet went straight through his chest and the blood from his wound splattered all over Soap's face.

Soap's blue eyes widened. He was finally afraid.

It tasted rather bitter.

Ghost collapsed into him and Soap cradled his body. His blood covered them both.

"MEDIC!"

Soap screamed his little head off. So loud and insistent.

Ghost wanted to dissolve. Wanted to sink back into the darkness and hide under Soap's bed again.

"never wanted to join the military."

"Why did you then?"

"wanted to stay close to you." Ghost admitted, panting. His mask felt tight around his face. "it wasn't just a job for me. hadn't been for a while."

"The military?"

"No. Johnny." Ghost leaned up and kissed him through the fabric.

He finally dissolved.

His consciousness floated somewhere. It felt like home. He could still smell the soap Mrs. MacTavish used on the sheets.

Soap dreamed of him. Ghost was rather violently dragged into it, spectating whatever Soap finally put together.

The fear and adrenaline was intoxicating. Finally rid him of the awful feeling of being hungry that had plagued him for so long.

Soap held his body. It looked much worse than it was. The entire world seemed tinged with Ghost's blood.

"Please. Please. Stay with me." Soap begged, rocking his body.

Ah.

Johnny wasn't afraid of Ghost. He was afraid for Ghost.

How endearing.

The bond between them, the hold, snapped. Ghost felt himself start to spiral away from Soap, his body wanting to spin back into smoke.

But he dug his heels in.

"No." Ghost mumbled. "Got this fucking far. Can't ditch now." He had spent the majority of his life with Soap and he was realizing now that he wanted to spent the rest of it with him too.

It continued to drag him and he struggled and thrashed until his eyes flickered open to see Soap staring at him.

"You're awake."

"Fucking hell, don't stare at me like that. And I'm supposed to be the monster here." Ghost sat up, fully healed.

Soap went to stop him before pausing. "Always forget you're not human. You okay?"

Ghost nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He nodded again.

"All of it?" Soap batted those damn eyelashes at him.

"If you're asking for another kiss, you can just lean down."

This kiss didn't have fabric between them.

[chrysanthemumgames]

Related to the ask about being able to ask Demeter to apologize to Hades (or the Underworld group in general, really).

I didn't think of that before, as I don't know if my Dionysus would actually be the kind of person to outright ask Demeter to do so (though maybe he would, sometimes he gets very defensive about some stuff despite his usual meekness), but I sort of don't know if he'd allow Demeter to visit more if she doesn't apologize?

What I mean is that, for the specific upcoming-likely-visit he let his father decide cause his relationship with Demeter is too strained atm. But his general view on this is "we need time apart, and then I'll think on it, and maybe we'll have a relationship someday again". So basically, not barring it out but still very on the fence. But yeah, obviously the situation with his father is pretty exceptional, and he wouldn't just try to keep Demeter away in this context - he's too selfless for that. Now what I'm getting to is that atm, he still really doesn't want to interact much with his mother, and in a way, I always imagined it as Demeter having to do the right move now, to show my Dionysus that she can ACTUALLY change. And I always linked that change to her starting to accept he likes the people in the Underworld and starting to see them as actually worthy of respect. And while in order to maybe appreciate them she would need to get to know them, apologizing for such a thing is basic decency and standard respect after what she did, not necessarily linked to appreciating or even properly knowing them, at least at first.

So what I mean here is that I never imagined asking her to apologize because I see it as something she should do on her own if she wants a chance at a relationship with her son later on (all from the perspective of my specific playthrough, of course).

And, the actual question is - do you think there are any chances she'd do so by herself? Or at the very least prompt the MC to tell her what should she do to try and make up for stuff (cause if asked specifically, then my MC could indeed tell her to apologize). And I mean, during the visit that will occur next, or like, by writing to Hades afterwards or something, that works too. I'm asking mostly because in that ask you said when she'll visit this time, the situation will be too tense and basically you implied asking her to apologize could come only at a later visit (unless I misunderstood). But a later visit won't necessarily happen in my case if she doesn't apologize before, is what I mean. Unless she does something else that would truly warrant my Dionysus to be okay with her coming back so soon of course.

I'm fine with it either way, by the way! I'm not writing this to complain about the possible inability to ask her to apologize or anything! I'm genuinely wondering about future possibilities and the paths that may exist, if you have any base ideas already.

There's still a bit of fuzziness in this where I'm not sure exactly what scenes are going to come up when. There will be at least one more chance for Demeter to show up in the Underworld regardless of whether PC approves (because it will be a rather urgent situation for another person). I'm not going to spoil things too much, but I don't think people who are sort of quietly not okay with her will have no chance to reestablish connection, but in general the more specific the PC's requirements, the less likely they are to be met (because of course I can't write all those potential courses of action for her, etc, etc.)

So I guess my answer basically boils down to "wait and see, because I don't have the minutiae planned to that extent just yet." :)

[spectersgirl]

Hiii Harvey Specter x reader and they're in a section relationship because she's Mike's younger sister/best friend??

I’m assuming you meant secret relationship, so that’s what I went with for this!

I've also seen a few people writing for a prompt like this recently so I really hope I'm not stepping on any toes, I tried my best to set myself apart so nothing is too similar <3 also this feels crazy long lol

----

Secrets, Secrets.

Harvey Specter x Reader

"Harvey Specter's office," Harvey answered his phone with a suaveness that let you know he recognized the number ringing through to this direct line, as opposed to being connected by Donna's line.

"Wow, so this is what the handsome Harvey Specter sounds like... I wouldn't know since I haven't been able to see him in DAYS." You whined, knowing it wasn't exactly the fault of the man on the other end of the phone, but choosing to complain anyway. Mike and Rachel had been staying with you in your apartment for the last week, something about the water in their building being off, which meant any chance you had of spending nights with Mike's boss was at a zero.

Harvey sighed, hating to hear you upset, and missing you himself. He would've been more than willing to let you stay with him at his place over the last week, however, he knew better than to let you lie to Mike. You were a terrible liar, and the whole thing would blow up in both your faces in about three seconds. You'd only been seeing each other for about 2 months, and up until now it had been pretty easy to hide from Mike. He didn't suspect a thing, so you didn't exactly have to lie.

"I know, pretty girl. I'm sorry. I miss you too. Do you know when their water will be back up and running?"

"I think they said they'll be gone by tomorrow." You paused for a moment, thinking about how, even though you'd be able to be with Harvey again, you'd still be hiding in plain sight from your big brother. "I wish we didn't have to keep this from him..." You said, a bit dejectedly. You and Harvey had both agreed that once things were really serious between you two, you'd tell Mike the truth, but the time felt like it was dragging. The longer you waited, the more torturous it felt not telling him.

Harvey's heart ached, he wanted you happy more than anything else in the world. To hell with your agreement, he was ready to tell Mike, even if it got him punched in the face.

"Let's tell him" Harvey said, shocking you. A big smile crept across your face, you couldn't help the way your heart leaped at the thought of going public with Harvey. You were still nervous about how he'd react, though.

"Okay, deal. Let's tell him in public though. Just in case things get... violent." You suggested. Harvey chuckled at this, knowing you both had the same mental image of Mike's fist in Harvey's face.

"That sounds like a good idea. Meet me in my office at 9am tomorrow, I've got some time between clients and Mike has a meeting out of the office at 10:30."

"9am it is. Alright baby, I'll let you get back to work. I just wanted to call 'cause I missed you. I'll see you tomorrow" You said. You wished you were in his arms now, but happy that come tomorrow you could finally be out in the open.

"I'll see you then gorgeous." Harvey replied, a small smile on his face as he hung up the phone. He was facing the window, and so wrapped up in his conversation that he hadn't noticed Donna walk in and seat herself on his couch.

"Who was that?" She asked excitedly, making Harvey jump about a foot in the air. "That was Y/N, wasn't it?"

"That was none of your business, don't you have work to do or something?"

"I'M RIGHT, IT WAS!" She nearly yelled, now out of her seat and standing in front of Harvey at his desk. He had on his best poker face, trying not to let Donna see any semblance of a reaction. "You're totally dating her. Have you guys told Mike? Can I film it when you do?"

"Can you PLEASE go... answer an email or something? Anything but this." Harvey pleaded, desperate for this conversation to be over. Maybe Donna would get amnesia from the last five minutes and never mention it again. At least, not until after tomorrow. Mike absolutely could not find out about this from anyone other than himself and Y/N or it would be a complete shit-show for everyone.

"Fine, but only because I actually do have a lot to do today. We WILL continue this conversation later. Secrets secrets are no fun, Harvey! Oh, hey Mike! I was just... leaving!" Donna said, smiling at Mike who was standing in the doorway.

He watched her leave over his shoulder before turning back to Harvey.

"What was that about?" He asked, gesturing at Donna. Harvey absentmindedly waved a hand and brushed it off as her being dramatic.

Mike shrugged, seemingly having bought the excuse. Harvey mentally sighed a sigh of relief as he barely listened to the words coming out of the younger man's mouth. Something about the case he was working on, but Harvey couldn't focus. He was actually starting to get nervous about telling him. He knew how much you valued your brother's opinions since he was really your only living family, and he already loved Mike like his own brother. Disappointing him and losing you because of that might just kill Harvey, at least it felt that way to him. Even though you hadn't been together all that long, he knew deep down that you were it for him. He had never felt this way with any girl before, even Scottie couldn't compare to what he felt for you.

Eventually, after giving half-assed answers that Mike was apparently satisfied with, he thanked Harvey for his help and went back to his office, leaving Harvey to himself for the rest of the day until he poked his head in to say goodbye when he left that night.

The time until he finally got to see you the next morning both crawled and flew for Harvey. On one hand, he couldn't wait to hold you again, however he wasn't exactly looking forward to letting Mike in on your secret.

The drive to Mike and Harvey's office felt like it took forever as you practiced what you'd say to your brother over and over in your head. You finally arrived, texting Harvey that you were heading up in the elevator. When you got up, he was waiting for you in the lobby. He smiled politely, acting like merely an acquaintance, not wanting to cause any suspicions. You followed his lead, acting casual as you weaved through the halls behind him.

He took you into his office, sitting you down on the couch. Your hands shook as you smoothed out the sundress you wore. Harvey noticed, because of course he did, and gave you a sad smile.

"It's gonna be okay, honey. No matter what he thinks, or says, I will always be here."

You blinked back a few tears, nodding.

"I'll always be here too, Harvey." You whispered.

He squeezed your shoulder before going to get Mike. You practiced breathing exercises as you waited for them to enter, and when they finally did, your heart nearly beat out of your chest.

"Y/N? What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Mike asked, immediately concerned you'd gotten yourself into some kind of trouble.

"She's fine, we have something to tell you, Mike," Harvey said "Take a seat."

Mike looked between the two of you before sighing.

"Don't tell me, you guys are... together?" He asked, his tone nothing short of uncomfortable. The idea of you and Harvey hooking up made his stomach turn.

"Uh, yeah. We're together." Harvey said, and Mike sat quietly.

You nervously interjected before he had a chance to respond. "We wanted to wait to tell you until we were sure it was something real and... It is. Please don't be mad, Mike. Harvey makes me really happy and I promise we didn't mean for this to happen we just-" Mike held up a hand, cutting you off.

"Y/N, it's fine. I appreciate you telling me, and if you're happy, so am I." He said, a weight falling off your shoulders. "But, if you hurt my little sister, we won't be having this same conversation." He warned Harvey. Harvey grinned and nodded in understanding.

"Thanks, Mike. I'm glad you're being so cool about this." You said, leaning over to hug him. When you finished, Mike stood up to shake Harvey's hand.

"Now, if you guys don't mind, I have work to do so I'll see you guys later. Mike said, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

You stared in silence for a moment, shocked at how well it had gone over. You felt like he was going to come back in screaming, throwing things, something. But he didn't.

Harvey snapped out of his shock before you, sitting down beside you and taking your hands in his.

"Well, now that that's over..." He began, leaning in to kiss you. A shiver went up your spine, you were fuzzy all over with joy. Finally, you could kiss your boyfriend in public, in front of anyone you wanted.

"What do you say we go out for a celebratory dinner and drinks tonight?" Harvey offered.

"I'd love that."

"Hi, can I interject? I was SO right!" Donna said before going back to her desk to celebrate her yet again correct intuition. You and Harvey couldn't help but crack up, leaning into each other as he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Finally, he felt a relief he didn't even know he was craving all this time.

[lady-raziel]

Hi! I've read your document on The Strategy and it's really good! I think it's so cool that you've put all this research in and presented all the info so clearly!

I'm torn because I think the biggest thing I have to contribute to the discussion essentially boils down to a "the book was better" breakdown of the two versions of the story, and I want to stress that I don't hate the show or anyone who worked on it and I still want it to succeed.

But I'm REALLY passionate about all these thoughts I have about it. In your opinion, would it hurt The Plan if I was quite a bit negative in something I post about the show or does it still help because "any publicity counts" or whatever?

Thank you ovo

Hey! I'm so glad you liked the document! And my (long, big-picture) take is: I don't think you should be afraid at all to share your opinion on what you really thought of the show or if you believed the book (or for some people out there, the podcast) was a better experience. Any environment where people are made to feel like there is only ONE way to feel about a piece of media and that they can't express any differing opinion because there might be backlash (or criticism might harm the media's viability in some way) is not a healthy or productive one in my opinion.

If you have things you didn't like about the show's interpretation of the story or even anything else, I think it's IMPORTANT to say that! Echo chambers, even for things we like and want to succeed, are not going to help anyone in the long run. Unless there's the freedom and agency to be able to say, "yeah, I don't think this was great" or "this could have been better," and people don't feel pressure to always say "this thing was absolutely perfect and there were no flaws"... what starts to happen is that we lose the ability to be able to critically discern the GENUINELY good things from the merely satisfactory.

Like if fans of a band insist that EVERY ALBUM and EVERY SONG are all masterpieces, it starts to become a disservice since the actually better bits aren't able be recognized as genuinely being the best. If fans of a tv show insist that every episode is equally good, then the truly well-crafted ones can't stand on their own. It can be an understandable instinct for many fans not to want to criticize something you did really like or that comes from a creator you enjoy--after all, for some people that can feel like a self-criticism.

Or in the case of what you wrote this ask about-- there can also be discomfort in leveraging criticisms because it might feel that saying something has flaws or didn't really appeal to what you were hoping for can hurt that thing's ability to succeed (and cause some other fans to get up in arms because anything other than positive energy is taken as an attack). That can also lead to problems, since when it comes down to it, success doesn't always come because all the talk around it was only in approval. Plenty of objectively bad, controversial, or poorly crafted things do well all the time even when people say as much.

I wouldn't be afraid to speak your mind out of worries that you might be hindering "the Plan" or anything. Media rarely gets better and creators rarely have a chance to learn from their experiences if no one ever gives them honest feedback, good or bad. It's a healthy thing to do for making future projects better, helping fan communities from echo-chambering themselves, and there's always the off chance that criticism of something prompts someone to go check out the thing for themselves to see if they agree. People who did like the show's version might not like what you have to say, but I don't think you should let that stop you either.

That was a very long answer, but I hope it helps!