#like the whole POINT is that i am a girl who is dressed boyish

[leveebreak-s]

is tomboy a gender because if so that's my gender

[the-rat-eatery]

It’s very hard to describe what it is to be queer to me. I see men and women not much older than me and I want to be them. They make me uncomfortable, they make the world uncomfortable— I love them with everything in me. I see girls with unshaved pits and unibrows and stubble peaking through thick makeup, boys with shiny cheekbones and tooth gaps and scars like crescent moons on their chests— I want to be boyish in the way girls are boyish and feminine in the way boys are feminine. I want big, messy hair like that guy’s beard. I want a shaved head full of bald spots in the shapes of lightning strikes and stars. I want a tattoo of violets on my ribs. I love cargo pants, carabiners.

I love loving women. It’s one of the most comfortable things in my life. I love being queer. I love the optionality. I like being a girl in the way that girls like, not in the way that man ogle at— I want to make the men uncomfortable with my exaggerated hair and pants and voice. I want people to look at me and shy away. I want women that look at other women to look at me and yell— she’s one of us!— from the other side of the street.

And it’s not just liking the way girls move or the way they talk or the way their thoughts come together— it’s being queer, it’s being gay, it’s being an awful deviant. It’s shaved eyebrows and hair that looks awful out of context. It’s noses that are too big and lips that are too big and fingers that are too long. It’s the way that man’s shirt falls over his ribs. It’s the way that girl’s skirt gets muddy and tangled with her heavy boots. It’s overexposed photos. It’s women with bleeding knuckles, scraped knees. It’s raspy voices. It is stretched ears hanging loose. It’s girls that are boys and boys that are girls— girls that are girls uncomfortably and boys that are boys with disquiet.

And it is also me. Me— in my appeasing floral dress and calm hair. I don’t shave for weeks out of some sort of childish rebellion but then am not confident enough to lift my arms to reach a high shelf for fear that someone will see— eventually, I let my leg hair grow out and banish the pit hair, I figure: what’s the point if I don’t like it? I exercise. I build up my biceps. When I lift my arms to do my hair up, the muscles bulge and ripple— this feels good. But my mother scolds me for lifting too much, tells me that this is a man’s job— what am I to do with that? My nail polish is chipped and I wear boots everywhere and I stare at pretty girls when they aren’t looking. I write poetry for my best friend, poetry I will make sure she never reads. I am… adjacent to queerness. No boys ask me out despite the fact that I still want them too, I suspect they hear my baying laugh and see the long hair on my ankles and are made uncomfortable (but is that not what I wanted?— I ask myself— did I not want to displace those who have always been steady, make steady those who trip often?). But no girls ask me out either, and I am afraid of them. There are gay girls in my sphere, but they don’t pick up on the signals I am desperately trying to send out— me on my little rock stuck in open space, casting out radio signals like fishing line in the hopes that, someday, it will catch. But my boots do nothing but squeak on the tile and my hair does nothing but fall limp in the heat. I am too uncomfortable and yet too commonplace. I am stuck on the path between person and better person— the front wheel of my bicycle has gotten lodged in the mud and I keep pulling and pulling and, eventually, it will fly out and all the momentum of my pulling will launch me over the finish line.

I want to wear a suit that looks good on me. I want a carabiner, a whole collection of heavy boots and jackets. I want to be a gender-bending, fluid masterpiece. Someone that is neither man nor woman but king and queen and warlock all. I am stifled here, muted. My colors dimmed and dulled— sullied under the too bright rays of scrutiny that I consist under. The problem is— I like my floral dresses, my thick hair that gets stiff in the sea breeze. But I also like the way I look in blazers and my one pair of expensive, woolen pants. I like the way it feels to stomp my boots at a concert. I feel masculine and I am powerful in that masculinity. I also feel powerful when the sun hits my hips as I lounge next to the Atlantic— the way strangers stare at my flushed face, my full thighs and strong arms, feels powerful. Like I have and hold power in my cupped hands and like I have drunk from them. I don’t fall into the lines of butch and femme, I only stand on them, admiring the people on either side.

There is strength in knowing who you are, there is stability, there is community. There is that look that passes between people when they spot another in the crowd— a nod of respect, of compassion, of recognition. Hello there— person that is not like those around you— it says— do not fret, you are like me. I want that.

[awesomedurraworld]

I am asking for questions 6, 8, 14, 21 and 22 for the marvelous little guy that is Edward Elric!

LYLY, BLESSING ME WITH AN ASK 🥹💖

First have a tiny wee Ed doodle that i drew last night

The doodle is so small which is why he is so pixelized Bahaha

NOW, moving on to the questions!

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Ed and i have lots of similarities, and they were pointed out by you most of the time. besides us being the oldest siblings in the family and being a mama’s child ( him being a mama’s boy and me being a mama’s girl.) we also share the long hair in braids deal.

Ed Is smart and is gifted and loves books, and learning new things, and while I never like to sound as if I brag but i too, share these qualities with him.

Ed Is angry, and i hate to admit it, but i am also an angry person at times- promise i am working in being a better person in that aspect 🫣 my boy LOVES stew, i LOVE LOVE stew as well, both of us are protective of our people, and we will both make sure to give our 100% when it comes to helping people. If we can help we will 200% help as much as we could. Also there is the part where we both will stay up late to get things done 😭

I just feel connected to that fierce alchemist dude, but these facts are what came to my mind right now!

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

i hate when they just make him angry all the time for no reason? Or when they make him yell or be mean for no reason at times. I dislike when people call him shrimp when he is short or when he is cocky? He is brash don't get me wrong, but i dislike it when people make it his whole personality without looking at the whys of him acting that way.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

that is an easy one 😌😌

As a teen, the most famous outfit is the red coat leather pants outfit, and many would say that Ed is a punk- but to me, Ed is more of street style aesthetic, leaning lightly to punk when it comes to fabric texture and colors, tho we do see him in different outfits throughout the show/manga that scream “ street fashion.”

When he is a young adult, Edward is basically the Human of dark and light academia aesthetic. Shirts, dress pants, coats and sweaters alongside The calm colors and calm fabrics. They all play in showing how calmer Ed became during his late teen years and into his young adult years.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

To me, i use Ed a lot to project who i am in fics. While still adding that Elric boyish ingredients when it comes to writing him,( that is of course if that portraying can be written in that specific plot. Not very Ed i wrote is a projection Ed don't worry!!!) Ed And i are alike, so it is so easy to write him. What i don't like is the same thing as what i dislike the fandom doing to him- angry and mean for No reason and when people call Him short. I don't know why people think it is funny to bully Someone when they clearly get upset 😭?

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

same things as writing, but i also love seeing how people explore his character and what headcanons they give him, and often times i adopt those headcanons and evolve them to go with the characteristics that i give him.

Am i making any sense in this post? 😭 i hope so haha

[fmkkennedy]

idk if you want it sent here but BAYLIV

listen the FUCK here, am i EVER TRASH for f/f royalty shit!!! and the idea that they'd be two girls from opposing families who were raised to despise one another, and yet they fall madly and deeply in love!??!? that despite their families wanting them to marry off to ignorant men and to provide them with dowries, they'd much rather just run off and be happy with one another-- even if that means giving up every comfort that they know?? WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

bayley comes from a family that's far more prestigious. don't get me wrong, liv's family has some pull, but bayley is a pretty big fucking deal. she comes from the Hunter side of the family, meaning that her father (aptly named Hunter) was the lead on any and all trips. he came back with the big game. he was the king's right-hand man. he was his advisor. bayley was raised to be incredibly self-sufficient, a warrior in her own right, someone who could step up and take her father's place if absolutely necessary. she was gnarly with a bow and arrow, she could toss throwing knives with such ease and grace that it was almost poetic. despite being a woman, she was still invited on hunting trips and expeditions of that nature that weren't inherently dangerous. which is where she met liv. liv was the daughter of a bureaucrat. liv was raised to be Perfect. a perfect image of what a woman should be, an ideal. however, she fucking hated it. she was the eldest girl in her family, that was mostly made up of boys, and she wanted to be just like them. to hunt, to get dirty, to ride horses and make changes in the world, rather than sit in a court and be pretty and petite. eventually, her brothers would make her over into a guy setup and bring her on a hunt. liv's gay ass fell in love at first sight. bayley had no fucking idea who she was, she had a point to prove-- not only for herself or her family, but to prove that women deserved to be on the hunt just as much as any man.

liv, in her boyish get-up, saves bayley's life. it's in private. bayley had run off to catch a kill, but liv trailed after her, insistent that no one should be alone. liv was right, and bayley's senses were blinded by her desire to prove herself and led her into a dangerous predicament with a pack of wolves. unfortunately, in the process, the golden deer that bayley had managed to sink an arrow into is lost to the wolves, but liv ran in on her horse at the exact right moment to pull bayley up and onto the back to ride off. bayley is not pleased, btw. not pleased at all because that deer could've proven so much for her, for her family, for women, and there was this fucking weird little man running into the scene and fucking everything up. TYPICAL.

they meet again at court. or well, liv as liv and bayley as bayley meet at court. liv is dressed up like a little perfect cupcake, and bayley looks stunning and far more herself-- her family a little bit more accepting that she isn't what the ideal princess would be. once again, liv is fucking shooketh. bayley and her family are introduced to liv's, and bayley's spending the whole time trying to find the brother who fucked up her Moment. bayley eventually settles and talks to liv, first trying to find out information, but they eventually keep talking. and keep talking. and keep talking. and keep talking.

it's from there, there's the moments that they steal. liv begs her parents to allow her to engage in swordplay, to learn to defend herself and their people if it's absolutely necessary, and that's a way to get closer to bayley. liv sneaks out to see her. bayley finds herself in court far more often than she'd ever want to be previously. it's so much stealing glances and soft looks and gentle caresses of the hands and :) their first night together happens after bayley gets injured during a hunt, and liv exposes herself as The Brother Who Saved Her, which leads to a spat and then making up Quite Nicely.

they're both set to be married off. bayley because her family needs the influence, and liv because it's what's entirely expected of her. they're both with sheepish, loser men whose royal parents babied and coddled up until the moment they sent them off to be with their wives. unsurprisingly, they both run. liv steals her childhood horse and meets bayley in the woods where they first met, and they run off together. they live in the woods, primarily, and become a sort of Robin Hood Couple situation after seeing the lives that other people in the kingdom of had to live. ~THE END~

---

"Mi'lady, are you hurt?" The sheepish voice came from the young gentleman guiding the steed out of the dangerous scenario. Wolves howled hungrily, licking at their chops for a larger meal than the one that was provided, but the rider was well-practiced, experienced enough to bob and weave himself and the one known as Bayley saddled up behind him, frustration etched on her face.

"What was that about?!" Bayley let out, glancing behind her at the scene at which they'd left. That deer could've changed things. Not only for her, not only for her family, but... "I had it sorted!"

She was met with silence, before the sheepish voice spoke up again.

"Mi'lady, I do not believe being cornered by a hungry pack of wolves is 'sorting it.'" They replied calmly, looking briefly over their shoulder.

Blue eyes met brown, a flash of ... something behind ocean eyes before the rider looked forward again, tugging on the reins to signal for the horse to slow down.

"I. Was. Fine." Bayley insisted, her tone insinuating that she was not willing to argue. The rider simply nodded their head once, clicking their tongue as they motioned for the horse to go back to where the hunting grounds were situated.

"I'm quite sure, you were." The rider replied, nodding once again. "My apologies. I shall let them know that your loss of prey was of my doing. Will that be enough?"

Bayley scoffed, eyes now meeting the upcoming camp where her father stood, panic-stricken. Swinging her legs off the horse, she jumped off nimbly before shaking her head, moving onward without looking back. "No. It won't."

The rider's brothers swarmed over, applauding the rider who hopped off calmly, eyes never leaving the back of Bayley's head, a frown etched onto their face. The rider sighed, sadly, eventually turning with their brothers to discuss exactly what had happened-- the falsified version.

With a hum and a nod, the eldest brother looked down at her, eyebrow raised as the other brothers departed to break up into groups to continue the massive hunt: "She's got you quite. Love at first sight, no?"

[lonelynova]

Opinion Piece

I believe the whole gender thing has gone too far.

Sure, I am one to advocate for self expression for both sides. I in fact was once a tomboy and dressed like one, in some aspects I still am and still do while being into girly things. I even agreed just let the feminine men be themselves, because there is more boyish girls and more girlish boys. Tomyboys and Femboys. Straight, simple to the point. I even agreed to just let trans-people live their lives and leave them alone, if it makes their life happy whats the problem? Same goes with pronouns, I agreed to the main three he/them/her, if it helped others express themselves.

but now? Well...

I can't help question if I want to continue to support it with how far its been reaching beyond its barrier. There was a comfortable stop sign and like a speeding party bus it barreled right through! They don't care who's on the road, that bus has no destination and just wants to disrupt the world.

Those who use "Pronouns" is one thing that has gone way way too far, even past reality for most of them. I don't feel like writing a long paragraph today, so have a list of examples:

Aside Them/He/She, a good handful of them want to accept and believe that identifying as an animal or sound is a gender. Either having pronouns of Xe/Xer or Bat/Bats as examples. That is NOT based on reality.

They want everybody to use pronouns, even all other countries. They call it 'being inclusive', but really they are forcing their belief what gender is into everybody else's business. Doesn't matter if you have a culture, opinion or religion that disagrees with it- Just like the Latinos, they don't have the choice of being called Latinx despite having no consent from the general people.

They try to dismantle that clothing does have gender. A girl going by them/he wearing the most frilly of frills, complaining how people misgender them and how it upsets them, so clothing shouldn't have gender just so people can't misgender her. That dismantles the whole DragQueen and Trans with how clothing is shown being gendered.

You are NOT ALLOWED to disagree with Pronouns, even if its your religion, culture or personal opinions. If you do not respect using pronouns of somebody else you are called every label under the exclusive bigot umbrella. People are forced to comply to use them and demanded respect from them, when the community itself cries when they believe an opinion is forced on them and won't respect other people.

The general community tries to change language of another culture just so they have their pronouns. Not every culture or every populous wants to use pronouns or accompany it, but if they don't then they're seen as bad people.

They want to believe they can just raise a child has non-binary, thinking this certainly won't confuse the child as it grows up or cause some serious confusion. We have yet to see the fruit produced from this new wave of pronoun use, so we'll have to see what happens when those kids grow up and their stories.

They want you to get the pronouns right the first time despite not remotely looking like the gender they identify as, basically no room for mistakes or accidental assumptions.

A good number of the community makes "Cis" people out to be the enemy just for being their biological gender and accepting that.

I've already made posts when it came to Trans people, but this is legit just a public journal of sorts like I've described before.

It just seems like people who wants to be trans or use pronouns hate themselves. They preach self love, but these people seem to be the most miserable and most self-loathing out of anybody in the rest of the world. The world will not bend around them to please them, so it upsets them how reality is they aren't what they want to be. They deny reality with their own logic and justification to why they believe something is real.

Maybe instead of transitioning or using pronouns... Maybe these people really need help in understand what true self-love is and accepting them as they are, instead of what they're not.

[imfrom-neptune]

Homophobic shit my parents have said to me (a list)

For reference, I’m afab nonbinary/genderfluid and asexual, no idea where I am romantically, but I’m not straight. Most of this revolves around gender issues.

“you feel fancy? Like a girl?”

“You’re not a girl? Let me see. Look like a girl to me.”

“You are not Landen, you’re [deadname]. You can’t change your name.”

Many variations of “tell your friends to call you by your ‘real’ name”

“You are a girl. You’ll always be a girl.”

“God made you perfectly and he made you a beautiful girl.”

“Not every teenager on the planet is gay and neither are you.”

“Stop dressing ‘like a boy’”

“you’re not a girl? Well why aren’t you 60 then? Why aren’t you tall? Why aren’t you rich?”

“You can tell anyone you want, but no one is going to believe you.”

Being more concerned about me liking girls than the fact that I was planning to off myself (which may not be directly homophobic, but shows the extreme to which they didn’t want me to be gay)

“This whole non-binary thing isn’t real. It’s made up.”

“I still expect you to dress like a girl, ma’am.”

Wouldn’t let me cut my hair for years, so that I wouldn’t be “boyish”

“Stop lying to your friends to fit in. It’s not cute.”

“You can’t date without sex. That’s the entire point. Otherwise who will love you?”

And my personal favorite:

“I did not give up my life, my freedom, my body, for you to grow up to be nothing.”

Can someone give me examples of Homophobia ( is for a school work )

[cherienymphe]

At Your Service (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, DUB-CON, AGE GAP, escort!Reader, jealous!Peter, loss of virginity (m.), mentions of Tony x reader, basically porn with a plot

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ { page breaks done by @writeyourmindaway​ }

summary: with Tony Stark being a regular of yours, you’re surprised to find that it’s not him you’ll be servicing, but instead the boyish brunette at his side. Tony wants you to make Peter’s 21st birthday special, and you do just that, but what is just a job to you quickly becomes more for Peter.

~

The bass of the music was cut off entirely as he closed the door, and you took the time to gaze around the spacious studio. It was dark and neat, the far wall made up entirely of windows giving it a modern look, but there was an air of boyish quality to it that made your lips quirk upwards just a tad. The boy -young man, you corrected- was younger than you, but that made him no less handsome, and seeing as he was clearly a good friend of Tony’s, Tony wanted to give him the best.

That was where you came in.

“Shit-! I…I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to ask did you want anything to drink?” he stuttered out, rubbing his hands on his dark slacks.

His nervousness was evident, and you bit back an amused smile as he fought to hold your much more confident gaze.

“No, thank you, but maybe you do…?” you said, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow.

He paused at your light tease before letting out a soft laugh.

“Yeah? Maybe I do,” he agreed, stumbling to the fridge on the other side of the room.

It was clear he was overwhelmed with the options before him, and you got the impression that his impressive stock was not his doing. Your heels clicked along his wood floor as you approached, and you pointed at a red wine.

“I personally like that one,” you told him.

He threw you a sheepish ‘thanks’ before choosing it and setting to work on getting it open. You watched as he poured himself a glass, quickly downing it in one go. You spoke when he started to pour another, hands shaky, and you worried he’d ruin his white button down.

“You know…we don’t have to do anything,” you told him.

His dark eyes snapped to yours, glass halfway to his mouth. He blinked, slowly lowering it to the counter as he gazed at you, relief swimming along his features.

“We don’t?” he breathed, shoulders lowering.

You chuckled, unable to help yourself as you shook your head, pressing your hands onto the counter.

“We don’t. Tony already paid me for the whole night, so honestly…? We could just…talk. I mean…I don’t know anything about you.”

You suddenly blinked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t even know your name,” you said, more to yourself than him.

When you showed up here, all you knew was that Tony had hired you for the night, and seeing as he was a regular of yours, you had been surprised that he would not be your client. He had pointed to the nervous looking young man on the other side of the room and told you that you would be showing the kid a good time, make his night.

“Make him as happy as you make me,” Tony had said.

The rest of the attendees, most of them familiar faces and the rest you assumed were coworkers not on the team, were none the wiser as you had approached the brunette, telling him to lead the way. They’d been too preoccupied with each other or their drink as he walked you up the stairs, but Tony had been ever watchful, heat rising to the unnamed man’s face as the older one saluted him with a drink.

“Peter,” the dark-haired man informed you, and you smiled.

You stuck your hand out, and he hesitantly took it. His hands weren’t as soft as you expected, surprising you.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Y/N,” you told him.

You watched as he repeated the name to himself, and you turned away to walk around the space. The party, or whatever it was, was still going on downstairs, but the upstairs was a studio style loft apartment. You walked past the couch and approached the windows. You could hear Peter behind you, his steps soft.

“Why do I get the feeling I waltzed into a birthday party?” you suddenly wondered, and Peter chuckled.

“You kinda did. I turn 21 today…”

You spun to face him, a bit stunned, but you eventually threw him a blinding smile. You suspected that he was younger than you, but you would have never guessed by that much.

“Well, happy birthday, Peter.”

He blinked, shaking himself out of whatever stupor he seemed to be in before thanking you. He suddenly swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed you.

“You can take off your shoes if you want. You know…get comfortable…”

You smiled to yourself at the nervous look on his face, and you finally decided to comment on it as you stepped out of your heels. You noticed the way his eyes lit up as he took in your true height.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, Peter. What, never spent a night with someone like me before?” you lightly teased.

He didn’t join in as you chuckled, and he suddenly looked embarrassed. You soon found out why.

“I’ve…I’ve never spent the night with anyone…before,” his voice was quiet by the time he finished talking, and your eyes widened.

You looked him over, stunned once again, before blinking. Now things were starting to make a lot more sense, and you wondered what it was with men and rights of passages. Surely, Tony wanted this young man to share his first sexual experience with someone he cared about and not some stranger who is literally getting paid to do it?

“Oh,” you said in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty. “…and here I am teasing you about how nervous-.”

“No, please don’t feel bad! Please,” he begged, nearing you.

You sent him a small smile, and he reluctantly returned it.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve been a lot nicer,” you whispered.

Peter shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he did so.

“You would’ve found out eventually. Besides, why would I? It’s embarrassing,” he said, making you frown.

“Don’t say that,” you told him, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Peter.”

He scoffed, jaw clenching as he frowned at you.

“I’m 21, and I’ve never seen a girl naked. The guys on the- well, the guys…they never stop teasing me about it,” he grumbled, looking out the window.

“Fuck them,” you said, and Peter chuckled. “I didn’t have sex until I was 26.”

He whipped his head around to face you, eyes wide as he took in your confession. You watched the way he ran them over you, shaking his head.

“No way,” he breathed in disbelief.

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What? You think because I make money entertaining men that means I came out of the womb ready to-.”

“No, no,” he hurried to explain. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

He eyed you again, his perusal not so quick now as he slowly traced every curve that your dress did little to hide, eyes darkening ever so slightly. You were surprised to find that you liked that, stomach twisting, and you fought the urge to squirm.

“I just mean…look at you,” he whispered, eyes meeting yours. “You’re gorgeous.”

You’d heard that from many men before, all of them sincere in their assessment, but there was something about the way Peter said it that made your heart flutter. He stated it like it was a universal truth, like he believed it more than he believed anything else in the world. You swallowed and turned to look out of the window, eyes trailing over the skyline.

“I still have to say yes to offers and…I simply didn’t want to. Like I said, lack of experience is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He gave an unsure chuckle.

“Tell that to the guys,” he murmured.

You suddenly smirked before turning to face him, surprised to find his gaze still on you.

“Whether or not we do have sex tonight, you can always lead them to believe that we did.”

He blinked at you, and you shrugged.

“Brag about how your first time was with a woman who made you come 4 times in one night and gave you head that made you see stars. Then you can ask them what their first time was like, and I guarantee you they’ll shut up,” you continued.

Peter’s smile matched your devious one, and you both laughed as you looked away.

“They were all probably bumbling teenagers who came in under 40 seconds and sent the poor girl home sorely disappointed and unsatisfied,” you remarked, rolling your eyes. “Pants around their ankles and all…”

You could feel his eyes on you as he laughed, and you turned to look at him. Peter didn’t look 21. That wasn’t to say that he looked that much older, but there was a hardness to his face that gave away life experience and even wisdom that most 21-yearolds didn’t possess. You certainly hadn’t at that age, but there was a sparkle in his eye, an eager gleam that gave him away though, that revealed his true age.

As if reading your thoughts, Peter suddenly spoke.

“How old are you?”

You smirked at him.

“I just turned 36,” you proudly answered, and Peter blanched.

He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him as he flitted his eyes over you again.

“You don’t look it at all,” he said, and you scoffed.

“Do you think we just keel over and die the minute we turn 35? 36 is still young,” you tsk’d, tapping your finger against his nose.

Your smile fell when he hurried to grab your wrist, hold firm as he halted your movements. He pulled you towards him, and you stumbled as you tripped over your feet, taken aback by his strength. His face was so close to yours, and you could smell the cologne he’d put on that morning.

“That isn’t…that isn’t what I meant,” he quietly replied.

You breathed him in and watched as he darted his tongue out to swipe it over his bottom lip. A dark strand of hair kissed his forehead as his eyes flitted between your wide ones.

“I just meant that I have an aunt. She practically raised me, and she’s not that much older than you, and…,” he trailed off, eyes lingering on your collarbone and lips as he looked you over again, voice lowering. “You don’t look anything like her.”

Despite the way your heart raced, you gathered yourself enough to speak.

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that I don’t remind you of the woman who raised you,” you joked.

Peter didn’t laugh with you, and your heart skipped a beat when he took his free hand and raised it to your shoulder. His fingers danced along your skin as it slid to your collarbone before gliding to the back of your neck, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of it.

“Can I kiss you?”

You gave a slow nod, watching as he seemed to consider something. He licked his lips again, and softly brushed them along yours. Your stomach flipped, the feeling surprising you because Peter was just another client. He was no different from Tony or anyone else, so why did the taste of him have your eyes falling closed of their own accord?

He pulled back, nose brushing yours, and before you could open your eyes, his mouth covered yours in a hungry kiss. You moaned against his lips, unable to help yourself, because while Peter lacked experience in bed, he knew how to take your breath away. Both of his hands were on your neck now, tilting your head to accommodate him, and you had no choice but to follow as he moved back.

You gasped into his mouth when he suddenly spun you, understanding dawning on you when he pressed his hands onto your shoulders. You lowered yourself to his bed, looking up at him and preparing for what you thought he wanted, only to be surprised when he fell to his knees before you.

“W-what are you-?”

“I’ve only done this once,” he said, sliding his hands along your legs and underneath your dress. “…but she really seemed to enjoy it so…”

You watched him as he dragged your underwear down your thighs, carelessly tossing them over his shoulder. You were taken aback by the hungry look in his gaze, heat coiling in your stomach as you realized what was about to happen. He looked at you, face serious, and you blinked, shaking yourself out of whatever daze you seemed to be in. He looked at you like he was waiting, and hesitantly, you laid down.

You swallowed, eyes on the ceiling as he spread your thighs, pushing them towards you as he lowered. You could feel his breath on you, and you involuntarily clenched. It was crazy how long you’d been doing this, and yet, you couldn’t remember the last time a client made you feel so…nervous. There was no more time to think about that because Peter’s tongue tasted you, and you jerked, stomach clenching just before he dove in.

You sharply inhaled as he swirled his tongue around you, lips sucking on your lower ones, and you reached out to twist his bedding in your hands. He moaned against you, the feeling seeming to vibrate throughout your entire body, and you let out a broken moan too. One of his hands let you go, sliding along the bed until it found yours. He placed it on his head before gripping your thigh again, and you did the same with the other as well.

The feel of your fingers in his hair seemed to spur him on, and your eyes rolled as he laved his tongue against you. You could see why some unnamed girl who he was with enjoyed this, and you bit your lip when he slid a finger inside of you. It wasn’t hard to tell that Peter aimed to please, and you hissed when he curled his finger inside of you, pushing another into you. It wasn’t long before you were coming undone on his tongue, and he licked at you like a man starved.

His face was wet when he rose, and chest still heaving, you reached out to pull him into a kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, and you supposed that he earned the right to be smug. His eyes flittered between yours when he pulled away, face flushed as his chest heaved. You opened your mouth to speak when his hand came up to your chin, his fingers running over your lips and smearing what was left of your lipstick.

“Show me…,” he whispered, voice trailing off as he brushed his nose along yours. “Show me how to touch you. How to make you feel good…”

Heat settled into the pit of your stomach as his words hit you, and you laid your hand on his chest. You couldn’t recall ever hearing those words from anyone before. With your profession, most, if not all of the men were hellbent on impressing you. They knew you had other clients, so they were all determined to be your favorite by experimenting, trying out new moves, and even bringing things into the bedroom they’d seen someone use in some crappy porn video.

Every single one of them was always too focused on what you thought of them. Their build, their hands, their stamina. Sure, they wanted to make you come, but at the end of the day, it was more for themselves and their own ego than your actual pleasure, and yet…

Here was Peter, this man who could barely be called that at all, this virgin asking you to show him what women liked. What you liked. He wanted to actually listen and learn, and you thought to yourself that he was going to make a wonderful lover, hell even boyfriend or husband someday.

“Okay,” you said, pushing him back, and he allowed you to do so.

His eyes sparkled as he laid down, gazing up at you as you straddled him. You suddenly felt nervous as you started to unbutton his shirt, and you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt nervous. Not even with Tony, because while, yes, he was the great Tony Stark, he was still a man just like any other. When you got Peter’s shirt open, eyes taking in his muscular figure with surprise, it hit you as to why.

Peter’s first experience with sex was going to be with you. What would happen tonight would set the very foundation for his relationship and feelings with sex forever. How he viewed sex from here on out was entirely up to you, and your shoulders felt incredibly heavy all of a sudden. Peter would always remember you, one way or the other. You danced your fingers along his torso, and Peter reached up to grab your hands.

His eyes were heated when you gazed into them, and you watched the way the corner of his mouth curved upwards. His fingers played with yours, and it was only then did you realized they were trembling. He ran his eyes over you, his gaze lingering on the expanse of your neck before he spoke.

“You seem nervous,” he quietly said, and you bit back a smile.

“…would you believe me if I told you I am?”

You pulled on his hands, and he sat up, slipping out of his shirt and watching as you reached for his pants.

“Why?”

You paused to glance at him.

“My first time was great, but I know that isn’t the case for everyone…most people, to be honest, but I don’t want you to be like most people.”

“I couldn’t possibly not enjoy this,” Peter scoffed, and you shrugged, sliding off of the bed to lower to your knees.

Peter’s hands gripped your shoulders before you could undo his pants, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. His jaw was clenched, gaze intense as he looked down at you, and confusion filled you when he pulled you back up.

“While I’m sure you’re great at that, I really want to be inside of you.”

You chuckled at his eagerness, and he pulled you back onto him, hands sliding your dress up.

“I’ve waited 21 years for this…I’m not waiting another minute,” he murmured, peeling the black material off of you.

He sharply inhaled at the sight of your red bra, the lace complimenting your breasts nicely. You had been under the impression that you were going to be with Tony tonight, and you knew the man liked red. You didn’t know how Peter felt about it, but if the way his dark eyes took you in was anything to go by, you’d say he enjoyed the color red too. Or at least enjoyed it on you.

You kissed him, helping him slip out of his pants, and a gasp escaped your lips as he pulled you onto him, his member hard and warm through his boxers. You looked down, smiling at the silk material, and you got the feeling a certain superhero had gotten them for him. Peter’s hands landed on your waist, and you placed your own over them, sliding them up to your chest.

“Some girls like it rough, but when in doubt, be gentle,” you told him, taking in a shaky breath as he brushed his thumbs over you.

Hearing that, he repeated the action, lips finding your collarbone as he did so. Your lashes fluttered as you ground yourself against him, and Peter let out a broken moan. One of his hands moved to your neck to bring you down into a kiss while the other slid to your back. His hand massaged you, repeating his earlier action as soon as your bra was gone while you reached to rid him of the black material hanging on his waist.

You pushed him back to lay down again, your lace briefs the only thing separating you. That didn’t last long as Peter clutched them in his hand, yanking them down, and you helped him do so. Both of his hands were on your neck now, holding you to him as he moved his mouth against yours, a hiss escaping him as you gripped him in your hand. You opened your eyes to watch his face, your own lips parting when his did, a broken moan climbing out of his throat as you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

Your eyes widened at the feel of him stretching you, and they remained on Peter as he felt the same. You were mesmerized, eyes completely focused on the way his pink lips fell open, back arching ever so slightly as he dug his hands into your waist. He moaned when you moved your hips, hands resting on his chest to anchor yourself.

Peter was vocal and, having been with so many men who were afraid to even say your name in bed, you liked that. Heat swirled in your stomach as you rose again and again, sliding down so that you met his thighs with ease. His lashes fluttered, face flushed as you clenched around him. His jaw ticked, eyes flashing with something before he pulled you down into another kiss.

His lips were hungry, and you swallowed his groans as you continued to move your hips over him. One hand was pressing into your back, the other digging into your waist as you felt him move. You gasped as he started to push his hips up into yours, the drag of his cock making your heart skip a beat. A choked moan escaped you, eyes flying open to find his gaze already on you.

“Y/N,” he groaned, lips peppering kisses against your jaw.

The hand on your back traveled to your hair, lightly tugging at the root, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Deep in the fog of ecstasy, you didn’t register what was happening until Peter had completely lifted his hips, uprooting you until the room was spinning and you found yourself on your back. You sharply exhaled as your back hit his bed and gave a surprised chuckle, his strength throwing you off guard once again.

He seemed to be acting on impulse, suddenly unsure, but the determination in his eyes had you wrapping your legs around his waist. That forced him inside of you to the hilt, and he swallowed, jaw clenching. You leaned up to press a kiss to his throat.

“Do what feels right. It’s okay to take your time,” you whispered.

You felt him nod, and you laid back down, gazing up at him as he held himself above you for a moment. He just remained there, eyes unable to stay in one place for long, unsure of where to look. He pressed his hands into the bed on either side of your head, face taut with both hunger and concentration, hips moving back before meeting yours again.

His thrusts were gentle, a far cry from what you were used to, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of him. After a while, he pushed his knees further up, forcing your legs to fall around him as he pushed them back, and you gasped, hand flying to his back while the other twisted into the sheets. You could feel his eyes on you as your back arched, and you spoke before he could.

“Right there,” you breathed.

Peter listened, holding himself there as he pushed into you, and you threw your head back. You heard him curse, and his lips were on your neck moments later. You could feel yourself fluttering around him, and you knew you were close. The thin layer of sweat that clung to him and the strain on his face told you that Peter had been doing his best to hold off on his own climax, and you rushed to press your lips to his.

“Come for me, Peter. Please,” you whispered into his mouth.

Collapsing against you, he did just that, moaning against your lips. Your own legs trembled at the feel of him twitching inside of you, chest heaving as you clenched around him, and your nails dug into his back. He pressed more kisses into your neck, lips trailing along your shoulder as you came down from your high.

You hadn’t even realized how tired you were until he sat up to look down at you. You tiredly blinked at him, smiling as he kissed you again.

“Happy birthday, Peter,” you murmured, but you didn’t hear his reply.

You were already falling asleep beneath him, a first for you, and you felt his lips on yours as you did so.

You collapsed against him as his arms tightened around your waist, and Peter chuckled into the skin of your shoulder as you continued to flutter around him. His own chest heaved, and you pressed your hands into the damp skin of his back, holding onto him as he flipped you both around. As you bounced on the bed beneath him, you thought to yourself that you’d never get used to his strength.

You had taken Peter Parker’s virginity exactly 2 weeks ago, and since then, he’d become something of a regular client of yours. This wasn’t unusual. First time clients normally kept reserving you for days after the first time. Tony himself had paid for 4 more days with you after your first night together, but no one had ever done so for 2 weeks straight. You’d think that with his newfound experience, Peter would take this opportunity to explore. Surely, he had some girl in his life he was interested in. But no, the young man was content to pay for you every night.

You’d come by last night, but Peter had gotten into the habit of waking you up in a way that was hard to hate. The morning after his birthday, you’d taken it upon yourself to wake him up with your mouth on his cock, and he’d been returning the favor ever since. You had a little time before you had to go, and you watched as Peter got up to make his way to the kitchen. You frowned a bit, holding the sheet to you as you watched him search his cabinets.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you breakfast,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It wouldn’t be the first time, but you didn’t want to make a habit out of it.

“Peter,” you groaned. “Stop that. You don’t have to-.”

“Fifteen minutes,” he pleaded, eyes wide as they met yours, begging you.

You bit your lip at his pleading gaze, eyes sparkling, and you let out a sigh. You nodded, clutching the sheet to you as you made your way over to him. He was beaming by the time you reached him, and you grazed your fingers down his arm.

“Peter, you already pay me for sex. You don’t have to make it up to me by cooking or anything-.”

“I want to,” he interrupted, grinning at you. “…and not just to ‘pay you back’.”

His eyes roamed over your face before pressing his lips to yours.

“You’re amazing. How can I not?” he murmured into your mouth.

“Well, of course I’m amazing. It’s my job,” you replied, hoping to remind him what this was.

You watched as he frowned, face pinching as he shook his head, ruffling his brown hair.

“Don’t…don’t say it like that,” he complained.

“Well, that’s how it is,” you sang, placing a kiss on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “This is my job, Peter.”

He sighed, back rising and falling with the action.

“I know,” he sadly said. “…but…when it’s just the two of us…it doesn’t feel like it, you know?”

You did know.

Peter definitely wasn’t the first to say that, but he was the first you agreed with. Peter had a way of making you forget that you were currently working, and that wasn’t exactly a good thing. Getting attached to clients, and vice versa, was highly discouraged for so many reasons, but in Peter’s case, it was expected. He had been a virgin, and he was young, so you expected him to develop some sort of attachment to you, but it had been weeks. You’d give it another or so before his feelings waned.

They were superficial, after all.

After you two ate, you finally got dressed, Peter’s eyes on you the entire time you did so. He walked with you out of his apartment and downstairs, kissing you goodbye. He was reluctant to pull away, but you sent him a parting smile when he finally did.

The only reason Peter hadn’t reserved you for tonight was because of some prior engagement that he couldn’t get out of. At least, that was what he told you, but you had your own suspicions. He was much stronger than he looked, and that coupled with the fact that he seemed to be incredibly close with Tony led you to believe that the man was a hero himself. Of course, you weren’t sure as to who, but it wasn’t a concern of yours. He had an identity to keep, and you understood that.

Being a high-end escort for incredibly wealthy clients paid exceptionally well, and with hours to spare before your next arrangement, you took the time to shower and relax. You hadn’t had many moments to yourself since Peter, and you found yourself absentmindedly smiling as you thought of the younger man.

He was unlike anyone else that you’d ever been with, and that was saying something. Peter was always so eager, and not just for sex, but to please you as well. He’d become quite the impressive lover since that first night, taking all of your advice to heart, and there were moments where you swore he got more pleasure out of seeing you come undone than anything else.

Hours later, when you slipped on your dress and got started on your hair, you wondered to yourself how different tonight would be. You hadn’t been with anyone else but Peter in weeks, and you were sure that your client tonight just wouldn’t compare. You had to get rid of such thoughts, reminding yourself that this was just a job, and it would do no good to start comparing all of your other clients to Peter.

You were in your car and halfway across town when you got a call from your boss, the woman who ran the company you worked for. You answered the call, Bluetooth connected, and her voice filled your car moments later.

“Bad news, Y/N. Your client cancelled,” was the first thing she said.

You frowned, taken aback by that not just because it had never happened to you before, but also because payment was nonrefundable. The company you worked for prided themselves on a guaranteed experience.

“He…canceled? Does he know that-?”

“Believe me, he knows. I asked him several times to make sure, but he insisted that something came up that couldn’t be ignored. I’m guessing a family emergency or maybe even problems with a wife,” she sighed.

You rolled your eyes, lip curling in disgust. A job was a job, but you absolutely despised the married men you had to service, and it always took everything in you to keep a straight face whenever you noticed the tan line on their ring finger.

“Should I keep you available for tonight? We have plenty of girls on call, but its up to you,” she offered, and you sighed.

You were already dolled up and out, but there was no telling when or where your next client would be. You didn’t want to wait around all night nor drive all over town just for an arrangement.

“No,” you said, exhaling. “I guess I’ll enjoy this rare night off.”

She was fine with that, and the car was silent once again as you hung up. You made your way to a restaurant, one of your favorites, telling yourself you’d enjoy a nice night out with yourself. You were grateful that you’d put on a more modest dress, something classy that didn’t attract too much attention as you were shown to a table.

The waitress had just left to get you a bottle of Chardonnay when a shadow fell over you. You didn’t think too much of it, but there was a presence near you that couldn’t be ignored, and you were just about to look up when he spoke.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your eyes were wide as they met familiar dark ones, and your mouth parted in shock.

“Peter! How…?”

You glanced around, confusion filling you.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged.

“I told you. I had something I couldn’t get out of, but it was taken care of much quicker than I thought it’d be. I saw you come in and wanted to say hi,” he said with a crooked smile, pushing his hair back into place away from his forehead.

You ran your eyes over him, smiling at the tux he wore, appreciating the way it hugged his frame.

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” you complimented.

His face flushed, and he briefly looked down. How he could still act so bashful around you was a mystery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t endearing.

“So…? Is this seat taken?” he repeated when his eyes met yours again.

You faltered, at war with yourself.

“No…but… I don’t think its such a good idea,” you told him.

He frowned a bit, and guilt flooded your frame as his shoulders fell.

“Why not?” he quietly asked, genuinely confused.

You sighed, rubbing the side of your neck, and Peter’s dark eyes were drawn to the action.

“You’re my client,” you whispered, glancing around. “We really shouldn’t develop anything outside of that.”

He playfully rolled his eyes.

“It’s one dinner. I’m starving, and you’re starving, and we’re both here…,” he trailed off, and you let out a chuckle at his logic.

He raised an eyebrow at you, a look on his face that told you he knew he had you. With a sigh, you gave a reluctant nod, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“No, it isn’t taken.”

He sat down with a grin, and you noticed the cut on the side of his face, the shallow wound bleeding just a bit. That only added to your suspicions, and you reached across the table with a napkin. He seemed surprised before a sheepish look fell over his face.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“How did you even get past the door?” you wondered, settling into your seat.

His eyes swept over the menu, and he hummed before glancing up at you from beneath his lashes, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“I’m 21, now, remember?”

You nodded with a small chuckle, a smirk crawling over your own lips.

“Of course. How could I forget?”

You both ordered as soon as the waitress returned, and you sipped on the alcohol in your glass as Peter watched you. You looked at him curiously.

“What?”

He shook his head, a soft look on his face as he took in everything from your hair to your lip gloss.

“You just look really pretty,” he said, making your face heat up. “I doubt you got all dolled up to eat alone.”

You set your wine down, straightening just as your food arrived. You finally responded when the woman left.

“No, I didn’t,” you admitted. “I had a client tonight, but he cancelled. A first really, but all the more strange considering we don’t do refunds.”

His eyes were on you as you shrugged, and you watched the way he looked away. Peter didn’t look like himself at all in his sharp tuxedo, dark hair smoothly pushed back to expose his forehead. His pink lips were pursed, jaw clenched as he seemed to be stewing on something. You glanced away just as he looked at you, not wanting to be caught checking him out.

“How many clients do you have?” he wondered, picking at his food.

You hummed.

“Well…if we’re only talking about regulars, including you, that makes 9.”

He bit his lip at that, nodding.

“I see.”

Neither one of you said anything for a while as you both ate, just enjoying each other’s company. You got the feeling that something was weighing on Peter’s mind, but you didn’t want to pressure him into talking about anything he wasn’t comfortable with.

“Is…is Mr. Stark one of your regulars?” he finally asked, face unreadable.

You took a sip of wine before answering.

“He is. Although, I haven’t seen him in weeks thanks to you,” you said with a teasing grin.

He glanced away, doing nothing to hide his smirk. His dark eyes glanced around the restaurant, taking in the nice scenery before he spoke again.

“Are there girls with only one client?”

He seemed to be really interested in your job tonight, but you were more than happy to answer any of his questions.

“Mm…not at my agency. It isn’t unheard of, especially for women like me who deal with more upscale clients who can afford exclusivity, but it isn’t really encouraged,” you said with a shake of your head.

His brows furrowed.

“Why not?”

You sighed.

“Things happen, things can go wrong, and if you lose that client, you basically have to start from scratch with building a clientele. Of course, you’ll get clients, but collecting regulars is how you keep your money consistent.”

Peter hummed at that, nodding in understanding before flagging down a nearby server for another bottle. You tilted your head at him, and he smiled.

“My treat,” he said, and who were you to refuse?

An entire hour had gone by, and you were finally leaving the restaurant. Your arm was looped through Peter’s as you hung onto him, almost wobbling in your heels. You’d had much more to drink than you intended, but fortunately for you, Peter was as sober as a saint.

“This is so embarrassing,” you groaned as Peter walked you outside, and he chuckled.

“I think you’re cute when you’re drunk,” he replied, and you rolled your eyes.

“Of course, you do,” you mumbled, looking around with a frown. “How did you get here?”

You had a feeling he didn’t drive, and Peter simply shrugged as he looked at you, hands on your arms now as you faced him.

“That’s a secret,” was his only reply.

You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in as your drunk brain took control of your sober mouth.

“You’re one of them…aren’t you? A superhero,” you whispered, and Peter’s grin widened. “You’re much stronger than you look.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Are you complaining?”

You shook your head.

“Definitely not. Although…I suppose that can be a little concerning, but there are no complaints here.”

Your ankle bent as you took a step forward, and you would have gone straight down if it weren’t for Peter. With a smirk, he wrestled your keys out of your hand, holding them tightly in his as he curled an arm around your waist.

“Okay, so I’m obviously driving you home,” he said, and you tilted your head at him.

Your eyes were narrowed, skeptical as you trailed them over his frame.

“Can you even drive?” you mockingly said, but you were also half serious.

It was a genuine question. Peter said nothing as he walked you to your passenger door, depositing you in the seat before buckling you in.

“Watch me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You pressed your hand to your head as he shut the door, unable to remember the last time you had gotten drunk. It wasn’t a feeling you liked, but Peter was here so you allowed yourself to relax. Your head lolled back as he started the car, and you started to mumble out directions. You found that Peter was a good driver. Hell, maybe even better than you, and you felt more than safe with him behind the wheel, a lighthearted conversation flowing between you two as one of his hands rested on your thigh.

He practically carried you upstairs to your apartment, something about too scared to let you walk. He dropped your keys onto the table next to the door as soon as you were inside, and you stumbled away from him as you dug into your purse for your phone.

“Let me call you a cab to get you home,” you murmured, head spinning a bit.

He didn’t say anything, but you heard him approach you, steps heavy. You suddenly blinked, thinking with a frown.

“…or should I call Tony?” you wondered to yourself before shaking your head. “No, a cab. It’s the least…I…can do…”

Your words got quieter as Peter wrapped his arms around you, swallowing them altogether as he turned you around to face him. His eyes were dark, face entirely serious as he stepped forward, only stopping when your back hit the wall. You looked at him in mild surprise, swallowing when one of his hands came up to grip the back of your neck.

“Peter…”

Your voice trailed off when he leaned in to press his lips to your jaw, trailing kisses down to your neck. Your lashes fluttered, and you pressed a hand to his chest.

“Peter…we can’t,” you breathed.

Getting attached to clients was discouraged, but this? Having sex with any outside of work? That was just plain stupid and asking for a disaster to happen. There was no telling what your boss would do if she found out. Peter slid his leg between yours, thigh brushing against you in a way that had you releasing a shaky breath.

“Sounds like we can,” he hummed, and you shook your head, pushing him away.

“No. If my boss found out-.”

“Then they won’t find out,” he said, pressing his chest against yours, one hand digging into your waist. “Please…”

His eyes glinted with need, and you got the feeling he was barely holding himself back.

“Peter-.”

“If it’s that important to you, I’ll pay you,” he whispered, voice thick with desperation. “I don’t care, just…”

He attached his lips to your neck, pressing his thigh more firmly against you.

“Just let me touch you,” he practically begged.

His mouth found yours again, and you pressed your hand against his chest again, but he wouldn’t budge. The alcohol coursing through your system made your movements slow, and you could only moan as he ground himself against you, holding you in his arms.

“Peter,” you weakly protested as he took a step back, taking you with him.

He ignored you, pressing his back to the wall as he kept you pinned against him, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth. Your purse slipped from your hands, clattering to the floor, and Peter groaned deep in his throat as he lifted you.

You reached out to grab onto the walls as he made his way through your apartment, fingers slipping off of the surface. You gasped when your back met the surface of your couch, Peter’s frame fitting perfectly between your legs. You couldn’t remember who undressed who, but Peter was quick to slip his fingers into you as soon as your underwear were gone, his other hand resting on your neck.

You felt his eyes on you when you finally came around his fingers, unable to swallow down your moans, and Peter’s lips were parted when you looked at him. You watched, transfixed, as he stuck them in his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or not, but you found that twice as attractive as you normally did.

Eager to be inside of you, Peter wasted no more time before pushing into you with one smooth thrust. You threw your head back as Peter cursed, one hand immediately digging into the arm of the couch beside your head, hips snapping against yours. His other hand grabbed your leg, bending it and pushing it towards your chest, making your lashes flutter.

“Peter,” you murmured, pressing your nails into his chest.

He hummed, leaning down to steal a kiss, groaning when you clenched around him. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the way Peter was pushing himself into you so deliciously, teeth nipping at your lips and fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise. You would think that you hadn’t fucked him in weeks with the way he held you, hips slapping against yours.

When you came around him for a second time, you couldn’t even tell which way was up, face pressed into the couch cushions now as Peter pinned your chest down with a hand on your back, ass lifted to take his unrelenting thrusts. Your breaths only slowed when you felt him pull out, coming on your back as his own labored breathing filled your ears.

Your body felt so heavy, alcohol and fatigue coursing through you, but Peter didn’t care as he stood, pulling you against him. He wrapped his arms around you as he pressed his chest against your back, walking you in the direction of your room.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” he wondered, lips finding the back of your ear as he placed kisses on your skin.

Your feet tripped over each other, vision blurry as you struggled to stay conscious.

“Not…not until the evening,” you breathed, a broken moan slipping from your lips when his fingers dipped into you.

He laughed to himself, a triumphant sound as he forced you through the doorway.

“Good.”

He kicked the door shut behind him.

It was a windy evening in New York as you hurriedly made your way to Stark Tower. A shiver tore through you as the cool air hit you, and you were thankful when you made it inside. The identification process took only seconds, what with you frequently being here and all. It felt like forever since you’d seen Tony, and you supposed that by his standards, it had been. You usually saw him at least once a week, and you had gone weeks without doing so.

However, the last person you expected to see when entering the building was the one who was the very reason for that. Peter looked just as stunned to see you, and you didn’t know if it was because you were here at Stark Tower or because you hadn’t seen him in about a week. After your drunken night with him, you’d taken it upon yourself to ask your boss to book you with anyone as soon as possible and for as long as possible.

The night you’d spent with Peter had left you so conflicted. Despite the alcohol that had been coursing through your system, you remembered everything. More importantly, you remembered that you hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 o’clock that morning. Your skin still prickled every time you thought about that night, body heating up as you remembered the way he touched you, and that…was not good. Never mind the fact that you shouldn’t have slept with him anyway. So…you needed time away from him to clear your head and try to get your own feelings back on track.

Peter shook his head, blinking as he broke himself out of his stupor before grinning at you. You returned it, although yours wasn’t as bright, but he didn’t seem to mind. He neared you and started to reach for you before thinking better of it and pulling away.

“Hey,” he said after clearing his throat.

“Hey,” you echoed, adjusting your purse over your shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Somehow, he wasn’t expecting you to ask that, and as he struggled to answer, you were reminded of your suspicions. With a soft chuckle, you shook your head, signaling for him to let it go. You didn’t need an explanation.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered.

“Working,” you said with a sheepish shrug, noticing the way his smile fell a bit.

Peter shoved his hands into his pocket as he nodded.

“Oh. Who-?”

“There you are! I was just about to call because you were supposed to be here-.”

Tony cut himself off as he registered Peter’s presence, slowing down as he neared you both. Peter had turned to look over his shoulder just as Tony had started talking, and you reluctantly stepped past him as Tony reached for you.

“I thought you left, kid,” the billionaire said, brows drawn together.

Peter’s smile was completely gone now as he looked between you two, and you avoided his eyes. For some reason, you felt like you were doing something wrong even though you weren’t. This was your job. You had nothing to feel bad about.

“Yeah, I was-I was just heading out and then I ran into Y/N,” he replied, voice low.

He continued before Tony had a chance to reply, hurriedly backing away.

“I’ll see you later, Mr. Stark.”

He waved you both goodbye, and you followed as Tony pulled you along. The dark-haired man was saying something to you as you neared the elevator, but you didn’t hear a word. You glanced over your shoulder just as the doors slid open, eyes briefly meeting Peter’s dark ones just before Tony pulled you inside.

“You look good,” Tony told you as soon as the doors closed.

You forced a smirk onto your lips, forcing thoughts of Peter away as you leaned against the wall.

“I wish I could say the same. You look like hell,” you teased, and Tony playfully rolled his eyes.

It was a half-truth because aside from the suave suit he had on, he did look more tired than usual. One of the cons of being a superhero you supposed.

“Well, I have you to thank for that,” he complained, and now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Oh, don’t pout. It’s so unbecoming. I can’t help it that I’m in high demand,” you replied with a shrug.

“Is that what you’d call it?” he wondered, one eyebrow quirked upwards. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“…and yet somehow you managed,” you said with a smile.

“Barely,” he mumbled just as the numbers stopped.

He pulled you into his side as you exited the elevator, hand briefly curled around your waist as he gave you an affectionate squeeze. Tony left you to go to the bar, and you shed your coat, sitting your purse down as you glanced around. Tony hadn’t done any redecorating, you disdainfully noticed. His taste was so flashy.

“So…,” he lowly sang, and you turned to face him.

He was raising an eyebrow at you as he fixed you a drink, and you frowned in confusion.

“So what?”

Tony scoffed.

“The kid. His 21st birthday. How’d it go?” he wondered. “I did promise him a night he wouldn’t forget.”

You scrunched your face up, shaking your head as you neared him, heels clicking against the floor.

“First of all, can you please stop referring to him as ‘the kid’? It’s a little weird considering I’ve seen him naked,” you commented.

Tony pulled a disgusted look at that, and you chuckled, happily taking the drink he offered.

“…and second of all…”

You took a sip, smirking at him as another chuckle bubbled in your throat.

“…it’s a little insulting considering he has quickly become my favorite client,” you whispered.

You bit your lip, swallowing down a laugh as Tony froze, looking at you like you’d grown a second head. He looked equal parts shocked and insulted, but you simply shrugged, turning away from him.

“How’d that happen?”

Was it you or did he sound bitter?

“What can I say? Peter’s a fast learner. Plus, he’s just so darn sweet.”

You heard Tony approach you, and he scoffed.

“Are you saying I’m not sweet? Do I not get you flowers and the best food there is?”

You rolled your eyes at him before tilting your head as you heard your phone buzzing. You neared your bag as you answered him.

“Look, Tony, I like you and all, and as far as business goes, you’re a great client, but let’s face it.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you wrapped your hand around your phone.

“…you’re kind of an asshole.”

He grumbled as you laughed, but it died in your throat as you read the text from your boss. Taking note of your silence, Tony commented on it.

“What is it?” his voice was in your ear as you stood, and you blinked as you read the message for a third time, confusion filling you.

“I…have to go,” you told him, but it sounded more like a question.

It took a minute for Tony to register what you said before he blinked a few times.

“…what?”

“I have to go? Apparently, a client offered three times my rate to spend the night with me,” you explained as you slid your coat back on.

“You’re kidding,” Tony spat.

You threw him an apologetic look while you secured the belt around your waist.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I know it’s been a while-.”

“Weeks,” he interrupted.

“I know, I know, but there’s no way my boss was going to turn this down, and therefore, I’d be crazy to do so too. She’s sending one of the other girls over,” you called over your shoulder, hurrying towards the elevator.

You heard him heave an annoyed sigh, and as you faced him, you mouthed ‘sorry’ just before the elevator doors closed. It was cooler when you stepped outside, but your mind was too hung up on who could have possibly paid that much money for a night with you. You read the address one more time, realizing that you were familiar with that hotel before sliding into your car.

It wasn’t too far down the street, and just as your boss said, the room was under your name. It was one of the nicer suites, but it was empty of anyone else, and you frowned in confusion, wondering if you’d gotten it wrong. However, the red lacy garments on the bed told you otherwise. Having already showered before going to see Tony, you got undressed and hesitantly put them on.

Just as you were sitting down and pulling the sheer thigh high tights up your legs, you heard the door open. You briefly froze before glancing up only for your mouth to part in shock. You sat up straight, completely thrown and confused as your eyes met his.

“Peter?”

He simply shrugged at you, and you noticed that he’d changed. He didn’t look anything like the boyish collegian you saw earlier, but instead he reminded you of that drunken night. You ran your eyes over his dark attire, a question on your lips, but he beat you to it.

“I missed you.”

You briefly closed your eyes, letting out a sigh as your shoulders fell.

“Peter,” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know what you’re going to say, but you can’t make me not miss you,” he said, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

He moved to sit down next to you, and you hesitantly looked at him. His dark eyes drank you in, and he suddenly smiled at you.

“…besides, I paid this time.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, and you shook your head.

“Where did you even get the money-?”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on,” he said, grabbing you and pulling you along with him as he moved up the bed.

You glanced at him, confused, when he pulled you into his arms, your head laying on his chest.

“Did you really pay all of this money and pick out fancy lingerie just to cuddle with me, Peter?”

Your voice was disbelieving, and you swallowed a laughed as he hummed an affirmative.

“…for now, anyway.”

You sighed, listening to his heart beneath his chest. It was beating so fast, and you wondered if you made him nervous.

“You know, Tony’s going to be more upset than he already was if he finds out that you stole me away just to cuddle,” you whispered.

He didn’t immediately respond, and you lifted your head to look at him. His face was unreadable, and he wouldn’t meet your eye, but he eventually sighed.

“Would you…would you ever exclusively see me?”

You frowned at him, rearing back a bit as you fully sat up. You ran your eyes over his face, trying to find the humor, but there wasn’t any. You scooted away from him, and he sighed again.

“Peter…”

“I like you-.”

“No.”

“I do!” he argued.

“You…can’t. This is my job,” you sadly said as you looked at him. “Nothing more.”

He frowned at you, skeptical.

“It is to me.”

You looked away from him, wishing this were a bad dream because this was truly something out of your nightmares. You cursed yourself for being so foolish to think of Peter’s feelings as shallow. You should have anticipated that it would be more.

“It’s more than that, and I know you feel it too.”

He reached for your hand, and you pulled away, moving to stand.

“Maybe…maybe I should go,” you whispered.

“No, no, wait,” he hurried to say, rushing to follow you, grabbing your hand.

You looked down at him, guilt eating away at you at the look on his face, but he blinked, and it was gone. He forced a smile onto his lips as he tilted his head at you.

“I’m sorry. Please stay. Don’t… Don’t go,” he quietly begged.

You swallowed, conflicted, and you glanced at the door.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…”

You watched him as he trailed off, clearly struggling with his words.

“You’re just so…pretty, you know? You’re this gorgeous and experienced woman, and you…you don’t make me feel like me. Like boring Peter Parker-.”

“Peter,” you quietly admonished, face falling at his self-depreciating words.

“I am lame. I keep my head in books and I’m obsessed with science and…”

He pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach.

“You’re like one of those nymphs I read about in Greek stories that have this otherworldly beauty and they entrance men and…you’re interested in me, you know?” he mumbled. “Even without the money, you find me attractive and sexy and I just feel so great when I’m with you.”

He looked up at you, eyes apologetic as a brown strand brushed along his forehead.

“I just got caught up in that. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

You sighed, shoulders dropping as you nodded, accepting his apology.

“…come back to bed…please…”

Reluctantly, you joined him as he slid back, pulling you onto his lap. He ran his eyes over your face before slowly pressing his lips to yours. His fingers played with the lace on your figure, and you sighed into his mouth as he brushed his fingers over you.

“I really like this,” he said, lips brushing yours. “I don’t wanna ruin it.”

You both chuckled at that, and he helped you undress, eager to do the same for himself. You happily wrapped your legs around his waist as he rolled the both of you over, Peter’s hands dancing over your frame. You didn’t want to give Peter the idea that you could ever be anything more, but it was hard to think about how you’d go about that when he thrust into you so deliciously.

His hands never strayed from you once, hips slamming into yours as you held onto him. He moaned into your mouth when your nails scraped against his back and arms. You don’t know how long Peter fucked you, but he seemed determined to get his money’s worth. His teeth left marks, and his hand was tightening around your neck when you came around him for a second time. Even when he finally stilled against you, hips slamming against yours for a final time, he didn’t want to let you go.

His fingers dug into your waist as he pulled you against his chest, lips trailing kisses over your shoulder and neck as sleep claimed you.

The weeks that followed were…strange. Your life carried on as it normally did, but Peter’s presence no longer made you as comfortable as it did before. At first, it was just memories of the night he’d swiped you out from underneath Tony. You didn’t know how to act around him, afraid you’d give him the wrong idea and encourage his feelings. However, it quickly became more than just that.

Some mornings, you’d find yourself dragging yourself to the bathroom before examining the bruises he’d left behind in the mirror. They kind of hurt, but considering your suspicions about Peter, you thought that maybe he didn’t realize his own strength. Then of course there was the common coincidence of running into him while you were out, usually on the way to meet a client.

You’d been late 4 times already because of him, and of course, you’d gotten complaints. Your boss wasn’t exactly thrilled with you at the moment, but every time you ran into Peter, you just weren’t able to shake him. Even outside of the bedroom, he just took up so much of your time. He always seemed to be everywhere, and something nagged in the back of your mind that it wasn’t coincidence, but against your better judgement, you ignored it.

This morning was one of those mornings where you woke up sore, and you groaned as you rolled over. You heard Peter move behind you, arm resting on your hip as his lips met your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he whispered, sleep still in his voice.

You greeted him the same and sighed.

“I have to get an early start today,” you told him, moving to sit up.

Peter liked to cook breakfast for you whenever you spent a night with him, but you wouldn’t have time this morning. However, he had other ideas.

“No,” he groaned, pulling you back down.

A chuckle left your lips, this behavior not at all unusual, but you waved it off.

“Seriously, Peter, I have to go-.”

Your words were swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat. You pressed your hand to his chest as he covered your form with his own.

“Peter,” you protested, pushing against him as you felt him brush against you.

He ignored you as if you hadn’t said anything, hands roughly grabbing yours before pinning them down. A frown fell over your face at his actions, and you opened your mouth to tell him this wasn’t funny when he slid into you with one thrust.

You gasped, both in shock at the sudden action, and in horror as you registered what was happening. Peter’s lips met yours again, and you pushed against his hold with no avail. Your body had grown accustomed to his, had grown to welcome and crave his even, so you were unsurprised when he started to push into you more smoothly than he did a minute ago.

You bit his tongue when it slapped past your lips, and he pulled away from you with a frown. His hips didn’t falter once, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you clenched around him, and he hissed at that.

“You love the way I feel inside of you,” he groaned. “Even if you pretend that you don’t.”

“Get off,” you cried, a sob stuck in your chest.

He finally stopped, and he looked down at you with a harsh frown, eyes somehow darker than usual.

“Why?” he rudely asked. “So you can leave?”

“Yes,” you spat, and he flinched.

“I’m so tired of watching you leave me,” he quietly said, teary eyed. “I’m sick of it. Sick of watching you leave me again and again just to go fuck someone else.”

“It’s my job.”

Peter didn’t like your response, and he resumed his actions, making you throw your head back in frustration, trying to fight off the pleasure he was forcing onto you. Your wrists were sore under his harsh grip, and tears escaped as his lips nipped at your jaw, neck, chest, anywhere he could reach.

“I fuck you better than all of them. You said so yourself,” he murmured, hips meeting yours.

His lips brushed along your neck, and you could feel him smirk.

“…even better than Mr. Stark.”

You were in disbelief that this was happening, and even when he spilled into you, rolling off of you with a heaving chest, you were still in disbelief.

Disgusted and angry, you stomped out of bed, but you could hear Peter right behind you. He grabbed you as you reached for your clothes and purse, forcing you to face him as his fingers dug into your arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed at him, fighting to get out of his hold. “I don’t want you anywhere near me. What the hell is wrong with you, Peter?”

His brows furrowed, nostrils flaring.

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he whispered.

“Yeah, well, last night you weren’t a fucking rapist,” you said, pushing against him. “I’m going to have you arrested.”

He let you go, and you stumbled away from him, hurriedly putting on your clothes.

“Someone would have to believe you in order for that to happen,” Peter quietly said, making you freeze.

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head, disbelief coursing through you. It was hard to wrap your head around what he said, and you blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Peter looked conflicted, jaw clenching as he eyed you, but it seemed his desire to have you outweighed his morals.

“Don’t do this, Y/N…because who is going to believe you when I have Tony Stark on my side?”

You reared back, frowning at him. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you felt fresh tears collect.

“I have plenty of people on my side. Plenty who will believe me. I have clients-.”

“The men who pay you to fuck them? Yeah, I’m sure they’re all upstanding gentlemen who will quickly come to the aid of an escort crying sexual assault! They don’t care about you,” he yelled, making you flinch. “You’re nothing to them but a hole with a pretty face.”

Your heart clenched at his harsh words, and he slowly approached you.

“…but not me. You’re more than that to me, Y/N, please-!”

He cut himself off as you brushed past him.

“I don’t care. I’ll report you to whoever I have to until I find someone who believes me,” you threw over your shoulder.

You reached the door just as white webbing flew past you to cover the handle. You froze again, eyes wide as you took it in, terrified to have your suspicions confirmed in the worst way possible. The knowledge that you were stuck in a room with a superhero, a dangerous one who could probably kill you, made you take a deep breath.

“So…you’re Spider-Man,” you whispered, more to yourself than him.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet somehow, you were.

“I am.”

You slowly turned to face him, back pressed to the door as you eyed him. He was still naked, dark hair pushed away from his face as he gazed at you with a look that made you uncomfortable. Your lips trembled, fear gripping you as you shook your head, tears falling now.

“What do you want from me?” you tearfully asked him.

“I want you! I just…”

He hurried towards you, and you pressed yourself further into the door.

“I just want you,” he murmured. “I want all of you.”

More tears fell, even as he wiped them away, and you pushed against him.

“I can’t…I can’t just be with you. I have a job and-.”

“Quit it.”

You looked at him like he was crazy, but his face was entirely serious, and you both fought over your purse as he suddenly reached for it. He snatched your phone out of your hand as soon as you grabbed it, one hand pressed into your chest as he held it up.

“Call your job…and quit,” he lowly said, tone leaving no room for arguments.

You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of how to respond. Would Peter hurt you? Hell, he’d already raped you so maybe you shouldn’t put it past him.

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here. I just want to be with you,” he whispered.

He huffed when you still made no move to do as he said, and he swallowed, eyes boring into yours.

“Your parents are divorced, and your father is living in Colorado while your mom is enjoying her single life down in Florida,” he started, making your eyes widen in shock. “Your dad has a steady girlfriend he sees regularly whose usually at his house, but your mom…she lives alone.”

“Peter,” you whispered, stomach churning.

“Don’t make me be the bad guy,” he begged. “Just quit your job and be with me. It’s that simple.”

There were so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to know what happened to the sweet guy you’d met on his 21st birthday. You wanted to know why he couldn’t just be satisfied with what you had. You wanted to ask him what kind of relationship the two of you could even have? Not just with the age gap, but with what he’d done to you? However, with his not so subtle threat against your parents, you simply took your phone and did as he said with Peter watching you the whole time.

The minute you were done, he couldn’t get his hands on you fast enough, and what other choice did you have but to let him do what he wanted to you? His hands and lips were everywhere, and against your will, he made you come again and again as he fucked you against his sheets. Peter didn’t seem to care that you trembled in fear every time he so much as looked at you, as long as you were with him.

When he made you come for the umpteenth time that night, his face between your legs, that was when you finally passed out. You could have slept for an entire day for all you knew, but when you woke up, the smell of breakfast reached your nose, and you groggily opened your eyes to find Peter nearing you with a plate of food.

You warily eyed him as he perched himself in front of you, heart skipping a beat as he reached for your face. He awkwardly dropped his hand when you simply stared at him, and he sent you a sheepish smile.

“I made you breakfast,” he told you, sitting the plate in your lap when you sat up.

You continued to eye him as he sat there, and he eventually sighed before standing. He neared you, and you couldn’t stop the way you flinched, but he leaned down anyway, pressing his lips to your forehead. He remained there, deeply inhaling as he breathed you in.

“I know you think I’m a bad guy, but I don’t care…because you’re finally mine,” he murmured against your skin.

He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, your eyes meeting his, and a small smirk danced along his lips.

“…all mine.”

~

tags: @harryspet​ @mcudarklibrary​ @darkficreposter​ @xoxabs88xox​ @nickyl316h​ @readermia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @honeychicanawrites​ @honeychicana​ @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​ @hurricanerin​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @sherrybaby14​ @darealblasian​

[wirewitchviolet]

Let’s talk a bit about “trans activists.”

There's a lot of weird pervasive myths and propaganda floating around about "trans activists" from people who consider me to be such, and the various unreasonable things we get up to. So, have a big autobiographical dose of reality to balance things out with?

So once upon a time, my parents had a kid, and there was a bit of ambiguity on the whole "it's a boy!" vs. "it's a girl!" front. In a lot of cases like this, what happens is they take the baby into another room, do some quick genital surgery, and try to get things to a point where "it's a girl" feels like a sensible proclamation, never tell anyone, and leave that kid to grow up dealing with a lot of health issues they have no explanation for. I was lucky enough not to be put through that, or at least they stopped early, and got the "it's a boy" treatment after some deliberation. Little "M" on the birth certificate and all that.

Jumping forward a few years, if you were to see me running around outside, you'd have seen a pretty normal little girl. This is something that doesn't generally get talked about with trans people, but it's remarkably consistent if you look through old childhood photos and such. If someone tells you she's a trans woman and busts out the photo album, you are going to see a bunch of pictures of what's clearly a little girl, dressed in kind of boyish clothes. Likewise, trans men have photo albums with little boys running around, maybe in girly looking clothes with their hair too long. It's a thing.

My father in particular very much noticed this, and saw this as a problem he had to correct, because he'd been given a bill of goods for a son and wasn't about to accept any sort of substitutions there. So he opted to be horrifically abusive, just sort of throwing everything at the wall to see what stuck in terms of "making a proper man out of me" like dragging me to Hooter and trying to get me drinking beer and driving early and whatnot and like, I want to be clear in saying this is when I was a freaking toddler. He was all the way out of my life before I was anywhere near puberty, and at the time I had no clue what his angle was with any of this, just that I did not feel at all safe in his care and ended up in the emergency room pretty often. It's only on much more recent reflection with the benefit of a lot of hindsight I see what his angle was.

Anyway, eventually I go to public school, whereupon I am outright physically assaulted more or less on a daily basis by gangs of people for most of the next 13 years. That's not me saying "I got in a lot of fights." I never got into a single fight. Never had a single argument. Generally speaking I didn't really make eye contact with anyone and did my best to fully avoid other children and just read books and such, but I was in that odd position where I clearly read as extremely feminine, and yet did not have the official classification of being a girl which meant that bullies, by whatever the hell instinct or training it is that motivates being such, saw me as weak and vulnerable to attack, but also that being the absolute shit out of me would not get them in trouble for "hitting a girl" so... seriously it was just open season. Packs of them would surround me shove me to the ground, and stand in a circle kicking me in the kidneys. Individuals would throw rocks at my back when passing behind me. Later on when prison dramas were kind of picking up as a thing, there was a big trend of sharpening pencils to a good point and stabbing me with them when I was at my locker. Years of this. Eventually it stopped because I'd taken to wearing a big thick coat all year round and never took it off because it was heavily padded, and irresponsible reporting on the Columbine shooting encouraged people to profile anyone who lacked friends at school and wear long dark coats. There was of course no actual basis for that, but once people got it into their heads that I might shoot up the school they were at least a little more wary about randomly stabbing me and such.

And again, it's only in retrospect that I've worked out what the motivation there was. At the time I was genuinely unaware that my speech patterns, way of carrying myself, general attitudes on things, etc. marked me as incredibly girly. The word "trans" wasn't in my vocabulary yet, nor was I aware of the concept. I figured I just got targeted like that because I was a weird nerdy kid and I never fought back, and I figured all the adults around to witness this were turning blind eyes purely on the grounds that it was mainly their children doing the assaulting (which wasn't a guess, there were parent-volunteers policing the playgrounds, and it was their kids who tended to be the worst).

Meanwhile some years on into all this, I think around when I was starting high school, I had to do with the whole puberty thing, and that experience, as a trans woman, was absolute hell. A lot of people will broadly nod about puberty being an unpleasant experience what with acne and gangliness and awkward sexual stimulus responses and having to deal with a libido from the first time and all that. That does not compare. And you can take my word for that, because not only did I have to deal with all that in top of the things I'm calling "absolute hell" at the time, I had to go through that whole deal a second time years later. I've even got experience with both the standard male and female puberty experiences. I don't think I could fairly compare the two, but I can definitely say being in my 30s the second time around that it's a whole lot easier to deal with the whole experience as an adult than as some emotionally immature teenager, so if you ever have a choice in the matter, I'd highly recommend putting it off for a few years.

That trans woman puberty stuff though? Again, hell. Really hard to explain this if you haven't been through it yourself, and even if you have, results vary person to person. While going through the standard puberty effects though, I had some of those hormones all our bodies produce cranking out at levels way higher than they should, and some others lower, which first of all just straight up caused problems with my brain chemistry, directly causing massive depression, mood swings, inability to properly multitask. Nasty times. Which I had to deal with for years because everyone assumed I was either being dramatic about puberty or whatever, and I had plenty in my life to be miserable and detached over. Then there's the physical effects. Just, body horror. Imagine if your body responded to sexual stimulation or the random twitches that happen as a teen by having your genitals painfully turn inside out. Meanwhile your skin and hair are disgusting, and you hate the way your own body smells. That's a start.

Then of course there's the dreams. You know when you reach that certain age and start to get the occasional dream of a sexy nature? Never been a single time in my life I've ever had one of those where I didn't have the standard issue female configuration of things going on. Which always felt natural as anything, as did the pretty frequent occasion on which I'd get called ma'am on the phone. So eventually I worked out that SOMETHING was up here, and I needed to work out what and what I could do about it.

Unfortunately, it was the '90s.

A girl in my position today would hopefully have much more of a handle on what was up than I did, but "trans" wasn't a term you heard anywhere, and the terms you did hear tended to relate to crossdressing fetishes, "extra gay" men, murderous villains from movies, and porn, of both the transformation fetish variety, and "sissification." None of this was relevant to me, so the trail went cold for... quite a lot of years, before eventually I just ended up randomly befriending several trans women who had worked out what was up properly, eventually worked out that they actually had the same thing going on that I did and not, as I was taught by odd websites earlier, super obsessive about how they were dressed or whatever. And that medical transition was a thing (this is where that second puberty thing came in), and that it wasn't just some cosmetic thing or something, so if I got serious about it and got myself some sort of functioning medical coverage, I was on the path to getting my brain functioning right and my body not being a source of disgust and horror.

Having mostly worked out that I'm what's known as a trans woman, that my family was not cool with that, my coworkers likely weren't either, and I needed some concrete resources to move forward. So I found somewhere I could set up a secure new e-mail, used that to register a new blog (which if I haven't moved things around is the very blog you're reading this on), and made an initial post on that blog that was pretty much this one up to this point, just with a hell of a lot more question marks in it. I've since deleted that post, thanks to the stalkers. And then in the hopes of getting the eyes of some knowledgeable people on it, I set up a twitter account to link to it (probably the very one that lead you here).

Unfortunately, it was the summer of 2014.

So uh, back in the early 2010s, were YOU aware that nazis were a thing that existed and that you really had to worry about? Or that one of the groups they explicitly have always spent a lot of their time and energy trying to exterminate was trans women? If not, you almost certainly weren't aware that social media sites were actually swarming with nazis actively monitoring for any newly registered accounts talking about being trans to immediately start targeting, or that the people running those sites are totally OK with this and never take action against it.

I do actually mean nazis, by the way, just to be clear. As in, guys with giant swastika tatoos on their chests, quoting and aspiring to the ideals of Hitler, refering to themselves as nazis, talking about how people like me need to be rounded up and lobotomized and/or sent to death camps along with Black and Jewish people. Like this charmer here. Now, not all of them are quite that open and honest about it. Most try to keep a slightly lower profile, especially the ones who interact with the general public. They love coming up with alternate names for themselves, dividing up work between multiple people, or at least multiple accounts, playing little games where they'll set up one website/social media account to name targets, another to "dig up dirt" on those targets, and claim the people actually launching the attacks just stumbled across those. Things like that. But, yeah. Nazis. Real, active, wanting people like me dead.

So literally, I think the time between me setting up my blog and the twitter account pointing at it, and nazis noticeably coming after me was... maybe a week? I had no actual followers, really no actual posts, and just this inflow of shocking vicious comments from people. And this is with a totally anonymized account, with no connections to anyone, no name, no photos, no views stated of any kind. At the time I didn't even have a profile picture anywhere. If I had, it would have been so much worse for me. I've seen these people working out where teenage trans girls live, physically traveling to them, filming them as they walk to school, and making sick sexual comments about how they look. A few have jobs in the press, and they'll write articles on these things.

In my case, what ended up happening for the most part is that they spent a solid year or two trying to find any sort of personal information about me, failed, made some up, and then proceeded to go to town, smearing my online handles and reputation to anyone they could find, and setting about similarly completely destroying the lives of anyone they perceived to be my friend. And then of course once I actually got to a place in my life where I could transition, it did in fact prove to be the case that some people in my life had a real problem with that, alerted some local bigots, badmouthed me to friends and family. I was forced to flee my home for safety. More than once.

For anyone curious though, the whole transition thing was absolutely worth it. I have a couple simple medications I take every day, which completely fix the brain chemistry issues, and basically reprogram every cell in my body to do standard woman things. No more weird skin and hair issues, curves everywhere they should be, all that good stuff. So long as I'm not around people weird creeps have informed that I'm trans, I get to be a perfectly normal woman leading a perfectly normal life. Apart from all the relentless stalkers and death threats and weird crap in my mail and inability to ever share photos or my real name anywhere anyway.

You know what I don't spend any time doing though? I don't go lobbying government officials, about anything. I don't strong arm newspapers or TV shows to alter their contents. I'm not making media appearances of any kind. I don't prey upon children. I don't go around looking for random women to attack with horrible slurs. I don't campaign for changes in social laws and norms around where I'm allowed to go to the bathroom or how I'm counted in the census. I'm not trying to redefine any words. I'm not ruining anyone's ability to participate in sporting events. I'm not misrepresenting myself on dating apps to entrap people. I'm not denying scientific consensus. And oh yes, I'm not forcing people to look at penises.

I point these things out because each and every item on this list is something that the people routinely sending me violent threats are quite insistent that I, like all "trans activists" am constantly doing, when nothing could be further from the truth. Which really begs the question of how exactly I qualify as a "trans activist." Or any of the other people arbitrarily labeled as such. It's almost like people really want to just find women whose lives are hard enough they can't meaningfully fight back against horrific abuse to lay into, but want some sort of excuse for how they clearly deserve it for something. And weirder still, when I look at the social media profiles of the people making these wild claims, consistently, they are actually doing literally every single thing on that list, fairly constantly. Hey, you ever look up the term DARVO? It's an interesting one. Bit relevant here.

Anyway, what I'm getting at, in kind of a round about way, is that there really aren't any "trans activists" out there. Or at least there's vanishingly few. Mostly it's just an alternate term literal full-on nazis are using to refer to trans women, because they're pretty sure someone being an "activist" means it's OK to try and have them killed. And everything the have to say about "trans activists" is an outright lie. Not even just the slanderous stuff. They rail like hell against straw man positions nobody in the world actually has, too.

Meanwhile me, I'm just some... I guess now middle-aged woman, living alone, in the middle of nowhere, having to beg people for money to keep a roof over my head and feed my cats, because... random bigots heard I have a rare medical condition and decided to dedicate their lives to ruining mine because of all the myths they've concocted about it.

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

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[javierpinme]

Part One: New Beginnings

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Infidelity, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol

Rating: M (might change)

Summary:  You’ve lived in a small town for half of your life and nothings really changed until it did. Moving halfway across the country you find lasting friendships and a love you needed at the exactly the right time.

A/N: There is not a ton of Frankie in this one since I wanted to set the tone for the reader before they meet! They don’t see/meet each other until near the end (or do they?) I wanted to build the reader’s relationships with the people in her life as there will more parts.

AO3

Masterlist

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It’s hard to build friendships as an adult without being under the pretense of school or college. It’s especially difficult when you decide to move across the country. Away from your family and friends, but it’s what you needed. Seeing the same four walls you lived in, that same greasy diner that was always your go-to after one too many tequila shots the night before, and that one ex from high school that you’d really rather forget while running errands were making you feel complacent. Wake up. Drink. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. You’ve spent most of your life here. You weren’t about to spend the rest of it here. So, you did something completely unlike you. You packed up your life and moved. The house was beautiful. You’d never owned anything in your life; just rented so this is a major upgrade for you. The first sight that greets you is the stairs after living in a first floor unit for most of your life. The house isn’t in perfect shape, but it’s yours which is all that matters.

The movers have left so you finally had the place to yourself. You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that fell from your mouth at the sight of all the boxes. If your sister and friends were here you’d probably be knee deep in pizza and wine while attempting to build furniture. You gave your brain the space to let that thought sink in, but you craved the freedom so you didn’t let that sit too long. You came here to build your own memories; no room for regrets now. So, the first thing you decide to acclimate yourself with is the closest liquor store and that is how you met Hannah.

The first thing you hear after getting lost reading a wine label is a loud oof before slamming into somebody. You only barely managed to catch the bottle before it became one with the outdated tile.

“I am SO sorry! I’m not even going to lie to you I was not watching where I was going. Are you okay? You didn’t drop anything did you?”

You manage to form a sentence between your scrambled apologies in between. The first thing you notice when you look at the face standing in front of you is how pretty she is. That typical blonde hair and blue eyes type that reminds you of the girls you went to high school with. You wince. Stop it.

“Oh, I’m okay! It was more the residual shock of it really. You must really need that bottle because you were just about ready to run me over in your pursuit to the cash register. Cheating ex or bad date?”

She says with a laugh while pointing at the wine still in your hand. Oh, she’s nice. You immediately feel guilty for that initial judgment when first looking at her.

“Oh, neither. I just moved here and need sustenance to unpack. Who knew you could fit your entire life into boxes?” You mirror her laugh.

“I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Walk around the neighborhood and find the necessities which is how I ended up here.” You say with a twirl in your finger.

"Ah, the one down the street that's just begging to be demolished?" She says while snapping her fingers with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that. She's old, but she's got character." You can't help the lopsided grin you give her. She hasn't even seen the dream kitchen with those beautiful green cabinets.

“Hey, well if you need help with that-“ her eyes shifting to the bottle, “I live right down the street so I can come over. I know moving somewhere unfamiliar can be a little daunting especially if you’re alone.” You can’t help the wide smile forming at her sweet gesture.

“And to help me unpack right?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I mean I’m better at draining a bottle, but if it’s necessary I will work for food and drinks. But, if I’m going to help you we are going to need way more than that.”

She finishes her sentence grabbing more bottles while traveling through the aisles. The sound of you’ve got to try this one and this one’s local in between aisle changes filling the store. You assure her that she is not off the hook with helping even with the promise of the “best merlot you’ve ever had in your life.”

Bags filling both of your hands and way too much alcohol for just two people to consume you make your way up the steps. Hannah pauses and looks up at the house.

“I was right. It should have been demolished. Will the porch cave in before I make it inside?” She says with skepticism at the foundation of your new home.

“Probably eventually but-“ you turn around to face her, “she’ll last for now. Come on, I haven’t even showed you the best part!”

You open your door and make your way inside leaving the door open for her to follow. You faintly hear from the kitchen “I seriously doubt that”, and you can’t help your chuckle at the remark.

You’ve always wanted a fixer upper; probably from all the HGTV shows you immersed yourself in as a child and the fact you’ve only ever lived in apartments. The first and only thing you managed to unpack first was your wine glasses. You definitely made a point to label them in big writing while packing up back home. A decision you are patting yourself on the back for now.

“So, do you like pizza? I know a good place. Pizza and wine should always be paired with move-in days. Oh, you’re right. This is probably the only good part of your house.”

Hannah leaned on the counter next you before shifting to test the weight taking in the scene of your kitchen.

“Love pizza. It’s not there yet, but I definitely have some plans with it; starting with keeping the color of those cabinets.”

In between sips of your glasses of wine you start to collaborate over your ideas of making it functional and aesthetically pleasing.

It didn’t take very long to start building friendships with the people in your area. You even started joining Sunday brunches and you were overly ecstatic finding out that bottomless mimosas existed. They didn’t have these at the diners back home. They even started assisting you with choosing paint swatches and going to Home Depot because you just had try that DIY project of making your own lounge chair that you found scrolling on Youtube.

“I think your measurements are a little off.”

Alex, probably one of your favorites of the group, mirrors the tilt of your head with his arms crossed. He co-owns a woodworking business with his husband so you wanted him there for any adjustments and moral support. Unfortunately for you, he wanted you to learn first which really meant fail.

You grimace at your handiwork and say, “yeah, I think maybe I should stick with what I’m good at.”

With a breathy laugh he adds, “give yourself some credit. You managed to tear up the carpet in the living room AND still able to keep the original hardwood. That’s no easy feat.”

You’ve somehow managed to create a whole support system in the little time that you’ve spent here. You’ve finally had the time and resources to create your own little touches that make your house now a home.

“Hannah, can’t we just stay in tonight? I’ve already been defeated twice by the light fixture in the living and my fingers are still tingling from the faulty power box. I’m really not in the mood.”

You give her the biggest puppy eyes you can manage while exaggeratingly lifting you fingers.

“Oh no, you’re going out to the bar tonight. You’ve been here for months and you really need to get yourself out there. You’re hot. Own it. Besides, it’s just you and me so there’s no pressure.”

She says with a swat to your ass and a push towards your closet. The only response you can add to that is Hmph.

The bar is nice enough with the dim lighting and it’s not so loud that you can’t hear yourself talk. Hannah insisted you wear one of your nicer dresses, but you wanted to feel like yourself so you opted for a t-shirt tucked into light wash jeans. If you were going to meet anyone tonight you wanted to set the standard for anything that could happen at the start. You’re still nursing your second beer while Hannah is on her third shot of the night. You feel a presence to your right and a sharp pinch to your thigh on your left. Hannah is of course attempting to alert you to the attractive man on the other side of you as if you didn’t notice. You turn around with a pained look on your face to her which she just shrugs off before making herself scarce.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your attention is brought back to the man to your right. He is very cute in a boyish kind of way and you briefly wonder if he’s talking to someone else. He’s dressed like he just got out of a business meeting, but his rolled sleeves are definitely doing something for you.

“Sure. What’s your name?” You say with the flirtiest smile you can muster.

“Joey. Nice to meet you.”

God, his smile must do wonders for his conquests. It’s working for you quite honestly. You completely lose track of time talking to him and see out of the corner of your eye Hannah leaving the bar holding onto a man with salt and pepper hair and scruff. Looks like she got lucky too. She gives you a wink as she walks out the door and you look to see where he was sitting in case you need to remember faces. Seems like he was out with some of his friends, but you didn’t get a thorough look because your attention is immediately brought back to Joey. You set a reminder for yourself to check in with her before you go to bed tonight.

It’s been a constant date after date and you were really beginning to develop feelings for him. Sure, you always tried to convince him you didn’t need to be wooed with all these extravagant dates. You were just happy to spend time with him. You didn’t need to go to a fancy restaurant to tell you that. It just wasn’t your style, but it made him happy so you went along with it. You had initially assumed him to be a one night stand, but you were pleasantly surprised to hear from him the next day asking to take you out dinner.

Your muscles in your stomach are straining from how hard you’re laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos on the TV. Joey is sitting next to you on the couch with takeout cartons loitered all over your coffee table. The living room is starting to lose its natural lighting due to the day coming to a close; the only light source in the room being the lamp sitting on the end table next to the couch and the glow from the TV. You notice Joey looking at you with a far off look.

“What’s wrong?” You ask with a furrow in your brow. “Nothing.” His face shifting to a more pleasant tone once he turns back to the TV. The two of you had settled into a routine at your house. You had even introduced him to your friends and they really seemed to enjoy spending time with him. It was easy for them to fall for his charms as you did.

“Come on, hurry up. You’re supposed to be helping me pick out an outfit for tonight!”

Hannah still continued to see the man from the bar, Santi, his friends called him.

“If I’m supposed to be helping you pick an outfit then why are we in the lingerie section?” You ask with a sly grin on your face.

“That’s for after, of course. Gotta keep it interesting.”

Her laugh followed by her adding some bras and panties to her hands. You agreed to come with her tonight to officially meet him and his friends. You’ve heard enough about him from her. Some very intimate details as well. They weren’t exactly exclusive to each other and as far as you knew they were dating other people which you respected. You were nervous about meeting them, but you knew it was only a matter of time until Hannah would want to do this. You trusted her judgment and you were already comfortable that it was going to be in the bar you usually ventured out to.

In her words, “your only forms of entertainment can’t just be your home projects, Joey and me, you know? You deserve to have fun too and these guys will show you a good time I promise” while ringing up her purchases.

You barely manage to make it through the door of the bar before you feel a breeze next to you from her speeding to Santi with a kiss. You lovingly shake your head at her dramatic antics and make your way over to the table. It’s a little awkward at first since Hannah still had yet to let go of the man sitting next to her and you didn’t know how to start a conversation with these men with what was going on next to you.

“Sorry. I’m Santi, but everyone calls me Pope.”

He reaches over to shake your hand with a tone that is definitely not apologetic at all, but you find it amusing. You like him already. You can definitely see why Hannah was interested, but not your type.

He starts introducing his friends off to you. Will. He seems like the more mellow type of the group and his call sign is Ironhead. Benny is just Benny since he’s the baby of the group.

“He’s the menace of all of us so watch out for this one.” Will ruffles his brother’s hair for added measure which Benny recoils from.

Then, Frankie, they call him Catfish. Oh he’s handsome, but not in the boyish way that Joey is. He’s handsome in a more ruggish kind of way and you can’t seem to break eye contact from him. Your eyes don’t know where to go first so they travel from his deep brown eyes, to the bare patches on the beard he can’t seem to grow that you find yourself wanting to kiss, and to the curls peeking out of his standard heating oil hat. You find yourself itching to take that hat off and run your fingers through the nape of his hair.  Stop. He’s the more reserved one in the group which makes sense since he really hasn’t fully spoken more than a few words at a time to you. You can’t control the side glances you keep shooting at him throughout the night. You’re just appreciating the view and maybe conjuring up a few very much domestic fantasies in your head. Liar.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to get a grip on your emotions. Tilting your head at your reflection you point an accusing finger “get yourself together. You ca—.“  You jump at the intrusion of an elderly woman walking into the otherwise empty bathroom; a quizzical look forming on her face from your actions. Your nervous laugh gets the best of you. “It isn’t what it- I don’t always do this.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to explain yourself since she’s already closed the stall before you even got the chance to finish your sentence. You find yourself even more flustered leaving the bathroom than before going into it. This is going to be a long night.

***

Frankie was nervous when Santi first told him that Hannah would be bringing a friend. He remembers you from the night Santi first left with her. How could he forget? You had his attention the moment you stepped into the bar, but by the time he finally worked up the nerve to talk to you another guy had already swooped in. It wasn’t that surprising considering and it was probably for the best. He really wasn’t in any headspace to be in a relationship. His eyes followed you when you left to go to the bathroom in a hurry and he could just feel Santi’s eyes burning into him. He knew. You were exactly his type and he hoped to whoever was up above that he would just leave him to his hopeless crush without interfering.

***

You sit down at the table preparing to come up with some segway into the conversation between everyone when Santi breaks it with a loud clap calling your name out. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

You miss the glare that Frankie shoots him and the embarrassed groan he makes. You don’t miss the warning tone Will gives when calling Santi’s name out, but you get the feeling you’re not entitled to know what that’s about.

“Yes, I am.” Why does it feel so wrong to say that? “His name is Joey.” Hannah chimes in while rubbing Santi’s shoulders.

You also miss the sight of Frankie’s shoulders deflating at that piece of information. Your answer seems to satisfy Santi since he drops it after that and moves on to a different topic. “Benny, when’s your next fight?” It’s Friday apparently and all the guys along with Hannah are going to support him.

Will shifts towards you and says, “you can come if you want.” You cringe on the inside; your insecurities getting the best of you. If you want. They’re only inviting you because you’re there at the moment. “Maybe.” You won’t.

Somehow, Hannah has convinced you to go out with them a second time. “Come on, you can bring Joey since you’re so nervous! Please bring him,” she says with pleading eyes.

“I’m not nervous!” Liar. There is a sliver of truth to her statement, but you don’t want to tell her the reason for your nerves is seeing Frankie again. Yet here you were sitting in a booth with Joey across from Hannah and the rest of the guys.

“Jesus Hannah, he’s not going anywhere.”

You say with a loud laugh at her not so subtle PDA with Santi. “Sorry.” She said with a swipe of trying to remove her lipstick from Santi’s face; her smile never leaving her face. Frankie hasn’t looked at you at all tonight and you can’t help but wonder what you did wrong. You see those eyes crinkle and that cute dimple when he’s dedicating his attention to everyone else at the table, but disappears when his eyes go in your general direction.

At some point the guys and Hannah walk off to buy more drinks leaving you with Joey. He’s hasn’t hid his disinterest of the night at all even when the guys were trying to include him.

“Why are you so grumpy?” “I’m not.” His deep sigh a dead giveaway to his sour mood. “I’m just not vibing with them that’s all.” His eyes following the guys by single file line as he said it. You assure him that you can leave soon which after an hour or so you do.

Tonight’s events must have tired you out more than you thought because you’re fighting yawns the entire ride to Joey’s apartment. You don’t usually spend time here since he prefers staying at your place, but his place was a lot closer to the bar. The minute you walk inside you walk straight to his bedroom so you can promptly pass out as Joey showers. As you start to pull back the blankets something catches your eye. That’s not mine. Your heart rate is starting to speed up at the thought that’s forming in your mind. You reach down and grab a bra that was haphazardly thrown on the floor. The thing is you’d recognize that bra anywhere because you were there when she bought it; the day you were meeting Santi for the first time. You almost didn’t hear the water being shut off in the bathroom and the footsteps coming into the bedroom.

“Hey, what’s goin o—“

His eyes follow where you’re looking and then back up to your face. He’s not even trying to defend himself or come up with some shitty excuse that wouldn’t work anyway.

“How long?” Your voice is barely managing to stay steady while still staring at the incriminating evidence of your betrayal.

“How long, Joey?” His hesitation gives you your answer. It’s been a while.

[connieslover]

the librarian and the princess

༄ؘ fem! princess reader, librarian armin

༄ؘ royal au, fluff

(play this song for the best ~ vibes ~) also if this does well ill consider doing an eren ver tehee

✧˖*°࿐ in which you are a princess and armin is head over heels for you. 

armin was your average librarian (with way above average looks). he was a male with short blonde hair and bangs that reached his eyebrows. his large ocean blue eyes and small pointed nose made up his young boyish features.

ever since he was a child, he had a fascination with the ocean and the world. this curiosity lead to him becoming interested in books. before he knew it, he was in love with the world of reading. it was his getaway from reality. 

the woody earthy smell enveloped armin as he entered the library with a small smile on his face. he made his way over to the counter and looked through the list of books that were borrowed. 

after greeting a few regular visitors, helping some children to look for a book and dusting the shelves, he remembered the large pile of returned books. he sighed before deciding to go organise them back into their spots.

as he slid a book into a shelf, the bell of the library rang, indicating that someone has entered. 

“welcome!” he greeted, eyes moving from the book in his hands and towards the figure at the entrance of the library.

the figure wore a dainty plain coloured dress that fitted her nicely. a few locks of her hair peeked out of the green cloak she was wearing. her fingers pulled down her hood, revealing her face. her reddish lips were slightly open as her dazzling eyes gazed upon the library with such astonishment until it paused at him.

with fluster, the books in armin’s free hand slid out, causing them to fall onto the floor with many thumps. his cheeks reddened in embarrassment and he quickly bent down to pick them up. as he clumsily picked up the books, his and the figure’s hands grazed upon each other. he looked up and felt like his breath was taken away for the second time.

his eyes was met with her e/c orbs.

“oh! here,” she quickly grabbed the book and handed it over to armin who simply nodded as a thanks. she stood up from the ground and patted her hands on her dress.

armin was still speechless.

“this library... it’s very astonishing...wait no! it’s enchanting,” she marvelled, looking around.

“t-thank you,” armin sheepishly thanked. 

the book that armin held caught her sight. 

“i love that book!” she beamed, “the little mermaid was my favourite story when i was a child. well it was one of my favourites but anyways isn’t it romantic how ariel traded her legs for the prince? it was kind of stupid of her to do so but it was still romantic,” she rambled, her eyes gleaming as she did so. armin could only give a small giggle.

“i’m y/n by the way. what about you?” she introduced herself, reaching a hand out to the male. armin’s eyes darted towards her and her hand.

‘y/n? that name sounds...familiar,’

“armin arlert. i take care of the library,” he introduced himself, shaking her smaller hands.

you gave him a smile, “nice to meet you, armin. perhaps you could show me around the library?”

armin nodded almost too enthusiastically. you giggled at the way he almost dropped the books in his hands in excitement.  

as armin continued to give a tour of the library he loved dearly, you asked him a few questions regarding the library and the books. armin admired your interest and how your eyes sparkled whenever you spoke about the books. it was the first time he felt so excited to talk to someone who had the same interest as he did.

“where i live, my library books are all just about history, politics and more lame stuff. whereas here...there’s so much more genres that i can explore! it’s so fascinating,” you gleamed, your hands outstretching as you speak. 

“w-well you can borrow as many books as you want,” spoke armin, fiddling with his fingers.

your eyes grew wider, “really? thank you so much armin!”

after picking up a few interesting looking books, you gazed at the clock on the wall and gasped. 

“oh my, i have to go back soon. but i’ll make sure to come back here tomorrow!” you wore your hood again and gave a thankful smile to armin who returned it.

“i’ll see you tomorrow then,”

the male couldn’t sleep that night. he was spent all night thinking about the beautiful stranger he befriended.

✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧

and so, a week passed by. a week of you visiting the library, exchanging conversations with armin about your day or the most random things or about the books you’ve read. 

and a week of armin slowly falling in love with you.

armin constantly looked at the clock, feet tapping against the wooden floor. once he heard the bell ring, a delighted smile made its way on his lips. 

“hi armin! i finished the book you recommended to me yesterday. i didn’t expect the plot twist at all. jane’s character development was something else. this might be one of my favourite books now. oh! not to mention the part where mark-” your cheeks turned pink, feeling embarrassed that you were rambling for too long.

“i-uh sorry for rambling. but i really loved the book!” 

“it’s fine. i like listening to your rambling,” armin chuckled. and he wasn’t lying. he really did like listening to your rambling. something about the way your eyes would light up, the way your hands would move animatedly as you spoke and the little sound effects you’d make to add depth into your story was all utterly adorable to him. 

you placed your elbow onto the counter and leaned against your palm, letting out a sigh,

“i wish i could stay here the whole day. this library...is the only place i can escape reality. it’s so calm and comforting,”

armin nodded to your words, agreeing. before he could speak you stood up straight again.

“well, i’ll be searching for more books now,” you did a twirl and excitedly skipped towards the many rows of books, humming delightfully.

armin looked at you with such fondness with his eyes that he didn’t even hear the bell ring.

“could that be the lady you are so in love with?” startled, armin let out a squeal, dropping the pen he had in his hand. his cheeks flushed red as he picked it up.

“e-eren, mikasa, when did you guys come?” he squeaked, hiding his reddened face behind a book.

“just now. but you were too busy staring at the girl,” the pale black haired female responded.

“soooo aren’t you going to introduce us to her?” eren raised a brow, staring at the female who was looking through the books on the shelves.

“fine,” 

as you were reading the blurb of a book, you felt a tap on your shoulder. you turned your head around, greeted with armin and two figures behind him. at the sight of your face, eren gasped loudly,

“p-princess y/n?” 

armin’s eyes nearly bulged out of its sockets.

that explained why you had such a short curfew. why you always wore the green cape. why you were very cautious and why you had this some sort of royal elegance radiating from you.

eren and mikasa had their heads bowed, startled, armin followed suit before jumping to his feet.

“oh my goodness forgive me! i didn’t know that you were a princess y-your majesty,” armin fretted, bowing once again. 

the tips of your ears grew pink in embarrassment and you ushered armin to stand straight.

“i’m sorry for not telling you...this is the only place where i really feel like myself you know? and you...you’re my first friend outside of the castle. i didn’t want you to treat me like i’m...a royal,” you apologised, fiddling with your fingers.

“it’s alright. i should’ve known you were royalty when you introduced yourself, your highness,”

you gave out a laugh, “you don’t have to call me your highness. that counts for the two of you too. y/n is fine. anyways, you were introducing me to your friends?”

"this is eren,” armin introduced a brunette male who was the opposite of armin. he had a more mature face, accompanied with a muscular build. his brunette hair reached past his ears and down onto his neck. he was quite attractive.

“and she is mikasa,” the pale skinned woman with enchanting grey eyes and short black hair simply nodded at you.

“nice to meet you, y/n.” eren stepped forward and took your hand, kissing it lightly. he straightened his back, “armin has told us a lot about you,”

a rosy pink covered his cheeks and nose.

you simple giggled, raising a brow to armin, “oh really?”

"you shouldn’t tease him eren,” scolded the female.

your eyes glanced at the clock, realising it was your curfew. 

“it was nice meeting you, eren and mikasa. i hope we can meet again! i have to go soon,” you placed your hood back on and before you stepped out the library, you turned your heel, waving the book in your hand, “i’ll be borrowing this book! thanks armin,”

“so, whats your plan on charming the princess?”

✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧

you didn’t come the next day.

or the next.

and the next.

hundreds of questions ran through armin’s mind. he was worried that your parents had discovered that you were sneaking out of the caslte when you weren’t supposed to. asides from feeling worried, he felt gloomy. gloomy that your bright and cheerful presence wasn’t here to make his day better.

“what am i thinking? she probably won’t visit the library ever again...i should’ve told her i liked her...no...she probably doesn’t even like me that way. besides, a princess like her...deserves someone whose worth more than a librarian.” muttered the boy to himself as he dusted the shelves.

the bell rang.

“welcome,” he greeted, already knowing that the person he was looking forward to wasn’t the one standing by the door.

well, that was what he thought. 

the blonde male turned around and to his surprise you were there. you had a smile on your face, your upper body leaning towards him. the close proximity startled the poor boy, making him fall onto the floor.

his mumbled an ow as you chuckled, a hand reaching out to help him out from the ground. 

“w-where did you go? did your parents find out? are you okay?” blurted armin, his doe eyes blinking rapidly.

“i’m fine armin. sorry for not visiting the library for the past few days. something important came up,” you explained. 

armin gave a sigh of relief, knowing that you weren’t in any sort of trouble.

“speaking of the something important...princess historia, my sister, is hosting a ball tomorrow as it’s her birthday. i was wondering if you’d like to come? oh and eren and mikasa too!” 

armin’s mouth flew open.

“y-you don’t have to force yourself to come. i just thought that it would be nice if-”

“i’d be delighted to come,” he sputtered.

your eyes twinkled and you could barely hold your excitement. you placed your hands onto armin’s shoulders,“oh my goodness thank you! i was worried for a second that you didn’t want to come. i could show you around the royal library! and introduce you to my cat. oh! i could introduce you to jean, connie, sasha and ymir too! that would be so much fun and-”

armin’s head tilted at your pause.

embarrassed that you were rambling once again you let go of his shoulders, “s-sorry. i got carried away again,”

“it’s alright, y/n. i’d love to finally see the castle,” 

“i’m sorry but i have to go back early. historia wants opinions for her dress tomorrow...make sure to be there by 8! and tell the guards that princess y/n personally invited you,” you wore your hood and waved goodbye to armin before skipping away. armin stared at your figure until it disappeared.

his heart was beating rapidly.

“d-did i just get invited to a royal ball?”

✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞༺♥༻✧

“woah look at the ball room! it’s so...huge. and there, isn’t that captain levi? and erwin smith? holy crap!” eren loudly whispered to erenn and mikasa, pointing at a tall blonde male who was stand next to a shorter yet intimidating looking male.

but eren was right. the ball room was huge. royal and exquisite.

the walls were white, with sparkling chandeliers hanging down from it. there were carvings on the walls which resembled beautiful flowers and greek gods and goddesses. 

armin could only feel anxious.

“where’s y/n? shouldn’t she be here?” wondered mikasa, adjusting the red scarf around her neck. armin looked around the ball room, eyes searching for you.

“there you guys are! i was looking everywhere for the three of you,” the three heads turned towards you.

armin felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs. this was the first time that he saw you truly dress like a princess.

you were wearing a dazzling simple ball gown that ended right at your ankles. the colour complimented your skin beautifully. your shoulder and collarbones were on full display. not to mention your hair, was let loose with slight waves at the end. your makeup was fairly simple, making your gorgeous features more prominent. the silver tiara that laid on your head pulled together the look. 

“h-hello?” you waved your hands in front of the trio.

“y/n, thank you for inviting us,” mikasa thanked, giving you a gracious bow.

“thank you, princess,” eren followed mikasa and bowed, winking at you. your cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.

before eren could say more, mikasa had dragged him away, leaving you and armin alone. 

“you-” the both of you spoke at the same time. 

“you go first,”

you chuckled before speaking, “you look nice,”

and of course, you weren’t lying. instead of the messy blonde bangs armin usually had, it was slicked back (except for a few strands that stuck out). his undercut was even more prominent than before. he wore a dark blue attire which complimented his bright blue eyes nicely.

“you too, y/n,” a blush seared through his milky cheeks. 

“come on, i’ll give you a tour of the castle!” you grabbed armin’s wrist, thrilled to show him around the castle. especially the library.

once you were done showcasing armin the castle and the library, and introducing to him your close friends, the two of you ended up in the balcony of the ballroom. the music from the orchestra played while the two of you leaned against the railing of the balcony, looking into the dark and starry night.

“this has been the most fun i’ve had in a while,” you breathed.

armin turned his head to observe you. admiring your profile as you looked into the sky. he then turned his attention to the ball room where people were already dancing.

“would you like to dance, y/n?” he asked offering his palm to you. 

“yes, prince armin. it would be an honour,” you teased. you placed your hands on his shoulders while his hands were gently holding your waist. 

with the light from the moon, it made armin more handsome than usual. his eyebrows had a slight furrow as he was concentrated in following your rhythm as you both swayed. his concentration broke off when he accidentally stepped onto your foot.

“i’m so sorry!” he apologised, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

you simply laughed at him.

“thank you, armin,”

“for what?” he asked, slightly puzzled.

“for recommending books from the library and for you know...being my friend. when i’m with you, i feel like i can be myself. not a princess nor a royal but me,” you smiled, making armin’s heart skip a beat.

“i should be the one thanking you,”

“m-me?” you tilted your head.

“for making my days better. for being the reason i get excited to wake up in the morning and for teaching me what falling in love is like,” your cheeks were suddenly kissed pink, like a rose. you turned your head to the side to avert armin’s gaze, flustered and shy.

you felt him gently pull you closer by the waist. your chests against one another. you turned to face armin again. the blooming pink colour of his blush was adorable against his milky skin.

you moved a blonde strand of hair away from his forehead, placing a hand on his cheek. with affection reflecting into each others eyes, the two of you slowly closed your eyelids, sharing your first sweet kiss under the moon. 

[your-sweet-cookies]

Not moving an inch from her spot and seeming rather unphased and unimpressed by what she thought must've been the man's poorly executed attempt at flirting with her, Kukki shrugged her shoulders and took another sip from her bland orange juice. "Fascinating... You must be really acquainted with this place then. Don't you just get bored of remixing the same songs over and over again?" Her knowledge on the topic was sparse, considering that she wasn't much into dance music, so all she though about dj-ing was that a guy plays the same popular songs over and over again, changing the tuning and adding some extra sounds on the side. His comment made her roll her eyes, seemingly starting to get annoyed by this guy and his blunt mannerisms she pretty much considered to be savagely. To say the least, Kukki was never a woman to be impressed by a though man with a tough and bad boyish behavior. Frankly, she was hardly impressed by anything as a matter of fact.

"Yes, orange juice. Not all of us are fans of losing their minds over some stupid drink and doing shit they might regret afterwards." She kept it simple, concluding that telling a complete stranger about her poor alcohol tolerance might have not been a wise idea. "That's the point, I am not here to 'have fun' or 'having fun' as a whole. This isn't my cup of tea and I'd much rather be home right now, but it so happens that my dumb friends wanted to go clubbing and they needed someone to keep an eye out for them, you know? We girls must stick together and look after one another and with the whole spike in drugging and rape cases occurring in night clubs in the recent years, only an idiot would go by herself in a place like this." She was probably making a reference to that really recent case with the human trafficking ring masked as a fancy nightclub from Korea. The silver haired then shrugged her shoulders and returned her gaze to the crowds of people dancing and having the time of their lives.

She had thought that that will be that, but when Fuji mentioned that he liked looking at people to analyze and observe them, Kukki's ears seemed to perk up. Something so insignificant and apparently meaningless, yet the only thing that they probably had in common at this given moment and the only saving grace for their conversation. "Then I guess we have something in common. I may not like frequenting this kind of places, but observing the behavioral patterns and displays of human nature that occur in such environments can be interesting at times." Big words... This probably served as a good indication that this girl wasn't exactly like the typical female customer coming to the club. She was more... refined, so to speak. "When they are drunk and in a public, crowded place like this, people will usually shed their inhibitions and show their true natures, their real selves so to speak, so it's fun playing the guessing game of what the less obvious ones are actually like. For example, that dude there..." She pointed at a middle age looking guy, dressed in a casual office wear, swaying to the rhythm of the music close to a group of women much younger than him. "When he first came into the club, he was very much reserved and somewhat cautious, but after a few beers, he started inching closer and closer to the woman in the skimpy red dress, eyeing her up. I bet that he's probably the director of some respectable company, who is secretly a pervert who likes hitting on women half his age." Kukki rolls her eyes and chuckles.

"My type of great night would be one I spend back at home, bundled up into my fluffy blanket, with my cat next to me and a warm cup of tea in my hands as I watch my favorite show or read a good book." She turns back to looking at Fuji. "I'm sure nothing that you would label as 'fun' anyways."

[@anemia-rp]

'The best nights are the ones you never plan.' (from Fuji)

more tumblr quote prompts pt. 2

The party life was never Kukki's cup of tea so to speak, she was more of a house body, who enjoys spending time by herself in the company of her cat and a good book instead of partying and drinking away god knows where, in a loud and noisy club. And neither was she a fan of socializing, being an introvert by nature who got easily drained by social interactions, yet here she was, in a night club on a late Saturday evening, having been dragged along by a friend to act as their chaperon. Since Kukki never drank and she was a very serious person, her friends often used her to keep an eye out for them in case there where creeps lurking around or they got too drunk.

"Huh?" The silver haired raised her eyes to meet those of the person, whom the voice from earlier belonged to. 'The best night are the ones you never plan'... The words echoed in her mind, making her snort. "Maybe, but so far this is far from what I would normally call 'a great night'. This place is soo packed and loud I feel I could end up losing myself in this sea of people if I get up from here." Kukki replied and took a sip from her nonalcoholic orange juice. She never drank alcohol, given that her tolerance was very low and she could easily get drunk.

Eyeing the man sat next to her, a tall, intimidating looking guy with long hair and tattoos, Kukki took some quick mental notes on him, making an analysis of what she thought his personality might've been like. So far, he didn't struck her as dangerous or sleazy, so she could tolerate him. "What about you? Having a good night so far?"

[amindofstone]

Match up, No. 10

Anon said:

Hello! I would like the match up please I would like to have a Male character and here are stuff about me!

The thing I do mostly is like to care for others and help others, I mostly get tricked on very easily do to my kindness which will cause me to sometimes get very fiesty which not very but maybe like “ please just stop talking your being to loud.” In a annoyed tone, which is very rarely, I tend to like very many hobbies and I don’t judge people base on first glance I see what on the inside and not what on the outside, a weakness I have is my disability but I never allow it to stop me from my true goal in life! And I practically tend to like doing some boyish stuff like archery! I get a lot of compliments on my archery skill because a lot of people say I have the patients and the accuracy very good! My dislikes are I hate real cocky people who think there all good and don’t take stuff for granted I also hate people who look down on weak person as not a human but a animal. I hate peoples who take kindness for granted and use it for a selfish gain.

I stand at about 5’0 exact! I have long brown hair that gets a lot of attention because some people always say to me “ I die to have your hair:” I’m just a tiny bit chubby and have big blue ocean eye that gets a lot of compliments and a lot of people wanting it to. I very much get the attention for how smart I am and how kind I am! I also get some hate from boys when I prove them wrong that girls aren’t weak and I won’t back down from a fight if it means protecting myself, people or just anyone. I like to have some affection it doesn’t have to be a lot maybe just even a hand on the shoulder is fine! I also very do like to wear some baggy clothes and I do like wearing like summer dresses that are knee high. I also tend to get very excited from the smallest things. A lot of people think I’m a loner but when it comes to babies I’m all for them! My cousin even said “ she likes to be alone into babies comes in the picture and she all for them!” 💕I love children and my parents even told me “ your definitely going to be the house wife.” I don’t know if that a compliment or not but I’m taking it😂✌🏻 sorry if I shared so many!

a/n:

Hello there! How are you? I really enjoyed reading all those things about you. Believe it or not but the part in which you said that although you have a disability it is not holding you back to follow your dreams, was impressive. It truly made happy. I have two cousins that have a disability and get me sad every time I see them. But seeing them happy and keep doing whatever they want makes me always so damn happy. You seem to be such a sweet human. Someone bright and jolly. Please never ever change. You are such a strong and great human. Keep that attitude and make sure that even when you end up as a housewife don´t let anyone push you around or take you presence and work for granted. This world really needs more good humans like you. I am so happy you requested. When you mentioned housewife I instantly thought of Hinata (Narutos wife) and then thought about myself who is more of a mixture of Ino and Temari. That thought really made me laugh. LMAO!! Anyways I really hope you will like with what I came up with. If there is anything that bothers you or you don´t like, please tell me so I can change it. Other than that enjoy the little story I came up with. Happy reading!

Match up rules can be found HERE.

Warning(s): Maybe grammatical or spelling mistakes since English is my third language and I´m still improving in every aspect (Please have mercy on that.)

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me if this is shared or published in any other platform or any other way. Please respect me as the writer and my work. Picture is not mine. Credits to: @/SK,Martins (Can be seen in the pic) (found on the internet) !!!

· Well my dear anon. Like I mentioned before I think that you are a sweet and lovely human being. On top of that also simply adorable, fun and pure! Therefore I´d like to match you up with the future pirate king Monkey D. Luffy

· I think that you two would get along so well. So, SO WELL! Now hear me out!

· The way you two got to know each other might sound a bit of cliché but that’s simply how you meet. There was no princess in danger or a knight in a shinny armor but a clueless guy who wondered why a woman in a dress would walk around with arrows and a bow when they weren´t cupid. A simple human?! HA! Definitely not!

· Anyways that’s how everything started….

· The strawhats were docked on the island you were living in. At first they were anxious and didn´t want to leave their ship alone but when a worker at the harbor told them that the civilians on the island had cero problems with pirates as long as they didn´t do anything stupid or harm them. The whole crew got happy and started roaming around the island.

· Luffy being Luffy, screamed for food the moment his feet were on the island. And Zoro…. That guy yelled after him saying that if he gets to have food he wanted Sake. So, Luffy, Zoro and Ussop searched for a restaurant. Why Ussop you wonder? Well Nami send him with the boys because they otherwise would end up on the other side of the island. And Ussop compared to the captain and the first mate knew he had an actual brain and also knew how to use it.

· While the pirates were walking around the island you were helping out as a waitress in your uncles restaurant

· Everything went smooth. You served the people and had little chats with some of them. Some gave you too much tip and some other had you sitting with them and eat with them

· The people of the island knew you well. They knew you and loved you. Your uncle once even said that the only reason why his business was doing so well was because of you. The people never came for the food but rather for you. But you always denied it and told him that it was him and his food that was liked so much.

· Bu today there was something a bit different. A group of men you hated from the bottom of your heart came again. They were simply rude and egoistic. They were people from the wealthier part of the city, that was called royal neighbor. The reason why that neighborhood was called royal had nothing to do with the people that lived there. The only reason it was called royal was because it had a lot of wellness centers, hotels, casinos and parks. While this neighborhood, you were living in was given the name of idyll because of the beautiful nature. Landscapes that could have been painted and not to forget the dreamy beaches. But these group of young men simply didn´t understand that and thought of it differently. In a way that even the mayor couldn´t do anything else than just shook his head in embarrassment. But what could that poor man do. They weren´t doing anything against the law. They simply were annoying, stupid and egoistic.

· The group of young man, not older than 25, would always come once a week and have lunch in your uncles restaurant

· They entered the restaurant followed by three men you never saw on the island. At first you thought of them as sailors until you saw the green haired man carry three swords.

· You were in a dilemma. You didn´t knew if you should take care of the men that could have been pirates or the annoying group of disgusting men that always came. You gave your coworker a look and made sure he understood what you wanted. You were about to walk up to him and tell him to take care of the annoying group of men when you heard a plate breaking. You stopped in your tracks and instantly turned around.

· “This is our table. We always sit here. Now move you pathetic poor human.”, said Dean, the head of the group. You were mad. You were extremely mad and it took you so much energy and patience to not walk up to him and cut of his throat. But you calmed down and thought rationally. You took a deep breath and took your little notebook you used for writing down the guests orders when you heard a glass shatter right after Dean grabbed the customer at his collar and made him stand up. And this was exactly the moment you slammed you notebook and pen on the floor and yelled from the top of your lungs.

· “Watch out what you’re doing, you spoiled brat!”

· You stomped towards him and took a knife from a table on your way to him. “If you do not put him down in a bit and apologize, I swear to god I will make you regret waking up today and leaving your fucking bed!”, Dean knew you were no one to joke around with but his pride as a man kept pushing him. He chuckled and looked at you up and down while his friends that followed him like dogs laughed at your words.

· “Don´t make me start counting you pathetic version of a human.”, with furious eyes you looked up at Dean who still held the customer at his collar. “Look at that tiny girl trying to threaten…”, one of his friends was giving a comment but couldn´t finish his sentence because of you throwing the knife in your hand at him and cutting a bit of his ear and hair. You threw the knife with such a precise and strong grip that it ended up hitting the wall that was three meters behind him. “Watch out what you say because I don´t hesitate to drop the sweet girl attitude.”

· Dean looked at you with pure anger and let go of the man he was holding. He looked at his shocked friend and then back at you. “Today’s point goes to you. But the next time we come and this table is not free you will regret hurting him.”, said the angry man. “Listen here you little dumb spoiled creature. This table won´t be free for you. This is our table. Our property. You have no right to come and throw such a tantrum. And guess what, come again and I will be paying your parents a little visit and make them pay for everything you did. And I am sure that they won´t be pleased by your behavior since they are good friends with my parents and the mayor. Right? Now if I ever see you come here again I will make you pay. After today we will not accept your unacceptable behavior anymore. Now get the FCK OUT!!”

· After they left everything was silent for a few seconds but that change after your uncle started to clap and every person in the restaurant joined him. Your eye widened and your started to blush with a huge grin on your face. But that little moment of clapping didn´t last long. One of the pirates that entered the restaurant spoke up. “You did a good job but I AM HUNGRY!!!! Please FEED ME!”, you were confused. You didn´t know how to react and stood there like a statue.

· “Alright Sir. No worries. We will take your order in a few.”, said your uncle and approached you with a huge smile your notebook and pen. He pats your head with a proud smile. “You are such a brave and strong woman. I am so glad to have you in my family and I think it´s enough for today. Please take care of these men and then go rest: You deserve it.”, you nodded and smiled back to him. You pulled yourself together and made your way to the table of the pirates while your uncle left to take care of the broken glasses and the customer who had to deal with those stupid men.

· “Hello gentlemen. I apologize for making you wait I ….”, “No worries I actually enjoyed the show. You’ve got a good and precise eye. BUT NOW MY ORDER! Get me everything on the second site please.”, you absolutely didn´t knew how to react. You were looking at the talking man with a straw hat and then to his friends with big shook eyes. “I know what you thinking but he always eats that much and manages to stay alive. No worries. And getting to my order I´d like to have number 17 and 22 on the menu.”, said the one with a unusual long nose. “I take the same as him but with three bottles of your best sake.”

· You nodded with a disbelieving look on the face wondering if the first one is really going to eat all of the stuff. But you gave yourself a light slap and made your way to the kitchen only to be confronted with overwhelmed and surprised faces of the cooks. You shrugged with your shoulder and went to get the pirates drinks.

· While you went to get their drinks you saw that more people sat down next to the three pirates what made sense since the table they were sitting on was a huge one that usually only families took. Taking the drinks you served the three and greeted the new costumers. At the table sat a beautiful woman with black hair that complimented you for your adorable and genuine smile. With a blush you gave the others a menu too and took their orders

· Slowly with time passing all of their meals were served and you said your farewells and left the restaurant earlier then thought because your uncle said that he will take care of the rest. Thanking him you left and made your way to your archery lesson although it would have been way too early.

· Every time you came your sensei’s face would glow with pride. But the malicious person he is he would then drag you inside and introduce you to another challenge he came up with.

Time skip because ya author is lazy for the first time in a while now. *apologizes in trilingual

· It was late in the evening. You were on your way back home and thought why not take the route that would lead you to walk across the beach. You were having a good time alone. The sound of the waves that crashed on the cliffs and rocks were beautifully calming. The feeling of the sand under you feet were relaxing. With a smile upon your lips you were lost in your thoughts when the same guy with the straw hat you saw in the restaurant looked at you while blinking a few times before he asked you if you were Cupid the god of love like Sanji told him.

· With confusion taking over your mind you stopped in your tracks. Who on earth was he and that Sanji guy and why did he call me cupid? You wondered.

· And there you were looking at him with pure confusion while he looked at you with huge impressed and curious eyes for good 2 minutes until you shook your head and asked him who he and that Sanji were. He smiled at you and let himself fall down to sit cross- legged in front of you on the soft, warm sand. Now how do you think he introduced himself? Exactly my dear.

· “I am Monkey D. Luffy the future pirate King.”, “Huh?”, “And Sanji is one of my crew mates and the cook on my ship. Now tell me are you Cupid or not.”

· “Why would I be cupid?”, “Well you are wearing a pink white dress and you have a bow and arrows. So I thought that you might be on your way to shoot some people with them to make them fall in love. So, are you Cupid?”,

· “Alright first of all Cupid is a mythological creature made up by humans. He or she doesn´t exists. Secondly you really don´t look like a pirate nor do the others in your crew beside that one green haired man with the swords if he is also part of your crew. Thirdly you want to become the pirate king? Why?”

· And this my dear was how you two started a conversation that was to 50 % about him telling you stories of his adventures, 25 % basically about nonsense. And the other 25 % were… well that was about you telling him that you weren´t cupid but a actual human with the name f/n l/n. But he actually never got it. Until now.

· Eight years after your first encounter with the weird men called Monkey D. Luffy you still were busy telling him that you weren´t Cupid. But by now you not only had to tell him that but also your son who rather called you Cupid instead of mama.

· Congratulations you have two idiots in your life you love to the moon and back and would actually fight Garp for.

Bonus:

· “Does he really think that your Cupid or is that supposed to be something like a cute name?”, asked Dragon, the leader of the revolutionary army

· “I stopped thinking about that long ago, Sir. I really don´t know how to answer that. But just to make it clear if that confused you too. My name is y/n not Cupid.”, you told you father in Law with a sweet smile.

· “Wait. Cupid is not your name?! That brat introduced you to me as Monkey D. Cupid!”, Garp looked at you and Dragon with disbelieve.

· “If you ever wonder why you husband is so stupid just please now that, that stupidity comes from Garp. Not me. I swear.”

[hsinliu]

talk to me (ichirou moriyama)

there was a loud screeching sound, a tire nearly burning against asphalt, the car, a matte black expensive sport style one, abruptly stopped at the front of the building. ichirou, the current lord moriyama, walked out of the drivers seat and tossed the keys to the valet parking muttering a comand in rapid japanese, the valet parking bowed his head and held the keys close to his chest before hurrying to park the car.

ichirou was wearing his usual attire, a black fitted suit from some fancy designer which now had a fresh blood stain on the right cuff of the dress shirt, the thought of it irritated him, he walked to the elevator in long strides not making eye contact with anyone but everyone stopped walking as soon as they saw him and bowed his head. ichirou swiped the key card to his room, punched a code, did a retina scan and only then the door swung open with a beep.

the penthouse was illuminated briefly as a lighting struck outside and some seconds after the thunder coated ichirou's ears. ichirou rubbed between his eyebrows and changed his clothes into something more comfortable, not that he dislikes wearing suits but tonight he wanted to relax and didn't feel like dealing with curious eyes. ichirou walked out once he was ready.

"oyabun, where are you going? do you need to be scorted?" one of the guards outside his room asked, using the honorific freely as the building was secured.

"no, i'm just going to the convenience store. you can rest." this time ichirou made eye contact with the kobun, dismissing them with a slight hand movement.

now ichirou was wearing a dark blue baggy tracksuit. despite having his face half covered with the hood everyone bowed his head as he walked out, again.

next to the moriyama building there was a convenience store from a japanese chain since everything from american chains tasted like cardboard. ichirou crossed the door and the employee greeted him in japanese. walking down the aisles he picked some items to have dinner, he picked a potato and egg salad sandwich, yakisoba noodles, a cup of microwaveable rice, strawberry mochi for dessert and ice americano, he walked a bit more wondering what else he needed for the night and lastly picked a face mask that claimed contains colagen.

he dropped the items for the cashier to scan them. "i will take them." the cashier said, he was a young man, couldn't be older than 23 "it's 22.8 dollars."

"you're good looking." ichirou said looking directly at him.

"excuse me?" the boy asked, his cheeks blushing.

"do you take yens? i didn't bring any dollars." ichirou took out his wallet and then continued the previous conversation "like an idol, are you one of these?"

the boy's cheek were now an angry red, his eyes open wide in surprise. "huh? yeah we take yens, it's two hundred-" ichirou put a few five hundred yen bills on the counter before he finished the sentence and the boy hurried to give the change.

"keep the change." ichirou interrumpted his action and train of thought.

"it's too much, i can't-".

"keep the change, don't make me repeat myself again." ichirou said with a more serious tone but polite eyes who did not help the boy's blush.

grateful the boy bowed his head "thank you, lord-".

"don't. just call me ichirou." ichirou took the bag with his items "come sit with me " he suggested with a head tilt before walking to the sitting area, he dropped the things on a table and microwaved the rice, then he muttered 'thanks for the food' to no one in particular and finally began eating.

"am i in trouble, lord-" ichirou gave him an accusatory look "am i in trouble, ichirou?" he corrected himself.

ichirou spoke after a few mouthfuls of rice "what makes you believe that? and how did you know it was me?" the tone was friendly but the boy didn't feel any more comfortable.

"the- the tattoos." the cashier pointed to his own chest and ichirou looked down on himself, he then noticed the zipper was a little too low so his chest and a glimpse of his tattoos were visible. "i wasn't- i wasn't staring." but he was. "and i see you everyday, i mean, you always come back around this time, i always have the night shift."

ichirou zipped up the hoodie with a slight smile "ah, that makes sense. you didn't reply my other questions, tough." now he was mixing the yakisoba noodles with his chopsticks.

the boy gulped, his mouth dry. "i'm not an idol, i'm a college student. i thought i was in trouble since you requested me to come sit with you."

after eating half the noodles ichirou spoke "really? what college? maybe we're on the same campus. and no you are not in trouble i just wanted to have your company, you could have refused." ichirou spoke in a calm voice, pronouncing each word with delicacy.

"why are you asking so many questions about myself? i'm just an employee in this convenience store." the boy was fidgeting with a strand on his clothes.

"to answer your question, it's just as i told you you're good looking, isn't that reason enough to want to have your company? i like to be around beautiful people." ichirou took a sip of the ice americano and then bit the mochi "would you rather ask questions about myself instaed? we can do that, i know the surveillance of the store doesn't have audio, you can ask whatever you want." the boy didn't immediately speak and kept fidgeting not quite making eye contact "hey, look at me" ichirou said with a gentle voice touching the boy's chin with his index and middle finger so he would look up "i know i'm intimidating, i would feel insulted if you didn't think i am. i can stop talking if that's what you want, i'm just going to finish this" he pointed to his food "and then i'm going to walk out that door. if that's what you want." ichirou repeated, in hopes the boy didn't want that.

a few minutes passed and ichirou was almost finished with his food, he was on his last sip of ice americano when the boy finally spoke again "i'm going to OOO university by the way, and mmh i wanted to ask, why were you angry today?"

ichirou was both pleased and surprised by the question "oh, you noticed? well i was angry because a certain business didn't go as planed and because i don't like this weather." he flexed his right hand remembering the way he had broke someone's nose just a few hours ago.

the boy wanted to ask if he got into fights frequently or what kind of business was he refering to but instaed asked "what kind of weather do you like better? i like when it's cloudy but only when i get to stay home and watch movies." now he was more relaxed, he rested his elbows on the table and put his hand against his cheek, enhancing his boyish looks.

ichirou let out a laugh "yeah, this kind of weather is for people who can allow themselves to spend the whole day at home, it's not good for going to work, i like when it's sunny with a clear sky."

the cashier got a mental image of ichirou on a park or a garden enjoying the weather but then remembered something "i've seen a little girl around the moriyama building, is she your sister?"

"i don't have siblings." ichirou replied with a polite smile.

"oh? she looks like you, i was sure she was somehow related to you." the boy elaborated, not giving up on his theory.

"that is because she's my daughter." at this confesion the boy's eyes widened "she isn't usually in the country, you know for safety reasons, but she has been behaving like a brat lately so she comes back almost every weekend, the other kobuns say i spoil her too much but she's just a little girl, am i supposed to tell her no?, she can learn about the family business when she grows up there's no need for me to be rough with her from the start."

"she's going into the... business too?" the boy asked carefully, it sounded like ichirou is fond of her daughter so he wondered why he would want that for her.

ichirou removed his hoodie and ran a hand through his hair before putting it back on "i had her out of... tradition, i needed a successor and i ended up loving her, that's not how it should have been, that certainly didn't happen to me and my predecessor. but yes she's going into the business, i hope she doesn't hate me for it."

"did you? hate your- your predecessor for it?"

ichirou let out a humorless laugh "of course i did, i was ripped out of any normalness i could achieve before i even had it. maybe i'm doing it wrong, maybe giving her a normal life and then taking it off of her is going to do more harm than good. mmh? don't you think?"

the boy was startled by the sudden question. he didn't expect to be questioned on his opinion on ichirou's decisions on how to raise his daughter. he gulped and then spoke "i don't know what to tell you, i've never been in that kind of situation."

ichirou sighed loudly, finished his drink and threw it on a trash can "yeah, that was a weird thing to ask, sorry." he glanced sidelong at the cashier and smiled. "do you think it's pathetic that i came to some convenience store seeking for a friend?"

the cashier dropped his gaze fidgeted with the hem of his uniform and quietly said "i think you are... sad."

ichirou got up from his seat "i think it's time for me to go."

"we can be friends, if you need one." the boy got up too.

"i think it's best if we don't."

ichirou walked to the door and when he was about to walk out the boy spoke "you're so weird, did you know that? you literally said you were looking for a friend and when i suggest it you act like it's me the one pushing it."

"you are right but i really have to go now. i'm sorry."

the boy stood there for a while, then a group of teenagers entered the store making a fuss about what kind of food to buy. after they were gone the cashier refilled some aisles and finally sat behind the counter "did i accidentaly fall asleep at work and had a dream about having a conversation with the head of the moriyama family? i think so."

[mamanabeille]

As He Waits - Lukanette Exchange Fic

Here is my @lukanette-exchange fic for the lovely @airi-p4.  I’m sorry it’s a little late I would give you excuses but instead will just say that your piece inspired me to smooth out the last little bits.  I hope you enjoy it.  

He waits nervously at the end of the aisle of The Liberty, in between his mother and sister.  He attempts to spin the old ring on his thumb, knowing that in just a moment, he’ll have another adorning his hand.  His mother chuckles, “Calm yourself, boy.  She’ll be here in a moment.”  He looks around to the friends and family seated in rows along the deck, and thinks of the moments that have led them to this day. 

“Come on, Luka!  Just play with us,” a young Juleka begs tugging her brother’s arms to pull him along to her bedroom where the two other girls are waiting.  “We need a boy to be the groom.” 

Luka rolls his eyes, but lets his sister continue to guide him along. “Fine, but I’m not marrying you.  That’s too weird, even to pretend.” He shakes his head as if to clear the thought from his mind, and then adds quickly. “Or Rose.” 

“Got him,” Juleka announces triumphantly. “We have a groom for Marinette.” 

“I’m still not sure I want to be the bride,” the girl mutters quietly, flushing a deep red nearly hiding behind Rose. “Why not Rose, again?” 

“Because Luka is basically my brother too, and that’s gross. Come on Mari,” she begs cheerfully.   “There’s no point in playing wedding planner for forever if we don’t even get to have a wedding at the end.” 

Marinette tries to object a few more times, but none of her attempts produce any actual words, so she is ushered by the girls to the back of Juleka’s room so she can walk down ‘properly’ as Rose had said.    She makes her way up the makeshift aisle of fake rose petals that Marinette can only assume came from the bubblier of the two.  Luka can tell she is nervous so he offers him a smile and a little nod.  She smiles back at him.  Even at the age of cooties and boys vs girls, Luka is struck by how pretty she looks when she smiles at him. 

Once Marintte is standing next to Luka, Rose begins into a clearly plagerized speech on love and what has them all gathered there today. He’s sure it is from a movie, but he can’t exactly place which one.  He leans over to ask Marinette if she knows, but before he can get any words out she mutters quietly so the other two can’t hear, “Do you think she’s going to make us kiss?”

“She can’t make either one of us kiss each other, Marinette,” Luka tells her with a little laugh, before adding as an afterthought “And I won’t either.” 

Marinette physically relaxes at his words.  “Maybe just on the cheek,” she decides just as Rose is prompting her for the ‘I do’. 

Luka’s cheeks flush a soft pink at that, thankful that Marinette’s attention is no longer on him. He gives his response of ‘I do’ as well.  He leans forward to place a very soft, very quick kiss to Marinette’s cheek, and feels butterflies in his stomach for the first time in his life.  He ponders the meaning, but then Rose is hurting them back down the aisle, and he can hear the click click click of Juleka using their mother’s camera to snap photos, and the butterflies are gone. 

The music switches from the intro music to Canon in D and Luka glances over at Jagged with a little smile and nod as his father’s hands dance across the keys.  It had taken a while for them to get on good terms with one another once Anarka had confessed the rock star was indeed his and Juleka’s father.   Marinette had played a major part in encouraging them all to really spend time together and let each other into their lives. 

Luka doesn’t remember walking to the bakery.  The last thing he does remember are his mother’s words ringing in his ears. “It’s true, Jagged’s yer dad.” He’d walked out, maybe even ran.  He isn’t sure.  He has no clue how long he’d been wandering around the city before he ended up in the cafe.  He doesn’t even remember deciding that’s where he was going.  He doesn’t go in; just stands by the door.  It’s late, and he knows they are closed, but Tom must have been doing some prep for the next morning or cleaning up.  The baker opens the door, sees the expression on the young man’s face, and tells him to go on up to Marinette’s room.  “I’ll bring you two up something to eat and drink when I finish up here,” Tom tells him, unsurprised when he gets no reply. 

Marinette isn’t expecting him. It’s obvious by her startled jump as he weakly calls out her name.  

“Luka?” she whispered, dropping her sketchbook and practically running over to him. “You’re crying,” the words sound wrong on her tongue.  He isn’t crying.  He reaches up, feels his cheek, and sure enough his fingers come back damp.  “What happened?” she asks, pulling him further into her room. She guides him over to the chaise and he falls into her, resting his head against her shoulders and completely bursting into tears 

Marinette whispers little assurances and runs her fingers through his hair until he’s ready to talk.  Once he does, she repeats the whole process again.  By the time he’s all cried out, Tom has come and gone with cookies and milk that go untouched and a quick ‘he can stay here for the night if he wants’ before Marintte can even ask. 

As the music shifts all eyes shift to the back of the boat, to Marintte’s entrance. Not that Luka notices anyone other than the beautiful woman that he fell in love with so long ago.  She’s grinning back at him, and he knows he should look at her dress.  He knows that she’s put months of work and preparations into this exact moment, but his heart is aflutter and tears prickle his eyes.   He can’t bring himself to look away from her matching tear filled eyes for even a moment.  He quickly brushes away at his watery eyes, and catches Marinette let out a little giggle at the action before doing the same herself.

Marinette is finishing up the eggs when Luka comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. He takes in an over exaggerated breath.  “Mmmm.  Breakfast for dinner.  My favorite.” 

“I know,” she chuckles proudly, turning over the bacon. 

“Need help with anything?” he asks her, nuzzling his head into her neck. 

She shakes her head with a ‘nope’ and turns to kiss his cheek.  He smiles back at her with an adoring boyish grin that she's never seen on him before. She pulls back just slightly to look at him properly.  “What?” she asks softly. 

“I love you.” 

Marinette drops the spatula at his words, frozen in place, her cheeks a deep red flush.  She grins bigger than he’s ever seen, but struggles to form any other words. 

“Marinette, your eggs are burning.”  

Marinette lets out a laugh that sends sparks through Luka.  “I love you, too!”  She goes to throw her arms around his neck. In her haste to pull him into a kiss, and have her lips against hers, she catches the side of the pan with her forearm.  Her eyes instantly fill with tears and sobs out a curse.

“Shit, Nette,” Luka gasps, pulling her away from the stove and guiding her over to the sink  He mutters a soft, “It’s okay, babe” as he gets her to place her arm under the cool  running tap.  “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she hisses, trying to hold back tears.  “It’s not the worst burn I’ve ever gotten.”  She glances down at her arm with a wince. “Of the worse, but not the worst.” She holds her breath for a few moments through the pain.

Luka grabs the first aid kit from under the sink and rummages around looking for a salve, gauze, and tape. “Only you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he dresses the wound. 

“You love me,” she practically giggles. 

“Very much,” he nods, leaning to capture her lips with his. 

Luka finally allows himself to take in the full sight of her.  He is struck in awe, as he is nearly every time he sees her creations, by her pure talent, skill, and creativity. 

Luka is awoken from his midday nap by a knock on the door.  He yawns deeply, making his way over, and opening it lazily.  “-ello,” he greets, not even bothering to see who it is. 

“Lu-luka?” Marintte whimpers.  

It promptly wakes him out of his daze and he pulls her into his chest.  “Marientte,” he asks shocked, ushering them inside and closing the door behind them.  “What’s the matter?” 

“I didn’t get it.” She finally manages to get out after a few sniffles and sobs.  “I though-thought for sure I would. I mean, I’ve been working with Gabriel for years.  I know his style. I know what he likes and what he doesn’t.  I have been his top apprentice for nearly as long as I’ve been with the company and he gave the partnership to another designer.” 

“Oh, Nette.”  He rubs circles on her back with a sigh.  “You’re an amazing designer, and you know you are. He’s going to regret it one day.  That sucks though, and I’m sorry.  What do you need from me?” 

“I just want to cuddle and cry,” she tells him with a humph. 

“I am always down for cuddles,” he chuckles, tilting her chin up gently and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m not going to tell you not to cry, but I am going to try to make you smile. You know that, right?” 

“I know.” She nods weakly and follows as he leads her to the couch, never fully leaving the embrace. 

He puts on an animated movie he knows she loves, but he’s never really cared for, and lets her cry on his chest. The tears eventually fade to sniffles, which soon die down to her breath evening out, and Luka realizing that she’s fallen asleep.  He kisses the top of her head, and rubs circles up and down her back.  

“Thanks, Lu.” Marinette whispers a little while later.  “I’m sorry I cried on you.” 

“Hey,” Luka says sharply,  catching her attention.  “Never apologize for me being the one you lean on, Marinette.  I want to be that person for you.  You are welcome to break down anytime and anyplace with me, do you understand?  

She nods gently and buries her face into his neck, and places a soft kiss there.  He feels his breath catch in his throat, and he’s sure she can hear him swallow the lump.  “I love you, Luka.” 

“I love you too,” he tells her with a soft kiss to the forehead. 

Tom leans down to whisper something in her ear, kisses her cheek, and releases her hand to place in it his. Luka squeezes her hand gently.  He can't believe this moment is happening.  He’s been dreaming of it since the very first time Tom ushered him to her. 

When Luka picks her up that evening, his breath catches in his throat.  He’s never seen Marintte out of her usual school outfit.   However when Tom ushers him into the cafe and Marinette makes her way down the stairs, she’s in a swirly skirt instead of her usual jeans.  He can’t help but stare for a moment until Tom chuckles and pats him on the back.  He’s thankful that he’s traded in his faded hoodie for a nicer leather jacket.  “Hi,” she blushes, once she’s standing in front of him. 

“Hey,” he manages to get out over the lump in his throat.  “You look beautiful, marinette.”  

“You too- I mean handsome,” Marinette huffs, covering her face with her hands momentarily to cover her embarrassed blush.  “You look great I mean.” 

Tom chuckles again and Sabine reminds them to be home before eleven as they  leave. 

“I was thinking coffee and then a little music place I know of, if you’re good with that,” Luka tells her, reaching for her hand as they walk.  “Is this okay?” he asks, nodding down to their intertwined hands. 

She nods happily.  “That sounds wonderful.  Oh, are you going to play?  You don’t have your guitar though.  Not sure I”ve seen you without it much. 

I left it at home.  You’re my main focus tonight.   

Marientte feels her stomach warm and can't hide the grin on her face.  Luka is pretty sure it’s his favorite sight in the world. 

Luka guides her up a couple of steps to where the three other Couffaines are waiting for them.  Rose leans forwards and squeezes Marintte tightly in a hug.   Juleka takes the opportunity to kiss his cheek and tell him how happy she is for him, for both of them.  The bride and groom clasp hands and Luka leans forward to place a soft kiss on Marintte’s forehead.  “I love you,” he mouths, silently.  “I love you, too,” she whispers back as Anarka begins her speech by welcoming everyone there. 

When Luka opens his eyes to morning sunlight, and is met with his favorite sight in the world. Marintte is still asleep on the pillow next to him.  When she’s awake, she usually has a million things on her mind, and it shows.  He always feels a warmth in his chest when he catches her like this, perfectly still and completely at peace.  It’s the only time he realizes how truly small she is, and it amazes him the strength that she harbors in such a slight frame.  He spends the next several moments simply watching her, until her eyes start to slowly flutter open. 

“..Mmm. Morning,” she yawns, scooting closer to him and nuzzling her head into the nook of his shoulder. Warm,” she hums, happily.  Luka smiles into the kiss he places onto the top of her head.  “This is nice,” he sighs contently, and she responds with a gentle nod of her head and a little murmur of content. “Marry me?” the words are out of his mouth without him really thinking, but he means them with every single atom of his being. 

“Of course,” she mumbles, her lips brushing up against his skin as she does. 

“Nettie, I’m serious,” he tells her with a small chuckle, at her half awake tone. 

“What?” she pulls back, to look him in the eyes in disbelief.  “You’re serious?” 

“I am,” he nods.  He brushes back some of the loose hair that has escaped her ponytail in the night and fallen in her face. He tucks it behind her ear and stokes the line of her jaw right below with his thumb.  “I want to wake up next to you every single morning for the rest of my life, love.   You are the most important part of my life. I want you to be my future.  I want this,” he looks between the two of them and squeezes her hand that he doesn’t remember grasping.  “I love you.” 

“I want that too,” she smiles, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “I love you.”  She grins even bigger and throws his arms clumsily around his neck, pulling him even closer.  He rolls on top of her, deepening the kiss, pulling away only for the occasional breath and to mutter ‘I love you’.  

An eruption of cheers booms across the boat, as Luka kisses her, bending her into a deep dip.  They both come up beaming and make their way back down the aisle as Mr and Mrs Couffaine. 

[shotsbyshae]

Stone Cold

Warnings: Language

Words: 2.8k

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ransom has one last interview left for his book. 

Sequel to In the Dark

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

*Spoiler free: no movie connections whatsoever.

God knows I tried to feel, Happy for you. Know that I am, even if I, Can’t understand, I’ll take the pain.

The door to your apartment creaks as it opens, and your entire body goes numb as you see the man step into view. The remorseful look in his steel blue eyes tells you everything you need to know, but you ask anyway.

“He stayed with her, didn’t he?”

The tears well up in your eyes and Barnes closes the short distance to wrap his arms around you, sinking with you to the floor as silent tears stream down your face.

“I’m sorry – I’m so sorry, doll.”

“No – no,” you whisper quietly.

After everything.

Natasha.

Tony.

You can’t wrap your mind around how he could do this.

“Hey,” Ransom’s voice brings you back to the present. “What do you think? Wilson said he knew Rogers the longest, but I can’t get him to return my calls.”

You sigh because you’re not sure it’ll do any good. Sam had settled with a phone interview because he and Barnes were away on a mission, but Barnes had refused even that.

“I’ll talk to him,” you remark quietly. “He usually listens to me.”

Ransom stands from the chair in your living room and begins to approach where you stand in your kitchen, his head tilting curiously, “Really?”

You take a bite of the frosted flakes cereal from the bowl in front of you, shaking your head at him as you do so. “Nuh uh.” You mumble around the food in your mouth. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he smirks. “This is – classic.” You take another bite of cereal as Ransom leans against your counter. “You were pining and the best friend swoops in to – comfort you.”

“It’s not like that,” you state flicking your eyes over to him. “We’re friends.” You clench your jaw in annoyance as Ransom continues to stare at you with that boyish grin.

“Friends,” he reiterates not believing you.

“There was one tequila infused night that we don’t talk much about – okay.”

“I knew it!”

“Don’t make me stab you,” the words slip past your lips only half threatening as you point your spoon at him.

“With that?” Ransom questions, eyeing the utensil.

“It’ll hurt more,” you reply before shoving it back into bowl of cereal.

Later that afternoon

You spin quickly, but he grabs your wrist instantly. The vibranium is cool against your skin and the mechanisms in his hand make an almost ominous sound as his grip tightens and he flips you onto your back.

“You’re rusty,” Bucky remarks before helping you up from the sparring mat.

“Says the hundred-year-old man,” you state under your breath.

“I’m kicking your ass, aren’t I?”

“Oooohhh,” you cut your eyes over at him. “That new haircut is making you cocky.”

Tossing him his water bottle first before you take a long drink from your own, you contemplate how to ask your next question. With a sigh you finally do it, “Will you talk to Drysdale – please?”

A groan escapes the man in front of you and a look of annoyance crosses his face, “So, that’s the reason for your visit.”

“And to let you kick my ass,” you smirk at him, trying to ease his irritation.

He shakes his head at you, “I’ve seen photos. He looks just like him, doesn’t that bother you?”

“At first.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, “Why do you care – about the book?”

You glance down at the bottle in your hand, wanting to give him the same excuse you’d given Sam when he’d asked you the same question.

Because Fury had asked you to.

However, you know Barnes can see through even the slightest of lies when it comes to you. “Regardless of what he did,” your words come out slowly. “Steve was the best of us.” You glance up at your friend. “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of that.”

A grin crosses his face, “He used to say that you were the best of us.” Your brows furrow in confusion and Bucky continues. “That even if the whole world sees the devil, you would only see a fallen angel.”

Your lips turn up in a sad smile, “Of course he did – jerk.”

“He was a punk,” Bucky comments reminiscently.

You fold your arms across your chest, “He was never mine, Buck. Part of me knew that going in, and I did it anyway.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

You shake your head slightly, “I don’t, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Bucky’s hand reaches for your shoulder, pulling you into a loose hug. You accept the embrace and wait a moment before continuing. “So, you’ll talk with Drysdale?”

Barnes sighs, “I guess.”

“Thank you.”

2 Days Later

Ransom’s phone vibrates from the dresser in the hotel room, and he quickly looks to see a new message from you.

My place 2pm today. Bucky will be here for your interview.

He smiles as he types his response.

Good job. You two better be dressed when I get there. No Tequila.

Your response is quick.

Shut up. Also, it's been a long week and I plan on binging Netflix while eating my body weight in pizza tonight, so the interview better be over by 5.

Drysdale laughs at your statement.

Promise. Besides I have a date at 7.

With who?

Girl I met in the hotel lobby.

Careful, if she’s named after a flower or food, she’ll expect payment at the end of the night.

Ransom sends two laughy face emojis, followed by the middle finger one.

 You had offered up your apartment as a neutral meeting ground for Bucky to have the sit-down interview with Ransom, that didn’t mean you wanted to be present.

“Where’s –” Drysdale begins to question Barnes as he shrugs off his coat, looking around the apartment for you.

“She went for coffee,” Bucky responds, watching the man closely.

“Coffee – sure,” he states, pulling a notebook and pen from his bag, part of him disappointed that you aren’t present for the interview. Given your history with Barnes, you might be able to pull more information from him than Ransom could alone.

Bucky spends the next forty-five minutes answering questions about the years he spent with Steve before the serum – the war. All while trying to figure out the man sitting across from him who looks eerily similar to his best friend. Barnes doesn’t trust easily, especially trust fund, playboy types who seem to have ulterior motives.

It only takes an hour for those possible motives to make an appearance. Barnes had spoke earlier of Steve’s relationship with Peggy and Ransom had gotten his opinion on their dynamic, but it isn’t until Bucky mentions your name that he notices a shift in Drysdale’s demeanor.

“What can you tell me about their relationship?” Ransom questions with his phone lying in the center of the coffee table, recording every word they’re saying.

“Is that important to the book?” Bucky asks, almost defensively.

“Well – yea,” Ransom responds. “I want to show that relationship as well. To lose the love of your life, wake up seventy years in the future. Having to learn so much, including how to love again. She loved him, that much I know.” He hesitates a moment. “And he loved her.”

“He did,” Bucky practically cuts him off.

“O-kay,” Drysdale replies. “And – then he left.” Barnes stares at him threateningly before he leans back on the couch, folding his arms across his chest as Ransom continues. “I’m just trying to figure out why.”

“Why?”

“It really seemed to affect her,” Ransom replies, watching the man across from him curiously, unsure who’s interviewing who now.

“Of course it affected her,” Bucky states. “Don’t sit there acting like you know her – you don’t. I was there – you weren’t. I thought this book was about Steve.” Drysdale shifts in his chair as Bucky continues. “Is that what all this is really about – her?”

Ransom narrows his eyes, “No.”

Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “See – I’m beginning to think it is. That’s why you tracked her down, because she didn’t fall into bed with you. Then, to your surprise, you find out about Steve and it gives you the perfect reason to hang around – a book.” He watches Ransom’s jaw clench. “I’ve known men like you. Always wanting what you can’t have and trying to burn the whole world down just to get it.” Bucky can see the anger on his face, but he doesn’t ease up. “All because – why? Your mother didn’t hug you enough as a child?”

“Careful Barnes,” Ransom sneers. “You’re sounding a bit jealous.”

Bucky laughs, “Trust me, I’ll never be jealous of you.” He stands up from the couch, glaring down at Ransom. “Because, I know her, and she’ll never be able to look at you and not see him.” A small malicious smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She’ll always see Steve.”

Drysdale drops his notebook on the coffee table as he stands up, eyes narrowing at the man across from him, “Keep telling yourself that, if it helps you sleep better at night.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Although, I would think that would be the last thing to keep you up at night, being a former Hydra assassin and all. Exactly how many people have you killed Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky’s fists clench at his sides, “Too many, but I can always add one more.”

“That’s enough, Buck,” you state angrily, glaring at the two of them.

They were so wrapped in up asserting their dominance, neither of them heard you come through the door. Your arms are folded across your chest angrily and both of them look at you in surprise.

“I should go,” Bucky states, crossing the room towards you.

“Yea,” your answer is sharp. “We’ll discuss this later.”

He gives a curt nod, already hearing your voice yelling at him in the back of his mind.

You and your overprotective big brother bull shit.

You’ve used the phrase once or twice with him before.

Your gaze follows Bucky as he exits your apartment.

The tension in the room is heavier than it’s ever been.

No doubt because of the conversation with Barnes. He hadn’t let him see it, but his words had affected Drysdale. Your eyes drift back to Ransom and he can see a softness there – you aren’t angry with him.

There’s a touch of sadness in your eyes and his brow furrows, “He’s right, isn’t he?”

“What?” confusion apparent on your face.

“You see him,” Ransom’s tone turns hard – cold. “When you look at me – don’t you?”

Your shoulders drop – voice quiet, “Don’t.” There’s a pause as he glares at you, your eyes pleading with him to stop. “Please – don’t do this.”

“You were in love with him,” he begins angrily. “So, it’s nothing about me. Everything you’ve done for me is because of his face. Because he was a better man than I’ll ever be – right?”

You fight back the tears as you raise your voice, “Stop!” You take a forceful step towards him. “You’re right, I did see him when I first met you, and yea, just looking at you was the hardest thing I’d ever done.” Ransom watches you carefully, determined to know the truth. “Part of me hated your face, because he fucking left.”

“Why?” Ransom questions, and you start to shake your head. He watches you bite the inside of your lip. “Why would he leave – abandon you?” He knows that word that will set you off.

You glance over at the picture of you and Steve on your shelf, “He knew I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have Sam – Buck.” The words angry as you swallow the lump in your throat. “So, he didn’t abandon me. Or us, because he knew the three of us would have each other. I guess that’s what made it okay in his mind.”

“That’s fucked up,” Ransom says quietly. “If he loved you –”

“She had his heart,” you reply sincerely. “I could never compete with that.” You glance back to the man in front of you. “So no – I don’t see him. I haven’t for a while, Ransom.” Your voice barely above a whisper as you admit it. “I only see you.”

His breathing falters at your statement and he reaches to turn off the recording app on his cellphone before he sits back down on the sofa. You move slowly over, glancing at the coffee table where the notebook is. Reaching for it, you half-expect him to stop you, but he doesn’t. You begin to read over some of the messily jotted down lines.  

Steve Rogers believed in doing what was right, regardless of the consequences.

A true hero (more than once) when the country needed it the most.

Rogers was a friend to everyone and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for a friend.

He was loved twice by women (not only beautiful, but smart and strong) with such passion – ferocity – most people are lucky to experience that kind of love just once in their lifetime.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you read the last lines and Ransom speaks quietly, “Are you still in love with him?”

You glance at him thoughtfully for a moment, “No, but there is a part of me that will always care for him.” There’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes and you change the subject. “Why did you track me down?” Hearing Bucky’s question earlier had brought it back to your mind. “Because I know it wasn’t easy – and it wasn’t over a wallet.”

“I don’t know,” he flicks his eyes up at you, seeing the expectant look on your face. “Maybe it was the fact you were just so – real. I mean – aside from the fact you were lying.” You can’t help but smirk as he continues. “Even as Natalie, you weren’t fake with me. I’d never experienced that before.”

There’s a warm smile on your face as you lay the notebook back on the coffee table, “Well, when you finish this book, maybe you should get out more.”

“Funny you mention that,” Ransom stands as you start toward the kitchen. “I have an idea for another book I want to run by you.”

You turn around curiously, “Run by me – why?”

“Well, Granddad is known for his murder mysteries,” Ransom begins, eyeing you closely for your reaction. “I thought I might give it a shot, maybe put a different spin on it. Instead of far-fetched ideas, going more of a ‘based on actual events’ route.” Your mouth begins to open slightly as you see the grin forming on his face. “Granddad’s leading characters were always men, so I’m thinking for my leading character a female secret agent perhaps.”

“Me?” the look of shock on your face is hilarious.

“Well,” Ransom smirks. “She would have to be smart. Funny. Attractive is a given.” You fold your arms across your chest as he takes a few steps closer to where you stand. “Intimidating. Definitely a bad ass.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

His face lights up, “All the missions you’ve been on, all the secrets S.H.I.E.L.D.’s kept, I might could shadow you on future ops.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ransom’s face instantly falls, and he looks similar to a sad golden retriever.

“If you want to stay in New York – stay.” you remark, watching him carefully. “But you’re not writing a book about me.”

There’s a smug look on his face as he responds, “It’s not about you – it’s about Natalie.” You narrow your eyes at the man, and he holds his hands up defensively, “Okay – fine.” He turns around and walks back over to the coffee table and begins to gather his things.

You watch him for a moment, remembering he’s going back to his hotel, probably to get ready for his date with random lobby girl. The feeling you’re having makes you want to scream into the nearest throw pillow.

What – why?

Are you seriously jealous right now?

You can feel the heat starting at the base of your neck and you take a deep breath before speaking, “Hey – do you wanna stay?” He stops packing his bag to glance up at you, seeing something unusual on your features – trepidation. “We could order in – watch a movie.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “Sure.”

There is nothing he wants more than to spend the evening with you, eating take-out and watching old movies, because you see him and not many people do.

But who in their right mind leaves a beautiful blonde waiting in a hotel lobby across town for a date, without so much as a call or a text to let her know he can’t make it?

He does.

Because after all –

Ransom Drysdale’s an asshole.

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