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yuoimia · 1 month ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ SAVED NUMBERS

summary: you’re not the only one trying to keep it together (conversations over the phone) based off this scene from summer strike. characters: alhaitham, kinich, childe notes: fluff, teasing, mention of anxiety in kinich’s, wc: 1.3k

alhaitham

A sudden pattern of musical chimes sliced through the silence of the dark bedroom.

Automatically, a cathartic groan and yawn escape from your mouth as you blindly manoeuvred your hand across your nightstand, finally seizing the source of the irritating noise. A tap of your finger revealed the time and responsible caller.

“Is he crazy?” you abruptly sat up, roughly rubbing your eyes as if it there were some kind of mistake. “It’s 4am, for goodness sake.” Nevertheless, your finger swiped to answer the call, sinking yourself back into the warmth of the thick blankets and pillows and holding the phone close to your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you drawled, switching your attention from the ceiling to the phone.

“I couldn’t sleep,” came a breathy reply, those three words fluctuating in audibility. A faint hint of laughter. “But to answer your question, yes I do. It’s 4:06am.”

His voice is tender and doused in fatigue, a rare state to find the illustrious scribe. Gentle rustling of a comforter and indistinct breaths over the line. How close was he holding the phone? As if instinctual, you raise a hand against your lips to suppress any traces of nervousness and regulate the rapid beating echoing in your chest.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” he asked albeit suddenly, the sounds of movement halting.

You turned over and pulled the blanket to signify your consciousness, clearing your throat. “No,” then smiling as you added, “does my absence go as far as to completely disturb your precious sleep?”

Despite the cool emptiness of the night, the momentous distance that separated you both felt unimportant and forgotten. “You’re so bold.” Imperceptible traces of adoration intertwining within his voice, “but you’ve never been wrong when it comes to me.”

kinich

The scent of salt and sweet fruit juice swept through the open window of your rented cabin, sweeping the sheer curtains that adorned the wooden sides in graceful arches. Beyond the intricate frames stretched the breathtaking vastness of a tired sky, dwindling from its vibrant hues to a soothing navy blue, the prelude to a serene night blessed with stars. Faraway music and laughter echoed through the rolling hills of the People of the Springs, their infectious celebrations spilling through the evening, washing away any last remnants of worry or doubt that were previously clawing in your guts. It felt strange, almost eerie, somehow. Everything that once seemed so big and important felt so small and trivial against the quiet sanctuary where thoughts could gather by choice. This fragile feeling of saturated peace was always depicted as something temporary, and perhaps it was, but its value always lasted infinitely.

You take a step back and turn yourself to survey the cabin, leaning your hands against the windowsill. A coastal design with a minimal palette of blues and greys. Warm lamps scattered from the corners of the room to the ceilings of the ensuite. Puffy armchairs and beige bohemian couches around the edges of the bed, generously sized and cocooned by thick blankets and billowy pillows.

From beneath one of the blankets, a faint light emits through the fabric, simultaneous with the constant vibrating. The contact name elicits a soft smile, wasting no time to slide your finger to answer the call.

“I thought you’d forget,” you admitted, sinking yourself into the plush mattress. You laid on your back, an outstretched arm over your head as another held the phone.

“I’m offended that you thought so,” came his lofty reply. He was always so casual with his way of speaking. Blunt in some eyes, but equally endearing.

“I don’t have much time before Ajaw comes back,” and as if sensing your confusion, he adds, “I sent him on an… impromptu and urgent mission.”

His earnestness, so refreshing in the midst of such a quiet evening, brought forth a fit of laughter that resonated in your chest, and spread through the form of euphoria into your veins, warm and delicately precious. “It’s not late yet. Did you trick Ajaw into completing your commissions for you?”

His response was a half-hearted ‘hmm’. If this was a video call, you’re 99% sure that it would be accompanied by an even more half-hearted shrug. A moment to close his eyes, too.

“Poor Ajaw,” you jested, leaning to your side. “Out doing his master’s work while he handles other things he deems more important.”

“This is more important,” Kinich replies thoughtfully. “I wanted to say I love you before you went to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re completely suspended in silence, as if time momentarily halted. Did you hear that right? Of course you did; it wasn’t anything shocking. He was probably teasing you, provoking a reaction, like usual.

“The sun is still setting; what made you think I’d sleep this early?” You were nosy now, curiosity piqued at what he had to reason. I wanted to say I love you. It chanted like a spell, casting you into a dazed and smiling mess. I wanted to say I love you.

“The People of the Springs pride themselves on their bustling atmosphere. You’re not the type to miss out on that. Knowing you, you’ve probably exhausted yourself and are lying in bed as we speak.”

Bingo, bingo, and bingo.

childe

Only three more hours…

Boredom and exhaustion rippled through your body as you cupped your face in your hands, leaning absentmindedly over the front counter of the Northland Bank. Ornamental decorations occasionally twinkled when someone would enter, lazily drifting for a few seconds before falling back right into place, mirroring your state quite accurately. Each person was greeted in the same, uniform way. You’d briskly straighten with a polished smile, brightly posing a list of questions everyone would be asked before slouching back down once you successfully redirected them to an appropriate staff member.

“It would probably be dark by the time I’m out,” you mumbled with a ghost of a pout at the door, gazing half-heartedly at the tinted panels lined near the ceiling. Spotting a loose pen on the floor, you bent to retrieve it when the sound of a phone ringing from a cupboard caught your attention.

Answering personal calls while on the job was a strict regulation that was generally prohibited. Even so, you pondered, folding your arms and sneaking sideways peeks at the entries to empty hallways, so painfully desolate that even it too seemed opposed to any opportunity for distraction, those heedless and sickeningly pompous higher-ups would never dream of working on a Saturday afternoon, more or less care if a forgettable receptionist were to be caught on the phone.

“Hello?” you answered flatly, clearly disinterested in who the caller was from the way you didn’t bother to check the contact name before holding the phone close to your ear. Indistinct sounds of metal clashing and dull thuds echoed in response, and oddly, the bubbling of rushing water.

“Hello?” you repeated once again, a bit more forcefully in case the recipient couldn’t hear over the bizarre assortment of noises. A new round of agitation flushed through your body at the callers purposeful disregard, heat clambering up your face. Within the second you seriously contemplated hanging up, a panting voice emerged, and with it, a fervent series of persistent coughing and choking.

“Hey, don’t hang..up,” the voice, weak but evenly enthusiastic. “Sorry about that, I called, then a random army of treasure hoarders started attacking me from nowhere, and I had to-“

“Is this who I think it is?” Pausing in disbelief from amazement, you felt surges of every possible emotion colliding against each other in nauseating rounds inside your head. Hearing his voice so close by your ear whilst being surrounded by the bleakest of places felt like a taste of something divinely transcendental.

“Who else?” a breathless laugh came from the person on the other line. “I know…you told me to not call you unless it was an emergency, but hey, i’ve got your attention now, and I’d like to savour that for as long as I can.”

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #kinich x reader #kinich x you #childe x reader #anya writes ᝰ.ᐟ

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haeryna · 10 months ago

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thinking about idol!gojo and rockstar!geto (tw: mentions of underage drinking, implied abandonment, implied homophobia from gojo's parents, vague mentions of illness)

how you three, along with shoko, lived in the same ratty small town in the middle of nowhere. you'd moved when you were six, all shy and scared of the house your parents had moved to in order to help your sick grandmother that you barely remembered because the last time you'd seen her was when you were four. you were from the city; you'd never seen fireflies, or grass that stretched out as far as your eyes could see, and so when you saw the first firefly appear just as the sky turned to dusk, how were you supposed to resist it?

so you chased it down to the creek, all smiles and filled with excitement, until you realized it was dark, and you were in the forest, and you were scared. you couldn't help but start to cry, and that's where geto found you.

"are you lost?"

sniffling, you peered up at the dark haired boy, whose soft brown eyes filled with a sort of concern. "y-yeah," you hiccupped, and geto offers up a gentle smile. "it's okay, i know the way back."

and so, you'd taken his hand, let him tug you out of the creek bed, and lead you back toward the house that still didn't quite feel like home. you'd learn, his name was suguru. suguru geto, and wherever suguru geto was, satoru gojo was never too far behind (although you didn't know that, yet).

"you crying?"

you'd let out a startled yelp, still clinging to suguru's hand, twisting to look at the other boy who was staring at you with unrestrained curiosity. even at the age of six, you found him beautiful, with the piercing blue of his eyes, and the soft white down of his hair, even as he mocked you. satoru hadn't known how else to express the sort of silent jealousy that had torn its way through his chest once he saw you holding suguru's hand.

the two of you bickered, all the way back until they left you at your front door, much to suguru's displeasure. yet satoru was beaming; nobody but suguru and shoko dared to speak to him that way. he was too young to understand the way his heart seemed to churn every moment he saw you after .

later, you would meet shoko ieiri, who instantly took a liking to you, defending you with the stubbornness of an older sister you never had.

later, you would realize just how beautiful suguru and satoru were, as they grew. you were the one who pierced suguru's ears (a decision made at 1am in his basement), who bought satoru his first eyeshadow palette (his parents would have died if they'd ever see him use it). and it was eventually you who brought them into music, as you stared up at the ceiling of suguru's basement. the lights grew hazy as you blinked up at them, empty bottles of stolen beer surround you. suguru and shoko were busy smoking a pack of (also stolen) cigarettes, and satoru was on his phone.

"what if we like. made a band?"

you were only 16, and dreamed of leaving the small town you'd moved to. the temporary stay had turned permanent after your grandmother had inevitably passed. shoko immediately snorted. "i love you, but i can't sing for shit."

but you were persistent. you thrifted an old guitar that you gave to suguru as a birthday present, encouraged satoru's angelic singing.

you should have known they would outgrow you.

you're 21 now, still living in the old house, taking care of your parents. the dreams you'd had years ago turned into ash in your mouth. even shoko had left, off to pursue medical school.

you can't stomach looking at the news anymore. satoru has broken into the idol industry, creating equal amounts of chart toppers and scandals. an idol like that only comes once every one hundred years, they say. with the way he moves, the way he acts, you're inclined to believe it.

(when you watch him for the first time, on some variety show, you see him, see the way they've done his makeup, and you're brought back to sitting on the couch, telling him to stop moving or he'll mess up the eyeshadow you attempting to apply. you wonder if his parents were furious at the decision. you wonder where the eyeshadow palette you gave him went. did he take it with him before he left for good? bile rises heavy in your throat, and you shut off the television, unable to stomach it any longer.)

the radio is equally as traitorous. you know suguru has been dominating the indie charts, to the point where it's simply suguru and satoru competing against each other. you hate how whenever you go to the local bakery, you can hear his voice again playing through the speakers. hate how when you make the long drive to pick up your parents' medicine, how you can hear him through your car's speakers. it feels intimate in a way that you cannot bear.

(still, you hear the guitar and remember the look in his eyes when you gifted him the one you'd found in the thrift store. suguru had treated it reverently, telling you with an earnest sort of smile that, "the first song i write will be for you." he's traded out acoustics for rock. he has no need for that guitar anymore, you think absentmindedly. just like he no longer needed you.)

but what you don't know is that every time satoru's makeup artist gets to his eyes, he has to keep them firmly shut or else he'd burst into tears. she didn't do it like you. she never would. every time he steps onto the stage, he looks for you, though he knows he'll never find you. it never stops him from looking. how he sings his heart out in the hopes you'll hear him, unaware that despite his popularity, you avoid his music like it's deadly.

what you don't know is that every time suguru writes, he realizes how he lied to you. "the first song i'll write will be for you," he remembers, and yet now every song he writes is about you. now, girls he doesn't even know, screams his name, screams along to his songs that he wrote for you. they pretend that they're the girl who was left behind, the girl that he's never stopped loving.

(he'll never forget the way your hand fit into his, how even at the age of six he knew that you were the only one who ever had his heart along with satoru)

how on days he misses you particularly badly, the piercings you'd given him burns. he writes his love into his music, the music that you shut off every time you hear it come on the radio.

it changes nothing, if they come back, you tell yourself. suguru and satoru have each other. they don't need you.

but one day they do come back, come back for you, and it changes everything.

#haerinwrites #satosugu x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #satosugu #suguru x reader #geto x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #you cannot tell me gojo would not be a kpop idol he is so bbygirl #i need indie singer geto so bad. not want. need.

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dalishious · 5 months ago

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Dragon Age: The Veilguard Q&A Notes Part 2

There are "fade-touched" enemies in Arlathan.

The detonation combos are meant to create a feeling of teamwork.

You can select both your pronouns and gender separately. The character creation is extremely deep. There was a focus on skin tones done respectfully!

They are actively looking into developing a photomode for the game.

The ability wheel does have a capacity. You can choose three abilities for Rook, and three for each companion. This means strategizing is important before the mission. There will be an "ultiamte" ability associated with your class. There are also runes that can be used as temporary buffs.

There are "Frost Nova" and "Meteor" abilities similar to "Cone of Cold" and "Fireball" in the past.

They have spent time on accessibilty features, but will not share details until closer to launch.

It's been about ten years since the events of Trespasser. Solas's ritual has taken time to set up, and Rook is coming in at the end of that.

In Thedas, ancient elves go bald after a millennia. Solas was not always bald! "If you see Solas in the past, he will look different."

Companions have specific colour palettes and styles, but you can modify them.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #dav #datv qa

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pokemonfangame · 8 months ago

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PokéRogue - Web-Based Pokémon Roguelite

It's a browser-based roguelite based around the Pokémon battle engine. This game was developed from the ground up using the Phaser3 2D game framework. As a roguelite, it's a game where you play temporary sessions or 'runs' rather than a single playthrough, though there are many unlockables that carry over to make future runs easier. This game has no overworld, and the entire game takes place within the battle engine for the sake of simplicity.

Features:

Mobile support

Cloud saves - seamlessly swap devices on the same account

All Pokémon species from generation 1-9

All moves and abilities from generation 1-9 available but not necessarily implemented (this is an ongoing effort, unimplemented content will be labelled as such in-game)

35 biomes with their own original background art, Pokémon pools, and trainer pools

Animated sprites

In-game day/night cycle

Stacking item system inspired by Risk of Rain 2

A large variety of items to find randomly throughout your runs

Classic and endless game modes

Daily scored runs with a leaderboard and egg voucher rewards

Gacha system for Pokémon eggs with vouchers obtainable through normal gameplay (no real money involved)

No level or stat cap

Starter system, where any first stage evolution can be used as a starter once they are caught or hatched (including mythicals and legendaries)

Original rival and player characters (1 pair for male and female respectively)

Any 2 Pokémon of different species can be fused with DNA splicers to trade abilities, average stats, and merge learnsets (fused Pokémon are dynamically palette swapped)

Various mainline gimmicks including mega forms, gigantamax forms, and terastallization

#Pokemon #Pokemon fan art #Pokemon fangame #PokeRogue #play in a browser

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capuccinodoll · 19 days ago

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The Confession

Before the sun hits (chapter five)

Summary: Joel wants to know more about your dream, and he might make it come true.

You walked down the stairs humming the last tune that had spun through your mind in the shower—China Girl by Bowie. The song’s notes lingered on your lips, a little offbeat, but it didn’t matter. The warmth of the shower still clung to your skin, and you realized just how much you’d needed that heat until it washed over you, easing the tension you hadn’t known you were holding. Even though the rumbling thunder outside made you tense up a little, the cascade of water had been a comfort, like a temporary escape.

Bundled up in your favorite lounge clothes—pajama pants, a worn-in cotton T-shirt, and an oversized sweater that practically swallowed you—you made your way downstairs. The rain was still lashing against the roof, a steady downpour that filled the house with its rhythmic patter, creating an oddly soothing backdrop. When you reached the bottom floor, you wandered toward the living room window, curious about the storm. The sight outside surprised you; the sky was a swirling, tumultuous grey, like a Renaissance painting where the artist had chosen to convey the world's sadness through heavy, brooding clouds.

"Still afraid?" Joel’s voice came from somewhere behind you, and you jumped slightly. He had a way of sneaking up on you like that.

“No,” you shot back, spinning to face him, but the lie must have been obvious. He was standing just a bit too close, his smirk playful as he stepped back, but only by a few inches, leaving barely enough space to breathe.

“You sure?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Joel, sure,” you replied firmly, trying to hold onto your composure. But almost on cue, a loud crack of thunder split the air, and you flinched despite yourself, taking a small step back.

Joel's lips curled into a bemused smile, his eyes dancing with amusement that he was barely disguising with a frown. “Good Lord,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, get away from the window.”

You didn’t argue, following him to the couch, feeling like a child caught out. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you settled next to him, your arm brushing against his. Joel didn’t seem to mind. He sprawled out on the couch, grabbing the remote with an easy familiarity, and you took a seat beside him, closer than you probably should have been.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked, your voice bright with anticipation as you tilted your head, studying his profile.

He glanced at the TV screen, then turned toward you, and the sudden intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through you. It was like being seen, really seen, for a moment too long. He gestured toward the screen, where a reality show played, two women shouting and sobbing in a flurry of drama.

“Anything but this,” he muttered, a wrinkle of distaste crinkling his brow.

You reached over, and he let the remote pass into your hands, your fingers brushing briefly against his. You tried to ignore the way the touch made your pulse skip. As you navigated through streaming options, Joel watched you, his focus almost palpable.

When you reached your recently watched shows, Joel let out an exaggerated sigh. “Season twenty of Grey’s Anatomy?”

“Yes, why?” you replied with a smirk, arching an eyebrow.

He didn’t dignify the question with a response, instead pointing to a different movie thumbnail. “That one. Christine.”

You navigated to the film without protest, pressing play. The opening scenes filled the room with the familiar, grainy colors of ‘80s cinema. You’d always loved movies from that era—the way they captured the world with their hazy, saturated palettes, the oversized jackets, the neon lights. It all felt like a time capsule, a window into a different kind of life.

On screen, Arnie strutted around in his red jacket, exuding a cocky confidence.

“Look at that, what a beauty,” Joel mused, leaning a little closer to you. His voice had a warmth to it, a hint of something wistful. “I always wanted a Plymouth Fury, red and everything.”

“Everything? Possession included?” you quipped, looking up at him, catching his eye in the dim light. He shot you a side glance, his expression mildly irritated but also amused.

“Pay attention,” he replied, frowning.

You bit back a grin, turning your focus back to the screen. But you couldn’t help the small huff of frustration that escaped when the car’s dark influence on Arnie became more apparent.

Joel caught the sound, leaning toward you, his voice dropping into a low whisper. “What’s wrong?”

“That damn car,” you muttered, the edge in your voice belying your irritation.

“It’s just a movie,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You know that, right?”

“Oh, no shit, Joel. A movie?" You shot him a mock-serious look, and his mouth twitched, barely holding back a smile.

“Okay, smartass.”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, surprising you both. Without thinking, you let your head rest on his shoulder, curling your legs up beneath you, and you felt him relax slightly under the weight of it. He didn’t move away; he didn’t make any snide comment. He just let you stay like that, the warmth of his body a quiet reassurance.

“Let me know if you’re hungry,” he said after a while, his voice breaking the silence.

“Why, are you going to cook for me?” you teased, your cheek pressing a little more firmly against his shoulder.

“If you behave,” he shot back, the words carrying a playful edge that sent a shiver through you. You looked up at him, letting your gaze drift to his lips for just a second too long.

“So scary,” you muttered, shifting against him. “Is Joel Miller a good cook?”

“I’ve received no complaints,” he replied, his eyes dropping to meet yours. He was so close that the air seemed to thin between you, and something tightened in your chest.

“I have a discerning palate."

“I’ve seen you eat, sweetheart,” he said, a trace of a smirk playing on his lips. “I can handle you.”

The words hit differently, slipping through your defenses, and without thinking, you let a thought slip out as if it were nothing more than a whisper. “I know you can.”

Joel’s expression shifted, a shadow of something passing over his features. He took in the shift in your tone, the undercurrent of something you hadn’t meant to reveal. “Can I ask you a question?” you asked, suddenly emboldened by the intimacy of the moment.

“You know you can."

“Why did you agree to come to Canmore?”

He fell silent, staring at the screen without seeing it. His mouth tightened, as if he was weighing the words before giving them to you. For a moment, you thought maybe you’d overstepped. But then he spoke. “Have you met your dad?”

“Believe me, I did,” you answered with a dry laugh.

“He was... pretty persistent. I tried to say no, but Sarah disagreed. It was like they had a plan.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who does what he doesn’t want to,” you observed, trying to decipher him.

“Maybe. Most of the time. Not lately,” he said, his voice softer, almost introspective.

A knot formed in your chest. Did he regret being here? Was he just tolerating you? You lifted your head from his shoulder, turning to face him directly. He noticed, his brows knitting together as he took in the change in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, but your voice betrayed you. He shifted closer, studying your face, and the weight of his attention was impossible to ignore.

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, Joel,” you said quietly, the words firmer than you felt. “I mean, today. Or any day.”

“I know,” he replied just as firmly. His gaze held yours, unflinching, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Just so you know,” you pressed on. “You’re not obligated to spend time with me.”

“I know,” he said again, but there was something else there, something you couldn’t quite name. “Are you trying to convince me to leave?”

“No, I’m just... letting you know.”

He exhaled slowly, a faint, wry smile pulling at his lips. “I’m not having a bad time, you know. Even if I have to put up with your sass.”

Relief washed over you, a warmth settling in your chest. You couldn’t help the small smile that slipped out. “You’re not the only one putting up with things, Joel.”

He arched a brow, leaning in even closer, his voice dropping. “Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he murmured, his words carrying a challenge that made your pulse stutter. You could feel the heat between you, an invisible line you were both daring the other to cross.

“I could list a few things,” you started, your voice playful. “Like you spying on me while I sleep.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his expression shifting into something that sent a thrill through you, like you’d just lit a fuse. He leaned in, his thumb brushing against the side of your hip, a touch so light it felt like a promise.

Joel's face hovered close, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimate cocoon in the dim light. His arm settled beside your hip, fingers brushing just enough to send a jolt through your skin. It felt almost like a question—one he wouldn’t voice, but asked with the pressure of his thumb, the careful tilt of his head. You were hyper-aware of everything in that moment: the faint scent of soap clinging to his skin, the underlying musk that was uniquely his, and the way his presence filled the small space between you, almost like a gravitational pull.

“Tell me what you dreamed,” he murmured, the request slipping from his lips in a tone that felt like an order disguised as an invitation. His voice had that low, rough edge, the kind that made you want to answer without question, to let yourself be led by it. You felt the warmth begin in your chest and travel downward, a slow unraveling that left you bare.

Look at you, so reckless, you thought, almost laughing at yourself. But even as you hesitated, you couldn’t resist the idea of letting him in on the dream. Would he react like you imagined? Push back, pull away, or lean in further? A thrill went through you at the uncertainty of it all.

“Well, it was dark,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, but there was a slight tremble you couldn’t control. “I woke up to a noise. I was in my bed, alone, until I felt something move behind me, pressing close.”

He leaned in, just enough to make you feel the shift in his breathing. “How close?” His voice carried a note of urgency, like he needed the answer more than you did.

You swallowed, feeling a flicker of boldness ignite. “Not a millimeter away,” you confessed, watching the way his expression shifted, tightening with curiosity and something else, something deeper. “And then I felt it—a hand, sliding over my waist, fingers pressing in, but gentle, almost hesitant. For a moment, I thought it was just a phantom feeling, but then it moved lower, and I turned over to see—” You faltered, catching the gleam in his eyes. He was listening, but not just with his ears. He was taking in every word, every flicker of emotion on your face, holding you captive in his gaze.

You brushed your fingers over the back of his hand, feeling his warmth seep into you. It made your pulse stutter. “I think you know what I mean, Joel,” you continued, his name slipping from your mouth like a plea. “When I finally felt it—all of it—it was like it was tearing me apart from the inside, a sensation so strong it felt like it would swallow me whole.”

His eyes, dark and intense, never wavered from yours. He swallowed hard, like he was trying to keep himself steady, but you could see the hunger there, wild and unguarded. “Say it,” he urged, his voice rougher now, and it made your skin tingle.

You feigned confusion for a second, savoring the way his impatience crept into the curve of his mouth, the tightness of his jaw. “What?” you asked innocently, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

His lips twitched into a smile, the kind that barely reached his eyes. “Don’t play innocent with me. Say it. Out loud.”

The challenge in his words, the edge of command, did something to you. A rush of need flooded your veins, making your head spin, leaving you breathless with wanting. You could have kept up the pretense a little longer, but he was so close, so maddeningly close, that it was all you could do to keep from leaning in those last few inches to taste the urgency on his lips.

“It was you, Joel,” you confessed, feeling the weight of the admission hitting you, your heart drumming wildly against your ribs. “Touching me, gripping me like I was something you couldn’t bear to let go of. Taking me, like you needed it as much as I did. Of course you you had to heard me, those noises were just for you.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, just stared at you with a raw, naked hunger that made your skin feel too tight. His breath came in rough bursts, and his chest rose and fell like he was struggling to keep control. Then, you saw his gaze drop, his eyes tracing the line of your throat, lingering on the curve of your collarbone, and finally, drifting down further.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand reached out, grazing the front of his pants, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. His reaction was instant—a sharp intake of breath, a tightening of his hand on your hip, as if he might pull you closer or push you away, he hadn’t yet decided. But he didn’t push. He let you touch him, let you feel the evidence of how much he wanted this.

Then Joel’s fingers curled around your wrist, gently halting your touch, as if savoring the moment. His grip was firm, his hand rough against your skin, and when he spoke, there was a crack in his voice that made you pause, just for a second.

“If this happens, there's no turning back, baby,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, but with an edge of vulnerability that you hadn’t heard before. His eyes searched yours, and for a brief moment, a shadow of uncertainty crossed his face.

You swallowed, taking in the weight of what he’d just said, the gravity in his words. But really, that was all you needed. No second thoughts, no hesitations. You leaned in, closing the space between you both, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was urgent, like you’d been holding your breath for hours, and finally, you could exhale. Joel’s taste filled you—something intoxicating and warm—and you let out a low sound, a moan that vibrated through your joined lips.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he studied you with half-lidded eyes. He sank back against the couch, drawing you with him. His hands moved quickly, guiding your legs around his waist until you were straddling his lap, your thighs cradling his hips. You could feel the strength in his arms as he adjusted you, holding you close, anchoring you to him. The contact of his hard chest against your own, the way his body seemed to fit perfectly beneath yours—it set a spark in your blood, a need so intense that you barely recognized your own voice as you gasped against his lips.

“Damn, baby,” Joel breathed, his lips ghosting over yours as he spoke. He dipped his head to kiss along your jaw, his hands cupping your backside, fingers digging into the curve of you. A low, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest when he felt you grind against him, his body responding with a slow, helpless roll of his hips. He broke the kiss, just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he felt your eagerness. You couldn’t help but match it with a smile of your own, though yours was tinged with impatience.

You pressed your mouth to his again, this time with a frantic edge, your hands finding their way into his hair. The heat between you was searing, uncontainable. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking the pressure, the friction. When you felt the length of him pressing through his pants against your core, a desperate sound slipped from you, something raw and needy.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, the words leaving you in a rush as your head tipped back, your lips parted. He felt so good beneath you, so solid, big, and it made your mind spin.

Joel’s gaze was fixed on you, dark and hungry, watching the way your mouth fell open, how you clung to him as if you might lose your balance. His breath hitched, and his jaw clenched as he seemed to wrestle with himself. Then, in a sudden move, he gripped your waist and lifted you off him, setting you down next to him. A whine of frustration bubbled up in your throat, but he was already on his feet, pulling you along with him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up, your legs dangling for just a moment before finding their place around his hips again. You couldn’t keep your lips off him, your mouth chasing his as he maneuvered you toward the stairs, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

Before you knew it, he turned you in his arms, your back pressing into the wooden railing. Your breath came out in a shudder as he kissed you there, fingers digging into the curve of your spine. But then he pivoted again, leading you backwards until you found yourself at the door to his room. He fumbled for the handle, and when it finally gave way, he pushed the door open and guided you inside.

You took a breath, glancing around, taking in the intimate details of his space. It mirrored yours, but different—more organized, less cluttered, though the bed was rumpled, as if he’d just been lying in it, restless.

The thought disappeared when you felt his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you into the heat of his chest. His mouth brushed over the curve of your shoulder, trailing kisses up to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. You tilted your head, giving him more space, your breath catching when his lips grazed your skin. His hands spanned your waist, holding you steady, and you shivered against him, your whole body aching with need.

Turning, you faced him, your hands going straight to the hem of his shirt. You were impatient, trembling, and he must have seen the urgency in your eyes because he didn’t waste time—he pulled off your sweater and t-shirt in one swift movement, leaving your skin bare to the cool air.

For a heartbeat, he just looked at you, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath stutter.

"So pretty, baby."

His fingers traced along your sides, pressing you closer, his mouth finding your neck again. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a delicious ache building low in your stomach.

You tugged at his shirt again, desperate for the feel of his skin against yours. He shrugged it off, letting it fall somewhere on the floor, forgotten. His body was warm and solid beneath your touch, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped when he pressed himself to you, the heat of him seeping into your bones.

The edge of the bed met the back of your thighs, and Joel took advantage of your stumble, guiding you down onto the mattress. He hovered over you, his breath mingling with yours, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—this delicate push and pull of control he was struggling to keep. But then, with a small, desperate sound, he surrendered, his mouth crashing into yours.

His kiss was hungry, consuming, like he’d been starving for you, and it left you dizzy. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you up against him, and you arched into his touch, a helpless little sound escaping your lips as he took control.

His lips moved lower, kissing down your neck, over the curve of your breast, until finally, his mouth closed around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a bolt of electricity through you, and you cried out, your hands twisting into his hair, pulling him closer, as if that would ease the ache growing inside you.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like the only thing you could manage.

He paused, lifting his gaze to yours, his lips swollen and wet, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulled back.

“What, baby?” he teased, the words catching in his breath, his eyes dark with want. “You have to tell me what you need.”

Your cheeks flushed under his scrutiny, but you managed to meet his gaze, biting down on your lip. “Fuck me,” you whispered, the words a raw plea, your hands trailing over his shoulders, urging him closer.

He kissed you again, slower this time, but with a lingering desperation that made your head spin, his body pressing yours into the mattress.

As Joel pulled away, a cold emptiness settled over your body, making you lean up on your elbows, your head following his movement as he stood before you. His hands moved with urgency, tugging down his gray pants. And just like that, the fabric pooled at his feet, revealing skin. You blinked, your breath hitching. Of course, Joel wasn't wearing underwear.

A sigh tumbled from your lips, heavy with desire as your eyes drank in the sight of him. He stood exposed, unabashed, and hard. His hand wrapped around his hard, thick dick almost instinctively, and you caught the smallest flinch in his expression. It was intoxicating.

“I knew it,” you breathed, tossing your head back, a smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth. Joel's eyebrow arched, and he took a step closer, a playful smile spreading across his face as if you’d just confirmed something you’d been dying to know.

You moved quickly, rising onto your knees on the mattress, aligning your face with his. Your arms found their place around his neck, tugging him down, your lips pressing against his with a desperate heat. The friction between you both was electric, his body pressed to yours, and you could feel him—solid and pulsing, rubbing against your stomach, warm and slick where he brushed.

Joel’s hands settled firmly on your hips, rough palms sliding lower until they cupped your ass, kneading the flesh with a force that pulled a moan from deep inside you. It vibrated between you, swallowed by his mouth, the sound mingling with the low groan rumbling in his chest. Your hands roamed downward, feeling every plane and muscle of his chest, before slipping further until your fingers wrapped around the base of his hardness.

“You’re so hard, Joel,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes stayed locked on his as you spoke. “You need this so badly, don’t you?”

He drew a sharp breath at your touch, his hands tightening on your hips, bruising almost. A flash of something wild crossed his expression, and he shook his head, lips quirking as he exhaled a chuckle that held no humor. “Witch,” he accused softly, the word a caress against your lips.

With a sly smile, you brushed a kiss over his mouth, barely a whisper of touch, before you let your hand work up and down his length, slow and deliberate. His eyelids fluttered at the sensation, lips parting as he tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat to your view.

God, the way he looked in that moment—lost and completely yours—made something tighten in your chest. A shuddered breath escaped his lips, breaking into a groan that seemed to take all the air from the room.

He felt it, the pull between you both. That magnetic force that had been there since the first time you saw him sitting on your parents couch, unreadable and infuriating. Now, here he was, completely undone by you, eyes dark with need, his hands leaving marks on your skin as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you tethered. But you wanted more than that—you wanted to give him more, to show him how good you could make him feel.

You shifted back on the bed, your legs folding beneath you, bringing your mouth level with him. With a teasing pause, you took him in hand again, guiding him towards your lips without quite touching. Joel’s breath stuttered, and his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could see your eyes.

“Show me how much I fucking need this, now,” he blurted out, his thick voice piercing your bones, as he pulled you closer to the tip of his dick.

You gave in, tongue slipping out to taste him, the salt and heat of him filling your senses. He groaned, his hips jerking forward, but you held firm, only letting him in bit by bit. When you finally took him into your mouth, the stretch was just enough to feel like a challenge, a thrill. He let out a low, shaky exhale, but you didn’t stop. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, moving with a rhythm that made his fingers tighten in your hair.

You were drooling, saliva dripping down your chin as you picked up speed, Joel ramming into your throat almost causing you to gag.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he whispered.

You didn't care, you wanted to eat him whole. And the sound that echoed through the four walls was obscene, wet, worthy of taking you to hell. And you loved it, loved it too much.

Joel was soaked in your saliva, it dripped from his cock every time your mouth approached his tip. So you grabbed him with one hand, jerking him off as you moved your lips to his balls, giving them a little kiss before taking them into your mouth and licking them with need.

But just as you leaned in to take him deeper again, Joel's hand found your hair, pulling you back with a gasp. He stared down at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and awe, chest heaving.

“You’re going to kill me,” he managed, his lips twisting into a rough smile, as if the idea didn’t bother him much.

You only answered with a mischievous look, taking him back into your mouth, this time letting him see everything, your eyes fixed on his as your lips wrapped around him. His hands tightened in your hair, his face twisted with the need to control himself.

“Fuck” he muttered, voice breaking. But then he yanked you back again, breathing heavily. “On your back.”

You obeyed, shifting onto the bed, your body singing with anticipation as he settled between your legs. Joel’s hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide, and he lowered himself until he was almost flush against you. You trembled beneath his gaze, feeling exposed in every sense, but there was something intoxicating in being seen by him like this, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

His fingers traced a slow, teasing line down your stomach, dipping between your legs. When he found your clit, a slow circle of his thumb sent a shock through you, making you arch into him. The look he gave you was dark and satisfied, as if he’d uncovered some secret you’d been hiding.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate,” he murmured, watching your expression change, drinking in the way you gasped and arched for him. “Is that what you’ve been dreaming about? Me, fucking you?”

“Yes, Joel,” you answered, the words slipping out before you could think. “Please, fuck me.”

He just smiled, shaking his head. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and unhurried, even as his thumb sped up its torture, drawing moans from you that you couldn’t keep back. His eyes bore into yours, unyielding. “You need to beg better than that.”

He had known exactly how much power he held, savoring it until the very last moment, until his own desire got the better of him. Without a word, he lowered his mouth onto you, sealing it around your most sensitive spot, his tongue moving in waves, patient but relentless.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a cry, your fingers twisting into his hair, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught.

Joel sucked at you with a gentleness that felt like a contradiction, each flick of his tongue pulling you closer to some edge you couldn’t quite see. The rhythm he set was almost maddeningly precise, a tempo that left you no choice but to arch your hips into him, chasing the pleasure that seemed to spill from his mouth in every movement. Your breath stuttered as he released you for a moment, his tongue sweeping lower, dragging over you slowly before dipping inside, finding that place where you needed him most.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, and the way his voice cut through the haze made you shudder. He sounded almost amused, but there was a hunger there too. “Bet feeling me in your throat got you like this, didn’t it? All swollen and ready.”

“Joel, please,” was all you managed to say, the desperation curling up in your voice like a plea. It felt raw, something you didn’t want to give him but couldn’t keep back.

He didn’t make you wait—his mouth was on you again, as if he’d been starved for you. He kissed and sucked at you like it was the only way to survive, his mouth devouring, each motion of his tongue sending pulses of sensation through every inch of your body. You could feel the texture of the sheets beneath you, the cool air on your skin where his lips weren’t, but all of it blurred together under the hot, unrelenting focus of his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying to find some control, but it was impossible. It was too much, and you let yourself go, surrendering to the flood of sensation.

You tried to warn him, but the words dissolved into a high-pitched cry, and he felt it in the way your body arched beneath him, trembling with the intensity that rolled through you. His rhythm never wavered, the friction of his mouth pushing you deeper into that overwhelming feeling. When it became too much, you pulled your hips back with what little strength you had left, and the sound of him coming off you was slick, leaving your skin sensitive and flushed.

Your clit throbbed, swollen and pink, still tingling with the aftershocks of his attention. And just as you tried to catch your breath, he shifted you onto your side with his steady hands, his chest pressing against your back. The warmth of him behind you was dizzying, the closeness both comforting and unbearable. It wasn’t enough—you wanted him closer, to sink into him completely, to forget where you ended and he began.

Your mind spun as he kissed the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your ear.

“I was behind you, wasn’t I?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost like a secret between the two of you.

A smile tugged at your lips, the meaning sinking in, the memory of your dream making your pulse race again. Before you could respond, his hand found your waist, his fingers kneading into your skin. He remembered without you needing to say a word.

You guided his hand down, trailing over the curve of your stomach until he reached the sensitive spot between your legs, still pulsing from his earlier attention. You shifted back against him, feeling his hardness against your ass, a reminder of how much more he wanted.

“Kiss my neck,” you whispered, and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth found the spot that made your breath catch, and your skin prickled under the heat of his lips. You shivered as you guided his hand lower, until his fingers pressed against you, finding that aching place with an agonizing slowness. The sensation made you moan, a sound you couldn’t hold back.

He took over then, his fingers slipping inside you, and you moved with him, setting the rhythm until he matched it. His lips grazed your earlobe, his teeth scraping lightly as he added another finger, stretching you, pushing deeper. The motion was intimate, almost unbearably so, his breath fanning against your skin, his voice a rough murmur against your ear.

“And then,” you started, your voice unsteady, barely holding on to the thread of your thoughts. “Then—fuck me Joel, please.”

His fingers slipped out of you, and his hand landed on your bottom with a firm smack, the sound cracking through the air and making you yelp softly.

“Be a good girl and spread those legs for me,” he ordered, voice thick, his fingers pressing into your thigh as he guided your leg back, opening you up to him.

The anticipation twisted inside you, tightening like a spring, and you pushed back against him, turning your head to meet his eyes. They were so close, so dark with desire, and when he finally pushed inside you, the stretch of him was enough to leave you breathless.

You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as your body adjusted to the feel of him, to the way he filled you completely. He didn’t move, letting you take in the heat and pressure of his body, the fullness that made your head spin. And then his hand found your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse before he squeezed, just enough to make your breath hitch.

He turned your head with a gentle but insistent grip, catching your mouth in a bruising kiss. “So tight, so wet, just for me,” he rasped, his voice trembling against your lips.

“Just for you, Joel,” you managed to reply, your voice cracking into a sob.

And then he started to move, his hips finding a steady, unyielding rhythm. Each thrust seemed to reach deeper, leaving you wrecked, clinging to the sound of his breath in your ear and the way his body collided with yours. You could have listened to those ragged, desperate sounds he made forever, each one making you feel like you had him in your hands even as you surrendered everything.

“You're close,” he said in your ear, his words barely a broken whisper. He could feel it inside of your throbbing cunt. “Come for me, baby, I want to feel you break over me, is that what you need?”

“Y—yes, Joel, fuck.”

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

His firm voice in your ear was enough for the explosion to invade your body, making you open your mouth in a silent scream and tighten around him, squeezing him devastatingly tight.

“Oh God,” Joel moaned in agony, his hard movements becoming unsynchronized. His mouth caught your sweaty neck in desperation, digging his teeth into you hungrily as his hand, still on your neck, held you immobile beneath his lips.

A primal sound came from him, making you moan again. His body tensed and his quivering lips released your flesh.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, baby,” he cried, cumming inside you.

Deep inside you, his warm seed spurted out as he lay still, unmoving as his discharge filled you.

His hand released you, leaving a soft pink mark on your skin, and you pulled back seeking his lips, which captured yours in less than a second.

His hand gave you a gentle spank, and a smile from you broke the kiss.

As you looked into his eyes, still dark, his words echoed in your mind.

No, there was no turning back now.

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou joel #capuccinodoll #joel x reader #pedro pascal joel #joel the last of us #pedro joel #joel tlou #dbf!joel x fem!reader #joel x you

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maniacwatchestheworld · 10 months ago

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Another DPxDC story idea/prompt sorta thing (#3)

I don't know that all you all DPxDC peeps fully realize what you've done with deciding to make ectoplasm basically the same material what's in Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pits... Because basically, what you've all done is turn the Lazarus waters from a resource that is INCREDIBLY rare and limited, that a singular man controls and keeps a secret from the rest of the world, and made it accessible to anyone with the gumption and ability to attack and hunt ghosts. In other words... You've all made a CURE for ANY and ALL terminal conditions readily accessable via harassing any ghost and have therefore given everyone a very justifiable motivation to hunt ghosts and juice them for as much ectoplasm as possible!

Let me say it again. Lazarus Water is a cure for ANY terminal issue! Terminal brain cancer? Cured! Got shot and are bleeding out? Cured! Did a backflip off of a cliff and landed on your neck? There's no cure for stupid, but that whole dying thing can be CURED! And only at the cost of temporary insanity! (Or sanity if you were already insane. :p ) As long as you are about to die or were brought in just after dying, you can be cured of whatever would have killed you!

Of course Ra's would want to control this resource as much as possible once these properties are discovered, as I've discussed before. But after Ra's has been dealt with... Wouldn't it be quite callous and cruel to keep this a secret...? If you harvested a bit of ectoplasm from some ghosts... No child would ever have to die of a terminal illness ever again... Babies born in precarious situations could be healed with very little risk. Loving parents would never have to worry about dying and leaving their children behind with no one to care for them... Certainly Batman could not allow such injustices to continue when there could be such an easily replicable cure!

So here's a thought... After Ra's Great Ghost Juicening (tm), Jack and Maddie start an ethical ghost catch and release program. They capture invasive ghosts that are living in the human realm, capture, and release them back into the Ghost Zone, but before releasing them back into the ghost zone, they are given a health check-up, and are given the option of donating ectoplasm for terminally ill humans! (It would basically be the ghost equivalent of donating blood.) Maddie and Jack are more than happy to give the ghosts passing through fair compensation, of course! But since money largely doesn't mean anything to ghosts, it would have to come in the form of like... Objects they like or tasks that they want done for them. So Jack and Maddie might give the Box Ghost a palette of unbuilt boxes! Or they might give Technus whatever old technology is sitting around the house that isn't being used! Danny can be rewarded for donating with his favorite meal. If Vlad is behaving and donating, they can reward him with kisses.

#dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #good parents jack and maddie

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year ago

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mr and mrs parker

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.7K

warnings: none. clean as a whistle

summary: fury has assigned you and peter on an undercover mission. as a married couple. and the two of you haven’t even been on a first date yet. used prompts 3 and 7 from oblivious pining from @mangocherri

A/N: peter and reader are aged up to 21, but there’s nothing explicit happening.

masterlist / peter parker

“the both of you are going undercover at the event as a married couple. need these bugs to be planted where you deem fit. keep tabs on anyone suspicious, and stay lively and sober. be the happy couple.” fury left the tiny bugging devices and exited the room without further words.

you and peter stayed quiet while both of you sat at the giant conference table. two manilla envelopes were sitting in front of each of you with information on the targets and the object of the mission. along with the cover story, the both of you being the happy mr and mrs parker couple.

now there was a slight problem with the cover story, you were a married couple. not even a regular couple, just two friends/coworkers who have crushes on each other but are too chicken to do anything about it.

“ever been to an event like this?” peter asked. the first one to break the growing silence in the room.

you bent the corner of the folder, “uh, yeah. but only twice and both were in the shadow missions. being dressed as a waiter, passing through the crowd unnoticed. now i’m gonna be dressed nice and done up, eyes watching. still never used to that feeling.” hand leaving the card stock and falling into your lap. “you?” already knowing the answer.

he shook his head, “not my thing. usually, it’s spider-man coming in to save the day.”

“well,” you stood from your seat, “for the day we can pretend to be fancy people and a lovely couple.” hoping you didn’t show too much excitement for the last part.

“best day ever.” peter replied as he grabbed his papers, a nice red ghosting on his cheeks.

“excited?” natasha walked into your room and sat on the foot of your made bed.

you were sitting at your desk which was your temporary vanity for the time getting ready. tubes and powers, palettes and brushes were scattered over the surface, a task for future you to clean up. hair painstakingly styled from your usual combat sleek look, your arms getting their workout for the day.

you sighed at natasha’s question, “i feel sick,” grumbled as you looked for your blush. natasha just laughed at the comment, “that’s the butterflies, honey. your nervous cause of your partner. i’m sorry, husband.” she practically sang the word.

you dropped your voice, “no, it's not cause of peter. i’m just not used to being in an eye-catching position.” touching up your eye makeup for distraction.

“uh huh.” she didn’t sound convinced, “well, i’m sure my memory doesn’t fail me cause i swear, there was this girl a few months ago who came to me frantic about this crush she had on a bug superhero. but i guess i’m old since i’m in my late thirties.”

you dropped any brushes or makeup from your hand back to the table. a defeated sigh racking from your chest, “okay, yes, fine. it’s mostly cause of peter and how we’re probably gonna hold hands and maybe need to kiss or something. but there is a small part cause of the mission, that’s one hundred percent true.”

natasha stood from your bed and walked behind you, hands squeezing your shoulders, “you’re gonna do great, honey. you’re one of the youngest SHIELD agents, you know what you’re doing. and peter’s been getting better at undercover, there’s nothing to worry about. a simple bug and mingle.”

the two of you locked eyes in your mirror. natasha felt like an older sister hyping you up for your high school dance with a boy you liked, but in reality, it was an agent-to-agent pep talk for an undercover op with a web-crawling hero. tomato potato.

a gentle knock at the door stole the attention. you yelled for them to enter and peter poked his head around the gap, he sent a sheepish smile in greeting, and it made those flutters reappear.

“hi, sorry. don’t mean to bother-“ “your not a bother.” quickly interrupting peter. you ignore the look natasha sent you.

peter chuckled lightly, “thanks. uh, i was wondering if either of you could help with my bow tie? i can’t find anyone else in the tower and i wasn’t taught….” he trailed off while playing with the black fabric.

natasha patted your shoulders before moving away, “y/n can help. so i’m gonna head out and the two of you enjoy your date- sorry, mission.” leaving the both of you warm in the face and also giving peter a pat on his back before closing your door behind her. and then it was two.

you stood from your chair and made your way to peter. “sorry about her. loves messing with people.” rolling your lips and eyes shying away from peter’s pretty brown ones. again a light chuckle from him, “it’s- it’s fine. kinda used to that from my aunt.”

you nodded, “ready for tonight?” bouncing on the balls of your feet. you were still dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, planning to slip into your dress in a few minutes.

peter played with his bow tie, “physically just about. mentally… need a few more minutes to be thrown into the lion's den.” now you laughed as you plucked the fabric from him and stepped closer, “it’s not so much a lion's den, more like a… a monkey den.”

you popped peter’s stiff collar and slipped the fabric behind his neck, end pieces adjusted evenly. “what makes it a monkey’s den?” peter tilted his head back a little, chin almost hitting your forehead.

you spoke into his chest, fingers bending and twisting. “their all dressed in their monkey suits and throwing bullshit at each other. all they need is a couple of hung tires and boom, monkey den ala rich assholes.” pulling the finished bow tight.

you took a step back to admire your handiwork. peter dropped his head and his darting brown eyes made you part your lips subconsciously. peter swiped his hands down his pressed white button-up, “how- how do i look? like i’ll fight in?”

you let your eyes drift down his chest, the shirt loose enough that it wouldn’t strain when he moved his arms. the end of the shirt tucked into his black dress pants that were without a wrinkle and stopped just at his ankle. but when you went from toe to head, you only saw a boyish face with little bits of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. how he smiled awkwardly, teeth flashing white, his eyes nervous and almost blinking too many times.

“you won’t fit in.” saying the statement gently. peter deflated a bit, a crinkle in the middle of his brows. you gained that previous step back, right hand hesitantly falling over peter’s heart.

“but it’s best you don’t look like them. want you to stand out as your own.” boldly gazing into his eyes, letting your words melt into his brain for a moment before walking away. “now, uh, if you could just stay here so you could help with my dress that’d be great.”

“yeah! ye-yeah, can- can do that.” and you heard the heels of his sleek leather shoes click on your floor.

you grabbed the all-black gown from your closet and led into your connected bathroom. stripping off your casual comfy clothes, you held the dress to the floor and stepped in from the top to save your hair and makeup from friction. thick black straps sit on your shoulders and with a hand over your chest, you slide the door to shuffle back to the open space.

peter had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was leaning into your desk area, eyes taking in all the photos decorating your dirty mirror. he had a soft smile on his thin lips.

“a little help, spider boy.” sneaking up on him and not withholding the little giggle at seeing him startle in surprise. “thought you had a tingle for danger.”

“it’s called spider sense and you're not a danger, at least not to me.” you hummed as you turned your back to peter. you peeked a glance over your shoulder to see peter standing pretty close to your back, closer than would be normal to zip up a dress. he pulled both sides of the fabric tight then held them with one hand at the top of your back while his dominant hand tugged up the zipper slowly. you sucked in the sigh that wanted to escape at the feeling of peter’s touch and warmth, you kept your head forward and eyes focused on your messy bed.

peter stopped and you thought he was done but then his wrist skimmed across your neck and you couldn’t help the audible gasp. “sorry, didn’t want your hair getting caught.” his voice was low. “it’s okay.” almost breathless. “it’s- it’s beautiful. your hair and- and makeup. just not used to seeing you dressed up.”

a quick laugh, “yeah, definitely out of my comfort zone. but it’s- it’s not too bad. at least you're in the same boat, i’m- i’m guessing.” chiding yourself for the assumption, but peter quickly quelled the nerves, “definitely out of my zone. there, all done.”

turning to face peter you did the same actions as him earlier, looking down at your attire and smoothing your hands over invisible wrinkles. “not too much? not trying to draw attention.”

you waited to hear an answer but it never came. you looked away from the dress to see peter with wide eyes and a tight mouth. you stepped closer and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and exposed forehead, “you okay?”

he mindlessly nodded, and you stepped away to look for your tiny heels. but stopped in your search at the crack of peter’s voice and the heart-racing words that left his mouth.

“what?” your own eyes blown large. peter scratched a hand on the back of his hair before shoving it into his pockets. he cleared his throat and looked directly at you while repeating, “you- you look beautiful. hard to not draw attention.” he cleared his throat again.

“uh, th- thanks, peter.”

“yeah… well i’m- im gonna wait outside. see- see you in a few minutes.” and he left before you could protest his absence.

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