#the effortless genius of it all

[mariasont]

Dress Code - S.R

a/n: got a little carried away with this one, but ugh just imagining spencer reid coming to my defense has me down BAD

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer reid doesn't appreciate an agent questioning the length of your skirt

warnings: fluff, a rando flirting/being rude with the reader, mini skirts 4 life, definitely not appropriate for work but spencer doesn't give a FUCK

wc: 1.5k

"Interesting choice of attire for the FBI," the man's voice commented as you paused in the midst of penciling in his meeting with Chief Cruz. "Isn't that skirt a bit... short?"

The man was tall, though not quite as tall as Dr. Reid. His hair, a dark shade that caught the light as he moved (more so because of the liberal amount of gel in it), was neatly trimmed, but it lacked the effortless charm of Spencer's curls.

You had unwittingly set a standard, with Dr. Reid as the benchmark. You tried to go on dates, to distract yourself from the boy genius, but those dates turned into a mental tally--he's not as smart as Spencer, not as kind, not as attractive. 

Maintaining an unshakeable smile, you stood up from your work area. "You think? I just love how it twirls when I spin!"

You demonstrated--the pleated hem of your pink tweed skirt billowing out around you. You wobbled on your heels, a giggle escaping you as you used the desk to steady yourself. Spencer's gaze followed your every move as you tucked a couple stray curls behind your ears.

Spencer intended to maintain a respectful distance, to grant you some space, but he found himself consistently drawn towards you, as if pulled by gravity itself. You were irresistibly captivating, and it wasn't lost on him that this allure undoubtedly affected others just as much.  

His gaze sharpened into a glare, almost tangible in its intensity, directed at the man who hovered too close in your personal space, eyes trailing where they shouldn't as the fabric of your skirt fluttered with your movements.

The agent let out a soft laugh, inching forward to prop his elbows on the desk's edge, his eyes subtly scanning your legs. "I'd wager it becomes quite the tactical distraction during interrogations."

"Oh, I don't go into the interrogation rooms, silly!" you laugh, a melodic ripple in the air, as you ease back down into your chair. 

You cross your legs, one over the other, the action accentuating the graceful lines of your figure, skirt settling into place with a soft rustle. 

The man's smirk broadened, his eyebrow lifting in a choreographed motion. "You don't say?"

Your smile is radiant, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm in his voice. You tilt your head, a soft gesture as you rearrange a vase brimming with colorful flowers on your desk--a thank-you from Garcia for the cupcakes you gifted her with last week.

"Yep! I'm the first face people see here, and I want to make sure it's a good one!"

He nodded slowly, a sly grin spreading across his features. "The first face, huh? I suppose with a view like that, it's hard for anyone to get past the front desk. But isn't it a bit distracting for the agents?"

"I believe it's all about focus. And our team has an exceptional ability to focus, no matter the environment."

It was a welcome surprise to watch Dr. Reid make his way toward you, his walk a familiar lanky stride that somehow managed to be both awkward and graceful. You like his tie today, still crooked, but charming, and it was decorated with blue stripes that trailed up the side. Despite the sharp lines of his suit, there was something so undeniably soft about him. 

"Dr. Reid, I..."

Spencer didn't let him finish his thought. "And speaking of work, I believe Chief Cruz is waiting on you for those files. Best not to make him wait."

You weren't speaking of work, but the agent was quick to excuse himself, nonetheless.

"He seems nice, doesn't he?"

Spencer's lips twitched, on the verge of breaking your idealistic bubble, but he stopped short, arrested by the sincerity shining in your eyes. The idea of spoiling your untainted perspective felt almost sacrilegious, not when your smile was so genuinely sugary it nearly could've brought him to his knees right then and there. 

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes trailing over your complacent face. "Nice."

You looked down at your skirt, plucking at a thread that had come undone. "You don't think it's too short, do you?"

You stood, ensuring he had a complete view, your palms delicately pressing the fabric down. Spencer's eyes opened a shade wider, the unexpected display catching him off guard. The skirt's length--or lack thereof--left little to the imagination, your thighs on full display, but he'd keep that thought to himself, and with any influence he had, everyone else would as well. 

"No, it's fine, you look lovely."

"Lovely?" your eyes basically shimmered in this light, your chin gently resting in the curve of your palm as you fixed him with an intent stare. "That's high praise."

"Deservedly so."

"Dr. Reid, I'm blushing."

And you were, pink radiating across your neck and cheeks, but he was sure a similar rosy shade was coloring the tips of his ears.

You rose from your chair, circling the desk to position yourself directly in front of him, close enough for him to detect the light scent of Dubble Bubble on your breath. He, almost instinctively, found himself leaning in your direction. 

"I just love how it feels," you noted, hand brushing against the cloth. "It's so soft, see?"

You extended the hem of your skirt towards him. Spencer's hand hesitated, then tentatively touched the fabric, clearing his throat in the process. He was even closer now, the scent of your perfume--what he thought was a mix of roses and a hint of citrus--engulfed him. The skirt was soft like you had said, but it was the warmth radiating from your skin that sent a jolt through him. 

His knuckles grazed against your thigh, whether intentional or not he really wasn't sure. His usual clarity wasn't up to par, not with you standing so close, looking so nice. The world seemed to spin when he was around you.

You let out a giggle, a soft and effervescent sound that seemed to steal the air from his lungs. "Do you see what I mean? It's like wearing a cloud."

His hand snapped back as if touched by fire, his face awash with a flustered glow. "Yes, it's...very soft," he managed, raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze darting to any point but your legs, the memory of its softness scattering his concentration.

You offered a beaming smile, naively unaware to the sheer havoc you wreaked on his senses. He needed to get back to work to prevent any rash decisions--like taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours right there, an act that would certainly mar his professional record. He also wasn't sure you'd appreciate that. 

As though you had plucked the thoughts straight from his mind, your fingertips brushed softly over his chest. "Goodness, I've been rambling on, haven't I? You probably have, like, super important stuff to do."

Your touch seemed to still the air between you, Spencer's breath hitching, momentarily losing his train of thought. "Oh, uh... well, no, it's actually kind of a slow day for me right now."

Your hand, moving from his chest to rest on his arm, offered a tender squeeze. "Oh, that's good, isn't it? You guys are always super busy, it's about time the universe gave you a break, huh?"

Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply, you bit your lip, cheeks flushed with a sudden realization. "Oh no, I totally just jinxed it, didn't I?"

You quickly rapped your knuckles against the desk. 

Spencer cocked his head to the side, a bemused chuckle escaping him. "What?"

Your words bubbled over with delight, closing the gap between you and Spencer until you were almost chest to chest. "Look at this, I'm the one who is teaching you something for once!" Your smile was wide and uncontainable. "So, knocking on wood--it's supposed to ward off bad luck or reverse a jinx, just like I might have done."

A myriad of scientific retorts teetered on the tip of his tongue, each one ready to debunk the notion of luck and its superstitious rituals. But those thoughts dissolved in the glow of your smile, as radiant and illuminating as an 1800-watt lightbulb. 

"Really? That's fascinating," he mused, his smile soft. "I'll have to remember that."

"Right? Oh, and don't get me started on finding a four-leaf clover. I swear it's lucky. I found one once, and I had the best day ever."

To him, it seemed like you didn't have anything other than good days, despite the statistical improbability. 

"I don't doubt it," Spencer replied with a knowing smile. Noticing the same agent coming out of the hallway, he excused himself. "Well, I'm going to get back. I'll, uh, see you later?"

"You know where to find me," you said.

As you spun to retreat to your desk, he offered a last, discreet glance at your skirt, more specifically the shape of your ass in it, before following after the agent.

"Walk with me, yeah?" Spencer suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was out of character for him, but the way his jaw tightened suggested he didn't care. Once the distance granted privacy from your ears, he stated plainly. "Her attire is not up for discussion. If there's a concern, I'm the one you talk to."

The remainder of his day passed just as slow, and in the back of his mind, he entertained the thought that he had your knock-on wood to thank for that.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[mandukkul]

LOVE BETWEEN TWO — n.rk

synopsis: you and riki have different ways of seeing love but, in the end, you'll always know who you'll end up with.

or

moments building up before the first i love you

tags: childhood friends to lovers, non!idollau, neighbour!riki x f! reader, FLUFF!!!, only fluff and comfort :)

warning: proofread but might have some spelling + grammar errors

wordcount: 4.5k

published: 3rd october, 2024

authors note: this oneshot acts as a thankyou for all the followers and love i get!! i’m so sorry for not being more active :( BUT i completed this! and i just want to say THANK YOU FOR 1000!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WHOLE!!! as much as riki loves you! and as much as we love riki :)

reblogs + comments appreciated

Act 1: loving 

Riki had never understood love – that is, until he met you. He knew he loved many things, like dance, and his family and friends, but if you had asked him if he knew what love meant, he would have buffered like a 2000s-era computer. Of course, Riki knew what love was; he had watched it in K-dramas and had seen it rendered in manga. By their definition, love was hard. Love was hard and difficult and full of miscommunication, but also, love was soft and kind and offered the sweetest touches to one's heart that anyone could ask for.

Love was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

He then concluded, after the piles of pirated manga and dramas he had accumulated over his 17 years of boyhood, that love was simply you. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand that; he knew if it wasn’t you, then no one was going to fit that definition of love for him. Riki didn’t fully understand love, but he understood you – how he felt about you. You, in all your beautiful glory. Love was your touch, your smile, your laugh. Love was what he looked forward to every day.

You were truly the only exception to his dilemma of love, because with you, love came so easily. Love was just like breathing – it was so effortless when it came to you. Love for you felt like rain kissing his cheeks in humid summers, like snow tickling his nose during winter, like an autumn leaf falling on his head in the fall, like cherry blossoms blooming when spring arrived.

Love for you felt like nature, like it was natural. He was sure he had been born to love you, inside and out. From the moment he had met you at the age of 4, when you were dressed in stained patchwork overalls, obviously from playing in the dirt; your hair tied in uneven pigtails because you had just had to tie them yourself. Your hands clasped some wilted old flowers he had passed while walking Bisco; you had offered them to him as a greeting gift with that cute little grin of yours.

“Hello! Want to be my best friend?”

Four-year-old Riki didn’t know it just yet, though he did have an inkling, but he would be head over heels for the girl in front of him for the rest of his life.

He had stared at the flowers in your hand, weak and slouchy in posture. He looked back up at you and didn’t have the heart to tell you that those flowers were the exact ones Bisco had decided to relieve herself on. So, he took those piss-stained flowers and nodded his head with as much agreement as his little body could give.

At the ripe age of 18, as he watched you from across his window, peering into your room, where you haphazardly flopped onto your bed with exhaustion despite only hanging out in his room all day. He could just tell you had screamed into your bed by the way you flailed around at the edge. He watched you suddenly stop, as if you had run out of battery, flip over to your back, and lay still for a while longer.

He loved you.

You could sense him staring at you, with your strangely acquired Riki-sense. You lifted your head to confirm your theory, and there he was, leaning against the window frame staring into your room. His eyes lay still on the object that was yourself, and he was filled with so much adoration, so much love, so much bliss at even the sight of you.

And yet, you scoffed at his blatant staring, feeling his chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul like the Ghost Rider from the movies. Of course, he had that stupid love-stricken look, and of course, he was already waiting for you to stare back.

Love for you had meant many things – too many things to quite pinpoint the right meaning. As you grew up, you learnt more about love than loss, and hence, you learnt that love hurts.

Love was like the humidity in summer, where the air was too thick, and the wind stuck to your skin; love was like the dullness of autumn, where the wind was cold and brisk but not enough to complain about – just enough to be irritable; love was like winter, where it got so cold you couldn’t even feel your face anymore, the season of sickness and disease that forced you to remain indoors and watch the sky cry frozen tears; love was like spring, when hay fever was at its worst, staining your cheeks with unintentional tears and a stuffy nose.

Love was hard. Love was difficult. Love was confusing.

You remembered every single time something you had loved got lost. The very first time was when the friendship bracelet Riki had made you when you were 5, decorated with mismatched charms and trinkets, disappeared one day when you went to the park. The nights you had spent crying didn’t outweigh the nights 5-year-old Riki had spent consoling and reassuring you that he’d make another one – a better one. But 5-year-old you knew the sentiment that was put into that very first bracelet, the one made without obligation to be replaced.

You remembered wailing about how it wouldn’t be the same, that Riki would have the very first bracelet, and you’d have a stupid second version because you had been careless. Then, you remembered the sound of beads crashing onto the ground, scattering anywhere and everywhere. You were scared you’d slip and crash despite being a giant compared to a measly bead.

“Now I’ll make two new ones so we’ll both be the same again.”

You couldn’t recall a more romantic and pleasant memory, where Riki had been so genuine and cute, so willing to give up something that was his to meet your happiness.

Five-year-old Riki really had you wrapped around his finger from that day on.

Despite your own volition, your heart bloomed and blistered, so full of him. It beat to the spelling of his name (in Morse code), and you couldn’t help but pull the threatening smile down into the scowl you attempted to display.

Like clockwork, your eyes locked with the same amount of love and willingness that you gave yourself credit for. You crawled towards your window and lifted it open so you could talk to him again as if the past 12 hours hadn’t occurred.

He was waiting for you, gazing like the stars had blessed his presence – graced his very being with the holiness that was you.

You had to force yourself to calm the oh-so-obvious flush of your cheeks, putting it down to hike up to your room as the reason for your sudden flare-up.

“Aren’t you tired of looking at me all day?” you remarked, and he was so quick with his reply, “I could never get tired of looking at you.”

Him and his flirty personality. You didn’t remember where he had gotten it from, or how he had developed it. You’d grown up with him all your life, and that part of his personality was still an anomaly.

You let a scoff out, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, blatantly ignoring the ache in your cheeks that you refused to surrender to his love.

“It’s not like I’ll disappear if you blink, relax,” but Riki had never been more relaxed than when he was looking at you. Not just the plain stares he gave during his maths classes, or at the dinner table, or even when he stared at his home screen that was so obnoxiously filled with you, but the type that showed interest, that showed he was immersed, devoured, totally consumed by whatever had his attention.

He liked to think he had found the perfect balance of clinginess and distance but still unknowingly leaned towards pulling you in.

“Most girls would love it if I stared at them,” he had said.

He was right. Nearly every girl at school would have sold an arm and a leg just for the boy to even look in their direction. If you weren’t you, you would have cherished and felt blessed to even have the Nishimura Riki in your presence.

But you were you, and you had grown up with this annoying brat all your life. Even if he could be sweet and sensitive at times, or when he tried to show you he was more man than boy, he was still Riki: your first friend, your best friend, and your first love.

Besides, someone had to keep his beautiful ass humbled, or else he would have resorted to those once-targeted alpha male Andrew Tate ads.

“To be honest, I find it a bit creepy,” you had snickered to yourself as he pouted at your response.

Those cute lips of his.

You had always known how to bring his rising ego down, one way or another.

With your smart and witty remarks, you anchored him just enough so he didn’t fly away and drift into the realm of egoism.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fine. I’ll stop looking at you,” he had declared, but his eyes betrayed his words, and his gaze never, not once, pulled away. He had one eye open now, tilting his head away but still, ever so slightly, gazing upon the beauty that you emitted.

And you were still looking. Of course, you were; of course, you would.

You never took your eyes off him because he was just so cute, and his attempt to one-up you in snark was quite endearing.

“Good luck with that,” you had laughed, leaning onto your palm as you watched him sigh in defeat, but not before he caught your own gaze on him.

“Oooh, why are you looking at me like that?” he had prompted, leaning over his window to be closer to you. “Do you think I’m cute?” he wriggled his eyebrows ever so playfully, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“No,” you had deadpanned, dropping your palm down to the frame. He pouted again, more pouty than usual, pulling a frown.

He whined with one of those annoying squeals, something you had grown used to over the years of knowing him. “My girlfriends are so mean to me,” he had said, frowning with his eyebrows pinching and lips pouting. You couldn’t help the small pull of your lips, seeing how comical he was being.

For a split second, you had lingered on his words. “My girlfriend,” he had said with so much pride. “My girlfriend” was all you really heard because he was calling you his girlfriend like it was your name, like it was a prize, a gift, a blessing. “My girlfriend” sounded like honey-laced praises.

He had feigned a gasp at the sight of you trying to hide your smile, and then you had burst into giggles because, of course, you revelled in his misery. But it was okay because the sound of your laughter, that joyous giggle, had erupted because of him, and that was more than enough to subside the little bits of bullying you always seemed to aim at him.

His heart beat along with the rhythm of your laugh.

It was late, and the stars had been watching your tales unfold.

Of a girl whose love yearned and pined, reaching the moon and kissing the ocean. Whose love was kept sacred and scarce, and yet, a love that was sought after, searching for love like hers. One that treasured and was kept safe, a love made of steel but soft like wool. A love that comforted.

And of a boy who loved like no other, so full and so rich. Whose love poured like the rain kissing the ground – endless and fulfilling. A love so abundant, it counted for the world.

There was so much love, too much. It was overbearing, consuming, and it was eating you both alive.

It was overwhelming.

“Hey.”

Your name had left his mouth like honey.

The silence of the gap between your two homes became deafening. Your laugh had slowly died, and your attention had glued onto him alone.

It was now or never.

Riki had known that love was you. He had known that the moment his eyes met yours, his definition had been filled in an instant.

He knew, he had loved – no, he loved you.

His second pause after the call had been enough to erupt a yawn from your lips, ever so slightly slipping past your perfectly shaped lips.

“You should get to bed,” he had said, but the lovesick gaze that you were too tired to catch said everything.

You had fought the urge to ask him what he was really thinking. You were tired, but you knew Riki – your Riki. You knew how his eyebrows pinched a certain way when he contemplated, only further accentuated when he hesitated.

You had his entire face burned into your mind, and your heart.

But for tonight, you had let him and his burning thoughts wait as you slightly nodded.

“I’m not gonna wake you up this time,” you replied, smiling ever so slightly.

You had left your window open, as you always did. Your window to his – it was like you were always together, connected through a fated string that crossed from one pane to the other.

…

Act 2: between 

You had grown to find joy within nothingness—or so you told yourself.

All your life, you had searched for things to put meaning into. Simple commodities that resembled fractions of joy you attempted to keep. As a child, you had never pondered trivial things that would be impossible to find answers to.

You loved the definite, the certain, the things you knew you could hold close to your heart and never let go. Like the grudge you held for the boy who had bullied Riki when he was nine—too fiery of emotions for little you to experience. Your little face had burned red with anger, fists balled and shaking with rage. There had been no stopping nine-year-old you from unleashing divine fury upon the bully. Or like the childhood bracelet Riki made when you were kids, which you had sworn never to remove despite the horrendous combination of charms. A symbol of your eternal friendship.

As you stuffed your locker with yet another textbook you barely cared about, you heard cheers echo against the walls, ricocheting straight into your ears. The stampede of footsteps seemed to hurdle past you, racing toward an unknown presence from across the hall.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who that presence was. Of course you did. You couldn’t ignore it, not when his fiery gaze burned holes into the back of your head.

You subtly looked over your shoulder, and there he was, in his glorious seven-foot-something stature. You saw how all the girls crowding him seemed to be trying to attract his attention, calling for his name, asking him silly, mundane questions. Anything just for a simple glance, but all Riki could do was stare at you like you were a lost treasure he had just discovered.

His gaze alone spoke a thousand words.

"I wish I could hold you."

"Your hand is mine."

"I want you."

"I need you."

"I miss you."

Those were more your feelings than what you thought his gaze said, but you had an inkling he felt the same way.

In the space between you, from metres away across the hall, you couldn’t help but feel so full of him—him and his love. He was saying nothing, yet the whole world went deaf in his presence.

You could see, miraculously through the heart-eyed girls, how he fidgeted with the little torn hem at the bottom of his shirt, remembering how you had been the culprit for that "measly" (his words, not yours) tear.

You watched as he scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to be as polite as a boy could be when rejecting a starry-eyed girl. They gave him chocolate-covered strawberries—though you knew he’d only eat them if they were microwaved despite your protests—and little love letters he would never end up reading, also despite your pitied protests.

All you wanted to do was pull him out of the crowd of crazed girls, to scream that he was yours—despite often telling him that you weren’t an object and shouldn’t be defined as "mine." Maybe it was jealousy that rippled through your blood, burning with a touch of yearning because, of course, you yearned for him. Every second of the day.

You yearned for his touch, his words, his silence.

Despite your many reluctances to say so, you were so deeply infatuated with Riki, you might as well have sprawled it across your forehead. Every distant look, light feathery touch, gentle breath that brushed against the shell of your ear. Everything he did, you clung to like a hoarder. A stupid, love-stricken hoarder. Every thought of yours was consumed by him, captivated by his every essence. Feminists before you would have shaken their heads, disappointed by how much you thought of Riki.

Frankly, you were too smitten with your dear ol’ boyfriend, even if he claimed you didn’t show enough affection to him.

Maybe it was for the best, as your gazes left each other like strangers with a fleeting glance. Similarly to last night, there was an invisible wall separating the two of you, tension threatening to crack under the pressure.

Riki was still being bombarded by love-sick girls, his longing gaze shifting into more of a plea as he watched you with all the free space he was supposed to take up.

You ignored his plea, of course, turning back around and into your locker. You would speak to him later anyway—it’s what he gets for making you late this morning (you had waited for him, as you always did).

…

Act 3: two

The two of you sit in the silence of your room for a change. The curtains of your window that peer into his room are pulled shut, dimming the space enough that you can only tell his expressions if you’re inches away from each other.

Which you are.

Riki insisted on staying over this time, wanting to leave the musk of his room for once. But really, he misses the sight of your walls.

Plastered across from him are pictures of friends and family, some of him and your shared friend group, others of his sisters and you. He thinks to himself how you have a knack for interior design, pleased with the way you showcase your love through photographs.

You say it eternalises the memories, so even when you’re both old and rotten to match your insides, you’ll always have the days of your youth.

And there’s a little flutter in his stomach when he thinks back to this memory because you said “both.” He loves that you see him forever entangled in your life.

Riki watches you doom-scroll on that godforsaken bird app. He likes to believe he’s got all your micro-expressions down—like the slight twitch of irritation in your eyebrow, the lift at the corner of your lip when you see something funny, or the scrunch of your nose when you see a resurfaced video of Nikocado Avocado.

Riki doesn’t spend half as much time on his education as he does staring at you. You’re awfully beautiful in your (his) shirt and dirty sweatpants. You’ve never bothered putting effort into your appearance when you’re in the comfort of your (or his) room, having known him far too long to care if he thinks your shirt smells like perpetual instant ramen.

His eyes travel from your appearance back to your face, and he just loves you. Loves sitting next to you. Loves seeing your face.Loves your appearance. Loves your personality. Loves that you're the opposite of a breath of fresh air—you’re comforted in his old, musty room.

Because even if he and you were stuck back in his room, you’d never change. You’re constant.

He loves the way your voice drops when you sense your tone’s shifted higher when talking to him, saying you’ll never be caught speaking to him with a babied voice. He loves how you deny his obvious affection for you—behind closed doors, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He loves your loudness, your quietness, your happiness, your silence.

He loves you.

He’s going to say it.

As he stares at you, yearning for you, you pretend not to notice the burning gaze of your lover. Twitter lost your attention long ago—the nth tweet about yet another scandal circling the app. Instead, you focus on your breathing. With how wild your heart’s beating, the best you can do is control how you breathe—ensuring you don’t fold in front of the lovely boy cuddled up next to you.

If Riki really knew how much you adored him—his hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, him—you’d never hear the end of it.

In truth, you’re simply enamoured with him. You love him. Everything about him. Years of girlhood wasted on a beautiful and sweet boy. Girlhood never prepares you for how to love a boy so lovely, so perfect. You think about how there have only been a few moments in your life where you’ve felt nothing but bliss.

Childhood was easy; ever since that fateful day where you picked a bunch of piss-covered flowers, you had no worries other than befriending the awkward little boy next door.

You’ll be sure to thank your parents’ boss for the move.

Teenhood, not so much; it’s riddled with an array of angst and anxiety. It’s a surprise you’re not imploding from the assignment you’ve been procrastinating or having a philosophical crisis like “what is love?”. But no, teenhood, albeit filled with plenty of anger and sorrow, has its fair share of wonderful moments.

Like right now, sitting in the comfort of your room—for a change. You’ve spent time imagining how your life would unravel, always with him in it, and how it ended up. The pictures plastered across the room aren’t just for show—they’re evidence that you’re happy.

Blissful.

Without Riki, you wouldn’t know what bliss is. Feeling nothing but pure and utter love.

He’s everything perfect about love.

And of course, you’ve said “I love you” plenty of times—80% of those times were when you were just kids. But that was when you were just friends. A silly phrase, really, because if you ask anyone who’s known you two since you were kids, they’d say you guys got married at the ripe age of seven with grass-bladed rings and flower crowns, with any passing animal as witness to your youthful marriage.

But now you’re dating—the dreaded boyfriend-girlfriend status. Nothing’s really changed in your relationship. Riki remains full of love and charisma, his attitude never wavering because, as he puts it, he’s known you were “the one” since you handed him those dirty flowers. You’ve remained witty and lovely as always, retaining the same spunk you had as a kid. The only two differences (soon to be one) are that your status has changed from friends to dating, and you’ve yet to say those three words, eight letters.

The phone that sits in your loose grip almost slips out, clearly losing its purpose of mindless distraction. To your dismay, Riki catches sight of your fumble, noting that you haven’t scrolled in seven minutes.

“Did my shameless staring finally catch your attention?”

He’s shameless, alright.

You drop your phone, staring deep into his dreamy eyes. You remain silent, but your expression tells him everything.

Despite the pull of your eyebrows and the purse of your lips, you love him.

“Say… what’s one thing you love about me?” he prompts, ready to finally tell you those long-awaited words. He’s thought it all out—how he’d list everything he loves about you, like he’s about to write your biography. He’s been dreaming of this moment since you started dating.

You think thoughtfully, like you’re scrounging your brain for an answer, leaving the silence in the room to deafen him with anticipation.

“Hey! Stop thinking so much!” Riki exclaims, offended that you’ve taken more than three seconds to answer, while his response would take 0.003 milliseconds (at least in his mind).

You let out a playful giggle, something you gave up trying to hide long ago. “I’m kidding,” you say, smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he mocks you in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

You love many things about him, too many to count. You simply love everything about him, like a reflex you can’t control.

“I love it when you’re silent.”

Riki visibly deflates, a slight frown ghosting his plump lips. His eyebrows pinch into a “what the hell” kind of expression, and his nose scrunches cutely at your words.

But you smile knowingly, taking in his sudden silence. You tune into the stillness of the room.

A rapid heartbeat.

“If you hate talking to me, just sa—”

“Because even when you’re quiet,” you interrupt, stretching your hand out to gently caress his hair, “you’re the loudest in the room.”

Your hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek, and Riki—the ever entranced—instinctively leans into your touch.

“Because you can just look at me, and I hear everything I need to hear.”

Your words are soft, gentle, and Riki swallows the lump in his throat that he hadn’t realised had formed. He stares deeply into your eyes—a different kind of stare than before.

Normally tender and kind, full of unspoken words of love. Now, all you see is devotion.

Riki focuses on the silence you’ve created, tuning into the nothingness that you said you loved about him.

And he thinks he can hear it, the silence.

It’s so loud, it bounces off the walls, pounding in his heart—even you can hear it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What do you hear?” He pulls you closer, your lips hovering above his, so close he can feel your breath.

“I hear ‘I love you.’ ”

Your lips mould against his before he can respond, but something tells him that you know. And besides, he has a lifetime's worth of “I love yous”— he’ll let you have this one.

author's note pt.2: its been more than a year since i made this wip and i finally finished it LOLLL it took me so longggg ANDDD i feel like its a bit lackluster in the second act... ENJOY THOUGH. i love the the ending

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

[imreidswifey]

A Thanksgiving Revelation

Summary: After two years of keeping his relationship a secret, Dr. Spencer Reid surprises his BAU family by bringing his stunning and kind-hearted girlfriend, Y/N, to Thanksgiving dinner at Rossi’s house. What starts as shock and curiosity quickly turns into warmth and acceptance as the team gets to know Y/N, marveling at the woman who captured their genius friend’s heart. For Spencer, it’s a night of vulnerability, love, and the merging of two important worlds.

A/n: this was so fun to make. Hope you enjoy. Please make any request that you have. 

Warnings:

Fluff and wholesome content

Mild social awkwardness (classic Spencer Reid moments)

Themes of family and found family dynamics

Light teasing and playful banter

Some mentions of insecurity (Spencer’s concerns about introducing Y/N)

———————————————————————————-

David Rossi’s house was a masterpiece of elegance, adorned with tasteful holiday decor and filled with the tantalizing aroma of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving at Rossi’s had become a BAU tradition, a rare chance for the team to relax and enjoy each other’s company without the looming shadow of their work.

Spencer Reid had arrived early, helping Rossi set up while the others trickled in. As the team chatted and sipped on wine, Spencer casually mentioned he’d be leaving to pick up his “special guest.”

“Special guest?” Emily Prentiss repeated, arching an eyebrow as she expertly poured herself a glass of red wine. “Spence, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I… uh… it’s just someone I thought you’d all like to meet,” Spencer replied, his hands fumbling nervously with the sleeves of his sweater vest.

Garcia practically pounced on him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you bringing a date? A lady friend?”

Spencer’s face turned an impossible shade of crimson. “It’s not a big deal, okay? I’ll just… I’ll be back soon.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving behind a buzz of excitement and speculation.

When Spencer returned, the chatter in the living room came to an abrupt halt. Standing beside him, her hand delicately resting in his, was you. The first thing the team noticed was how undeniably stunning you were. Your features radiated an effortless beauty, and your warm smile lit up the room like the flickering glow of the Thanksgiving candles. You were dressed elegantly but casually, your outfit perfectly complementing your natural charm.

The silence stretched for just a beat too long.

“Uh, everyone, this is Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice a mixture of nerves and pride.

JJ was the first to recover, her jaw slightly agape as she smiled. “Wait… Spencer… this is who you’ve been hiding from us?”

“Hiding is a strong word,” Spencer mumbled, glancing at you apologetically.

“You didn’t even hint you had a girlfriend,” Emily chimed in, her eyes narrowing in mock accusation. “And two years? Are you serious?”

“Two years?” Derek Morgan exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. He glanced between the two of you, his playful smirk firmly in place. “Pretty Boy, you’ve been holding out on us.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Spencer said quickly, his cheeks flaming. “And… I didn’t want to overwhelm Y/N.”

“Overwhelm her?” Garcia interjected, standing and practically running over to greet you. “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous! Spencer, no wonder you kept this a secret. You were worried we’d steal her away!”

You laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “I think he was more worried you’d scare me off.”

Rossi chuckled from his spot by the fireplace, raising his glass. “Smart man. We can be a lot to handle.”

As introductions were made, the team took turns gawking—not so subtly—at Spencer’s choice in a partner. It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated them; it was the way you carried yourself, with confidence and kindness, and how Spencer looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“So how did you meet?” Emily asked as the group settled around the dining table, with you seated beside Spencer.

“It was at a bookstore,” you began, glancing at Spencer. “I overheard him recommending a book to someone, and I was so intrigued that I went over to ask him about it.”

“She thought I was showing off,” Spencer interjected, a rare mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well, you were quoting entire passages and explaining the cultural significance of the author,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“That sounds about right,” JJ said with a laugh. “Classic Spencer.”

You smiled at Spencer, your eyes softening. “But I thought it was endearing. He wasn’t showing off—he was just so passionate about it. We ended up talking for hours, and the rest is history.”

“You must have the patience of a saint,” Morgan joked. “Spencer can’t order a coffee without giving the barista a lesson on the origin of beans.”

“Oh, I love that about him,” you said, earning a chorus of “aww”s from the group. Spencer’s ears turned red again, but this time he was smiling.

As the evening wore on, the team got to know you better. You shared stories about your relationship, like how Spencer always left sticky notes with random facts on the fridge for you, or how he insisted on teaching you the basics of chess despite your protests.

“You’ve got a good one here, Y/N,” Rossi said as he handed you a slice of pumpkin pie. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

“I remind myself every day,” Spencer said quietly, his hand finding yours under the table.

As the night wound down, Garcia turned to you with a dreamy sigh. “Y/N, I have to say, you’re absolutely amazing. And stunning. I mean, no offense, but Spencer? How did he manage this?”

“Garcia!” Spencer groaned, hiding his face in his hands as the room erupted in laughter.

“It’s true!” she exclaimed, unapologetic. “Y/N, you’re like a movie star, and Spencer is… well, Spencer.”

You smiled, leaning closer to Spencer. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” you said, your voice warm. “He’s even more amazing than you think.”

That quiet confession silenced the room for a moment, the team exchanging soft smiles. Spencer looked at you, his hazel eyes brimming with gratitude and love.

Rossi raised his glass again. “To Spencer and Y/N—an exceptional couple. Here’s to family, in all its forms.”

As the toast echoed around the table, Spencer squeezed your hand, his heart full. For the first time, his two worlds had collided, and instead of falling apart, they’d created something beautiful—a family he could finally share you with.

[classicfilmblr]

DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS in THE BLACK PIRATE — 1926, dir. Albert Parker The most celebrated sequence of the film, and perhaps of Fairbanks's entire career, is the moment in which the Black Pirate, when capturing a galleon single-handedly, slashes a line with his knife, catches the end of the mizzen, and swings upward with the wayward sail to the main topsail. He then plunges his knife in to the canvas of the topsail and slides down the sail, supported by the hilt of his knife as it severs the canvas in half. He rends the mainsail in the same manner. The feat is so spectacular that Fairbanks repeats it once more with the fore topsail, rendering the ship powerless. The Black Pirate swings through the lines to the forecastle, swivels about a pair of cannons he has commandeered, and holds the crew as helpless as the galleon itself.

The sliding down the sails is a grand stunt, building on Robin Hood's celebrated descent down the enormous drapery in Robin Hood [1922]. The 43-year-old showman is in top physical form, and the appearance of effortlessness, the breathtaking arcs of movements, and the sheer joy with which he accomplishes the impossible are ample demonstrations of Fairbanks's kinetic genius.

The sequence was achieved with separate sail sets engineered by Robert Fairbanks on the back lot, apart from various ship settings, and erected on an angle away from the cameras (which were also on an angle). The sails, according to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., were "pre-sliced and then stitched up invisibly. . . .The knife was rigged with piano wire, pulley, and counterweight. . . .He would thrust his knife into the sail and there would be a quick cut. The next cut would be of him holding the special knife connected to the hidden pulley and counterweight."

Airplane propellers behind the canvas provided the billowing effect for the sails. As with all of his stunts, Fairbanks wore a wire harness, and his arms and legs were taped to prevent friction burns. Although no one doubted at the time that he performed the stunt, William K. Everson later maintained that Fairbanks did not do so himself. But the accounts of Albert Parker, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., and Chuck Lewis and the surviving outtakes from the scene itself dispel any claim that Fairbanks did not perform his most famous feat. Fairbanks's bravura stunt was subsequently pirated by a stunt double for Errol Flynn in Against All Flags (1952) and by Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest (2006).

One of the immediate effects of the famous sequence was all the injuries sustained by impressionable children imitating their screen idol. Edward Wagenknecht wrote, "One shudders to think how many broken arms and legs he must have been responsible for among the children of America during the years of his vogue." Robert Parrish, a future director and film editor, was one such child. He recalled having seen The Black Pirate in his hometown of Columbus, Georgia, and immediately wanting to emulate the spectacular Fairbanks stunt:

"As a seven-year-old, I had seen Douglas Fairbanks in The Black Pirate plunge a knife into the sail and riding the knife down to the deck. I tried the knife stunt myself that afternoon with a borrowed linen bed sheet. Some friends and I attached it to the limb of an oak tree about ten feet off the ground. I climbed the tree with a butcher's knife in my mouth trying to smile like Fairbanks—I soon tasted blood in my mouth—and pointed the knife at the sheet and jumped. The sheet crashed down upon me like a deflated parachute and the knife flew out of my hand. I landed on the ground with a broken arm, the wind knocked out of me, and blood running from my Fairbanks grin."

[penguininahottub]

This is, by no means, original thought. However, after the release of Beatles ‘64, I just want someone to make a Beatles film that is for us. Forget the mainstream and do what Cynthia said had never happened - people getting the emotion right instead of just the facts. The Beatles story isn’t a success story, it isn’t a rags to riches story, it isn’t an even a story about genius, it’s a story that has the power to change the world and one that will be told for ever. We are living in an era where we get to witness a myth being made and so in tribute to the oral tradition, we need to be the myth-makers. Someone needs to tell the story. I hope it will be Paul. I fear it won’t. Perhaps he can’t or shouldn’t, perhaps he won’t be believed. He definitely won’t be if everyone, including him, keeps recycling the same tropes. We know there’s no new stuff to be created, but there is a new light to be shed on what we know is there. This is beginning to sound a bit like the discovery of the Book of Mormon. No one needs another religion, but we do need is for someone to actually attempt to approach this seismic cultural event with an honest and open perspective.

Yoko allowed John to believe he was the genius. John’s canonisation (his manufactured image does him no favours) means that we can forget that Paul was the revered one in the 60s. He was the chosen one - in every way. John clocked it at their very first meeting.

“I half thought to myself, He’s as good as me, I’d been kingpin up to then. Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen?”- John

He took a risk, he made his choice and then never again believed in his own ultimate superiority. The story he’d told himself growing up, was that nobody was capable of spotting his genius because they were all below him. Surely a trauma response to being abandoned by his parents. Never could stand to be ignored, forever desperate to be seen and yet incapable of taking off the armour of cruelty. Look at me! Paul was the same, not armour but a wall of charm. Underneath John was soft and Paul is that almost impenetrable wall. They let each other in, and each betrayed the other. Those instincts of self-preservation that John spoke about.

Anyway, he took the chance on Paul, because he wanted to be somebody and Paul and him together made that a real possibility. Also, Paul was fucking hot and clever and talented. He was also a non-conforming weirdo who made everything look effortless and wouldn’t join John’s gang and wouldn’t let him lead. I wonder if this was Paul knowing, from the first moment of seeing John as was then confirmed by subsequent sightings and (I suspect) recces, strategically carried out to observe John (oh that bus worship carries some significance beyond an appreciation for public transport), that he knew how to handle John. Handle and manage John, in order to make him his very own.

(Is it him? Does it matter, because Paul has told us he “noticed” John many times, even before the chocolate bar.)

But, all the Paul adulation, especially John’s own uncontrollable, unconditional veneration, got to be too much. He couldn’t keep his jealousy in check. No quantity of material objects, women, money, food, fame soothed the ache for long enough. He thought Yoko, and because I am sure this is what Yoko promised him, was the only person who would always be in awe of him. She wasn’t, and the really tragic part is that Paul was from the jump, he still is and his faith never waivered.

If only they’d been able to maintain the connection and never lose the ability to read each other’s minds.

They burned too brightly. They loved too hard.

[eyrieofsynapses]

why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

[prettymfwrites]

CaitVi Streamer Headcanons pt. 2

Streamer CaitVi x female reader

Uses they/them pronouns though

Summary: More moments of our favorite streamers and their muffin

(Sorry for any mistakes! )

What I pictured you to look like:

Feel free to imagine whatever though!

---

Award Ceremony Night

The award ceremony was a dazzling time. glittering chandeliers, the hum of chatter, and a red carpet teeming with streamers and influencers. I lingered near the bar, cradling a drink in my hand, feeling slightly out of place amid the extravagance. But then I saw them.

Caitlyn walked with effortless grace, her navy dress shimmering under the lights. Her confidence was magnetic, every tilt of her head and flick of her wrist commanding attention. Beside her, Vi exuded a rugged charm in a perfectly tailored suit, her short pink hair slicked back. She carried herself with a swagger that screamed, I know I look good.

They were breathtaking, and I couldn’t help but stare.

Caitlyn’s sharp blue eyes found mine first. A soft smile tugged at her lips, and she raised a brow as if to say, Caught you staring, darling. She winked, and my heart skipped a beat.

Moments later, Vi turned her head, following Caitlyn’s gaze. Her smirk widened as she locked eyes with me. She gave me a mock salute, her playful expression making me feel like I was the only person in the room.

They approached me like magnets, Caitlyn sliding her arm lightly around my waist while Vi draped an arm casually over my shoulder.

"You clean up well, love," Caitlyn murmured, her voice low and warm.

Vi grinned, leaning in closer. "Not bad, huh? Though I think you could’ve coordinated with us. Navy would’ve looked killer on you."

I laughed, realizing her gaze was stuck on my chest, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I didn’t realize there was a dress code. But by the way you're staring I can tell you don't mind."

Caitlyn leaned in slightly chuckling, her lips brushing against my temple. "Don’t listen to her. You look perfect."

Vi tilted her head, feigning hurt. "Hey, I just said they looked killer. Stop trying to one-up me, cupcake."

"Then stop making it so easy," Caitlyn quipped back with a smirk.

The night was filled with moments like these—stolen glances, light touches, and the unmistakable tension between the three of us. At one point, as they both received an award for "Best Co-Stream of the Year," they pulled me into their celebratory hug, Caitlyn pressing a kiss to my cheek while Vi’s lips brushed my temple.

"I don’t know if I should feel lucky or overwhelmed," I teased as we walked back to our table.

Caitlyn’s hand lingered on mine. "Hopefully both," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

---

Streamer Rivalry

Sitting in Caitlyn’s streaming room felt oddly intimidating. Her setup was pristine, every wire and light perfectly in place, a sharp contrast to the chaos that was Vi’s usual domain.

"Ready to destroy Vi?" Caitlyn asked, handing me a controller as her chat flooded with excitement.

"Ready to try," I replied nervously, adjusting my headset.

The game loaded, and almost immediately, Vi’s voice cut through the headphones.

"Hey, babe," she said, her tone dripping with mock confidence. "You sure you wanna team up with Cait? She’s all strategy, no bite."

I laughed, and Caitlyn shot me a playful glare. "Don’t listen to her. Stick with me, and I’ll have you wiping the floor with her in no time."

True to her word, Caitlyn’s instructions were impeccable. She leaned in close, her voice soft in my ear as she guided me through the game. Her hand occasionally brushed against mine, her proximity making it incredibly hard to concentrate.

"Focus, love," she murmured, her lips dangerously close to my cheek.

By some miracle or Caitlyn’s genius—we won. Vi groaned loudly in defeat, her voice crackling through the headset.

"Betrayed by my own favorite person? This is a dark day," Vi lamented dramatically.

"Maybe you should stop underestimating me," Caitlyn replied smoothly, her fingers grazing mine as she leaned back with a victorious smile.

"Rematch," Vi demanded.

"Only if you behave," Caitlyn shot back, her hand resting casually on my knee under the desk.

---

Jealousy Prank

The prank started innocently enough. Chat had been egging me on for weeks to mess with Caitlyn and Vi, and I couldn’t resist.

"So, y/n," Vi said during a group stream, her voice teasing. "What’s got you smiling like that? You’ve been suspiciously giggly today."

"Oh, nothing," I replied, glancing at chat for backup. "Just... someone I’ve been talking to. They’re really sweet."

Caitlyn’s brows lifted ever so slightly, though her calm expression didn’t falter. "Oh? Anyone we know?"

"Probably not," I said with a shrug, pretending to check my phone.

Vi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "What do you mean probably not? Who is this mystery person?!"

The chat exploded with laughter and emojis as I dodged their questions, making the two of them squirm.

The final straw came when I pretended to take a call mid-stream. "Hey," I said softly, turning slightly away from the camera. "Yeah, I miss you too. Maybe later?"

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned back in her chair. Vi was less subtle, throwing her arms up. "Okay, what the hell is going on here?"

I burst out laughing, and chat lost it with me. "Relax, you two. It’s a prank. Chat’s been in on it the whole time."

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking her head with a smile. "You’re insufferable."

Vi pointed at the camera, glaring playfully. "Chat, you’re all grounded. And you’re not getting away with this."

---

A Quiet Moment

After the stream ended, Caitlyn lingered behind, her touch light on my shoulder as we tidied up.

"You’re really enjoying being the center of attention, aren’t you?" she teased, her voice low.

"Maybe a little," I admitted, grinning.

The door opened, and Vi walked in, leaning against the frame. "Am I interrupting something, or can I join?"

Caitlyn sighed but didn’t let go of me. "You never don’t interrupt."

Vi stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me gently toward her. "Hey, I don’t hear y/n complaining."

I laughed nervously as Caitlyn’s hand slid down to my other hip, her eyes locking with Vi’s in a silent challenge.

"Should we give them something to complain about?" Caitlyn murmured, her lips brushing lightly against the corner of my mouth.

Before I could answer, Vi’s hand tilted my chin toward her, and her lips met mine in a kiss that was both playful and surprisingly soft. When she pulled back, Caitlyn claimed her turn, her kiss slower, more deliberate, leaving me breathless.

"You two are impossible," I whispered, my voice shaky.

Vi smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "You love it."

Caitlyn’s lips quirked into a smile as she leaned her forehead against mine. "Admit it, y/n. You wouldn’t have us any other way."

And they weren’t wrong.

---

Having insane writers block 😔

Send requests!

[thegoldencontracts]

The Oddity Of Kindness

Jade finds you quite amusing, really. He can't help but wish to catch you off-guard. And yet, his plans are thrown off by your dastardly schemes of- genuine kindness?

Notes: NGL Jade would actually make a really good Kaguya from love is war but at the same time I like it better when there is no shirogane... Just him doing that stuff and some random person who's incredibly nice (I low-key wanna make this fic a series guys HELP-)

Jade always found you to be quite the peculiar individual. You never displayed the fear characteristically shown around him. Oblivious, perhaps?

Your peculiarity just made you all the more fascinating. Jade couldn't help but wonder how you'd react upon finding out his true nature.

He'd lamented this to Floyd. Floyd had just said he was being "lame". How foolish. Jade was most certainly not being lame, in fact, he was being incredibly cunning in his schemes to catch you off-guard. He was intelligent, analyzing your weaknesses with am effortless prowess rarely seen, and he had a flawless plan.

Really, it would be so amusing to toy with you a tad. After all, what could you possibly do against him?

"You're blushing, Jade," Azul had commented idly as Jade left to meet you at the botanical gardens, where you went every Saturday morning to pick strawberries. Somehow, Trey let you pick them without charging anything like he had with Jade. You must've been a genius of wit to make that happen.

"Perhaps you require an eye-exam, Azul," Jade said with a laugh. Honestly, what sort of lovesick fool did Azul think he was? Blushing like some schoolgirl meeting their crush! "Your glasses clearly aren't high enough in power. Would you like me to schedule an appointment for you?"

Azul merely rolled his eyes.

"You would do well to get yourself an eye exam," he said, waving Jade off with a shoo. Whatever. Azul simply failed to comprehend Jade's plan. Really, most people would. It was so dastardly Jade couldn't help but feel a bit bad at his own cold-hearted nature.

He was going to fluster you. That was the end goal. He'd already laid out a step-by-step process, along with backup-plans for your every counter.

The first step was to enter the greenhouse. He'd just done that. The second was to walk over to where you were. Closer, closer, taking in the slight scent of petrichor, the fresh, ruby-red strawberries that surrounded you, until...

"Ah, Jade!" You jumped up at the sight of him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly upon facing him. "Sorry. Didn't see you there."

He smiled, making sure to keep his mouth closed. It made him seem polite, but slightly unnerving due to the way the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Phase one of his plan - to catch you off-guard and leave you at a disadvantage - was a success. It was time for phase two.

"Don't worry," he said. "I completely understand. Regardless, I'm rather curious as to what you're doing. You show up at the garden rather often at this exact time, you see."

He'd just combined steps three and four into one. He'd both unnerved you a bit more by implying that he'd observed your habits and made for a smooth transition to bringing up why he came to the botanical gardens.

"Oh, I'm just here to pick some strawberries for Trey!" So you picked those as a favor to him. That explained why Trey never attempted to seek payment. "He's pretty swamped in Heartslabyul most days, so I like to deliver the strawberries to him."

So you were kind, yes, but that was nothing but old news. More importantly, why weren't you unnerved by the fact that Jade seemed to know you well?

"What about you?" You asked. "I can't name a time, but I know you come here pretty often too. Mind sharing why?"

So, it'd finally come to this. Jade could already picture the sight of you caught off-guard. It would be so tantalizing- amusing. It would be amusing. Not tantalizing, and certainly not something to savor.

"You truly wish to know? It might frighten you," he said, with that typical, unnerving grin of his. But you didn't even bat an eye. How peculiar.

"Yeah, sure!" You said.

His plan was coming to an amusing fruition. Jade knew his eyes were sparkling as he started his ramble.

"I have a love for mushrooms," he said. "The beautiful, often poisonous things. I come here to grow them. I cultivate them ad best as I can, you know. Some fungi can't be grown here. Those tend to be more poisonous. The fun ones. And then, after a long time, the mushrooms are ready for cultivation. The ones that seem edible get fed to others. And yet, they must complain. I still remember the ghost chef who kept insisting it was rude to feed others mushrooms that freeze the tomgue. How odd, no? It was merely a bit of fun."

Silence ensued, with you keeping your hand clasped firmly over your mouth. Jade grinned. He'd done it. To think, you were so easily frightened. How amusing.

But then, you burst into laughter.

"What seems to be the matter?" He said. This wasn't what he expected to happen. Most people were dying to run away, yet paralyzed in fear.

"I- hah, sorry," you said, wheezing in attempts to catch your breath. "You're just so cute when you talk about your mushrooms. And then you were looking at me at the end like you were expecting something, and I just couldn't help it!"

At his reaction, you seemed to come to a realization.

"Did you actually think that'd scare me?" Here it was. You'd show your less kind side to mock him.

But then, your expression seemed to somber for a bit, before you puffed yourself up in an act of resoluteness.

"All those people who tell you it's weird are wrong!" You said, seeming awfully indignant. "You're cute when you get all excited and your eyes sparkle, a-and I loved learning more about your cultivation process. The information's a bonus, not something to put up with!"

You thought he was- cute? T-That wasn't true at all! Jade wasn't cute, he was a predator, and he was cold and cunning in a way that had brought fear upon others! Even as a child, he'd been feared by the high-profile clients Father had him hunt.

So how could you of all people think he was cute? This was utterly absurd. No one thought he was cute, especially not when he talked about mushrooms!

His mouth went dry. His face felt so hot it felt like it would combust any second. What was he to do? He'd never thought this would happen!

"You okay, Jade? Your face is really red," you said. Somehow, you seemed nothing but concerned. There wasn't an ounce of malice in your eyes, and he didn't understand that. Why? Weren't you going to attempt to take advantage of this rare moment of weakness? To garner a favor?

"I- must leave," he said, swallowing rapidly in hopes of overcoming the knot that seemed to form in his throat. "Until next time. This was a pleasure."

"Yeah, I was really nice getting to know you better!" You said. "And don't feel bad about how red your face is! I think it's super cute! But, since it probably means you're sick, rest up, okay?"

What sort of dastardly trick was this? You couldn't possibly be so well-intentioned. So caring, so concerned, over him? It was incomprehensible.

A retreat. He had to stage a retreat. This was too much.

"Hey, Jade!" Said Floyd, right as Jade had strained the illusion of safety. "You're so red right now? 'Rest up, okay'?"

Floyd had- heard everything?

"You'd beat be quiet, dear brother," he said. His voice cracked. Jade's voice never cracked! That simply wasn't something that happened.

"No, no, Floyd is right," said none other than Azul, approaching Jade from the other direction. He was trapped. "What happened to you? Perhaps your little crush managed to turn the tables on you?"

There was nothing to speculate for either of them. They'd seen it all go down. But Jade had to put an end to this somehow.

"It would be a shame if I were to tell everyone about both of your more embarrassing moments, now wouldn't it?" That wasn't nearly as subtle as Jade would've liked. But it did the trick, and got both Azul and Floyd to quit revelling in his suffering.

"Why must you be this way?"

"Boo. Killjoy."

Jade couldn't help but let out a small laugh at their comments as he pulled himself together.

"Regardless, the Prefect truly is a fascinating character," he said. You really were quite the odd one, weren't you?

Change of plans. He didn't want to fluster you anymore. No.

Now, he was going to woo you.

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part one.

꒰ ៹ . " 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍. "

meet me in the pale moonlight. - lana del rey

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: there's a new genius on the block...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.0k

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: jealous spencer, new girl in town type vibe, tension

it was a sight that no one in the unit ever thought they’d live to see. aaron hotchner, unit chief of the bau and “world’s biggest grump”, was smiling.

“hey, who’s the kid..? she’s been here for over an hour and doesn’t look like she’s reporting a case.”

spencer’s voice sat just above a whisper as he gazed at the girl chatting it up like it was nothing with the man in charge. you looked like you were cut straight out of a fairytale, bright-eyed with a glowing smile on your face like you had just won a beauty pageant. spencer didn’t have any clue who you were or what the hell you were doing here, because anyone who knew what this job was all about wouldn’t dare flash a smile that pretty.

jj tucks a golden-blonde lock of hair behind her ear, a smile of her own tugging at her lips as she glanced over at you. 

“that’s the new agent that the office has been buzzing about. i met her already. total sweetheart.”

spencer would’ve barked out a laugh if he had a sense of humour. but he simply stared at you, jaw slightly slacked as he gazed at you from across the room. he didn’t even know he was staring until you met his look from the corner of your eye. he bite his lip, turning away quickly as soon as you caught him looking at you.

he bit back a curse, adjusting his glasses that had gone askew on his face. from his peripheral vision, he saw the mild smile that appeared on your face when you saw him. like you were seeing an old acquaintance for the first time in years. there was no reason for a tiny grin like that to summon such a queasy feeling in his gut.

spencer couldn’t help but wonder what you and hotch were discussing. all spencer had gotten on his first day of the job was a pat on the back and a half-assed “good luck”. he had never been able to hold a conversation with him without his palms getting clammy, and here you were, acting like it was as natural and effortless as breathing. 

a slap on the back shocked spencer out of his covetous gaze.

“reid’s got his eye on the new girl, huh?”

morgan bellowed out a loud laugh, his firm hand gripping spencer’s shoulder as heat arose in his cheeks. the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, especially when he was starting to lose it.

“shut it, morgan. and no, i was just trying to get a look at her. that’s all.” he fidgetted nervously with his thumbs, clearing his throat as his feet tapped on the ground, eyes glued to the ground. but even with his gaze far away from you, he could still sense the feeling of you approaching.

the nearer you got, the more spencer could just barely pick up the scent of something sweet.

“hey, dollface…” morgan abandoned spencer’s side, coming next to you to wrap an arm around your shoulder. “how’re you liking the office so far? not too scary, right?”

you smiled, the friendly atmosphere drinking you in. “it’s alright. everyone’s been super sweet.”

morgan nodded. “good to hear. well, you met jj this morning.” he brought you just a little closer to spencer. “and this is the BAU’s boy-genius, spencer reid.”

a friendly grin lit up your face, but he refused to bring his gaze to yours. you extended your hand to him, practically beaming like the sun as you spoke. “it’s so nice to finally meet you. i’m agent ()”

“mhm. i heard.” he muttered under his breath, taking his glasses off of his face and setting them on his desk. he tucked a loose strand of chestnut-brown hair behind his ear, just for it to rebelliously slip out again. you awkwardly left your hand out until your realized that he wasn’t going to shake it. you pursed your lips, putting your hand back to your side, the smile on your face unwavering.

morgan and jj dispersed, leaving you and spencer alone at the desk. he remained seated while you stood, giving him a close view what you were wearing: a short, black pleated skirt, a gray button-up that was neatly tucked in, black socks and… high-top sneakers. ones that matched his perfectly. the coincidence would’ve been nice if the circumstances had been different.

he didn’t know when he had started sulking, but his mood only seemed to worsen when you talked again with that sweet, smooth voice. 

“i look forward to working with you, doctor. i’ve heard so many good things about you.”

he nodded, his mind buzzing with things that he wanted to say back, but couldn’t. damn you, your pretty face and your good manners. he felt a little uneasy about being so cold toward you. you looked like you were fresh out of highschool. but when he felt ready to talk, then he would. 

he stood up, sealing his lips in a tight line and nodding slightly. “...nice to meet you.” he mumbling so quietly that you didn’t hear a thing. with that, he began to walk off, leaving you behind with confusion painted across your pretty face. but as soon as he got to the door, rossi met him with a smile.

“ah, reid. i’ve been looking everywhere for you. i need you to show our new agent to her desk. she should be around here somewhere.”

spencer cleared his throat again. it was a nervous tick that he had been trying to break for years. he lowered his voice slightly. “she’s, uh, over there.”

rossi glanced behind spencer to see you, giving you a friendly wave. “perfect. you’ve already met her. i trust you’ll help her get all settled in.” he handed spencer a tag with your name on it before walking away. spencer muttered to himself as he walked back over to you. he beckoned you to follow, which you did like an obedient puppy. he led you over to an empty desk, polished and just waiting to be filled with paperwork. spencer set the nametag down on the desk, straightening it out before looking at you, meeting your gaze for the first time.

“welcome to the team.”

fill out the taglist form ! : @mikaaj @feyresqueen @guiltyyassin

[growthhyp]

Vincent's Growing Notes II

Vincent stepped onto the scale, the digital display blinking as it calculated. His breath hitched. 320 pounds. Pure muscle. He glanced at the mirror, his reflection staring back with a chiseled jawline and veins snaking across his forearms like rivers of power. The nanobots had done their work—5% body fat, a towering 6’5”, and his cock… he smirked, running a hand over the bulge in his spandex shorts. 15 centimeters in length, 18 in girth. A weapon of mass seduction.

He flexed, his back muscles rippling like waves under his skin-tight tank top. Every inch of him screamed dominance. The gym had become his kingdom, but today, he had a different conquest in mind. “Showtime,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and headed for the library. The air shifted as he walked, heads turning, whispers trailing behind him. He didn’t need to look back to know they were watching. They always were.

Vincent’s towering frame cast a shadow over Adrian’s table, his presence both commanding and strangely comforting. Adrian looked up nervously, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger. The sight of Vincent’s chiseled jawline and piercing gaze made his heart skip a beat.

Vincent’s eyes locked onto Adrian the moment he stepped into the library. The kid was hunched over a table, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of textbooks and circuit boards, his unkempt hair and oversized hoodie screaming "loner genius." It was like looking at a younger version of himself—before the nanobots, before the transformation.

A smirk tugged at Vincent’s lips as he strode over, his muscular frame cutting through the quiet hum of the library with effortless confidence.

“Hey,” Vincent said, his voice smooth but commanding, as he slid into the seat across from Adrian. “You look like you could use a hand with all that tech.”

Adrian’s head snapped up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he took in the towering figure before him. His eyes widened, darting from Vincent’s chiseled jawline to the veins snaking across his forearms. “Uh… hi,” he stammered, pushing his glasses back up. “I’m Adrian. And yeah, it’s… a lot.”

Vincent leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his biceps flexing under the tight sleeves of his tank top. “Vincent,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. His grip was firm, warm, and lingered just long enough to make Adrian’s cheeks flush. “I’ve seen you around here. You’re the quantum computer guy, right?”

Adrian blinked, surprised. “Yeah, that’s me. How did you—”

“Word gets around,” Vincent interrupted with a wink, his tone playful yet confident. He leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the space. “So, what’s the holdup? Cooling system giving you trouble?”

Adrian’s mouth opened, then closed. He hesitated, glancing down at the mess of wires and schematics in front of him. “Yeah,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s supposed to revolutionize computing, but without the right cooling mechanism, it’s just… stuck.”

Vincent nodded, his gaze sharpening with interest. “Cooling systems can be tricky. But I’ve got some experience with unconventional solutions.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge. “What if I told you I could help you crack it?”

Adrian’s eyes widened again, this time with a mix of hope and disbelief. “You’d do that? But… I don’t even know how I could repay you.”

Vincent chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Don’t worry about repayment, Adrian. Helping a fellow nerd in need is its own reward.” He flashed a grin, his teeth gleaming in the soft library light. “Besides, I’ve got a feeling you’re going places. Might as well give you a push.”

Adrian swallowed hard, his heart racing. There was something magnetic about Vincent, something that made him want to trust him despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind. “Okay,” he said finally, nodding. “But… let’s keep this between us, yeah?”

Vincent’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his chest brushing against the edge of the table. “Deal,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, show me what you’ve got so far.”

As Adrian began explaining his project, Vincent listened intently, his piercing gaze never leaving the younger man’s face. Every now and then, he’d interject with a question or suggestion, his confidence infectious. By the time they were done, Adrian felt a spark of excitement he hadn’t felt in months.

“This is incredible,” Vincent said, leaning back in his chair with an approving nod. “You’ve got talent, Adrian. With the right guidance, you could change the world.”

Adrian’s cheeks flushed again, but this time, there was a hint of pride in his smile. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I… I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously.”

Vincent leaned back in his chair, his biceps flexing under the tight sleeves of his tank top. “But before we get into that,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, “tell me more about your life, Adrian. How’s it going outside the lab?”

Adrian glanced up from his notes, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of the textbook. “It’s okay, I guess,” he mumbled, his eyes darting away. “Just trying to keep up with the workload and avoid getting into too much trouble with the jocks.” He bit his lower lip, cheeks flushing. “They don’t really get why I’m here.”

Vincent’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding in his piercing eyes. He stretched his arms slightly, the muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his tank top. “I know the type,” he said with a smirk. “But you don’t have to deal with them anymore, not when you’ve got a secret weapon.” He winked, his gaze lingering on Adrian’s trembling lip. “I’ve got a proposition for you, Adrian. Something… extraordinary. A way to change the game. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and I think it could help you with more than just your quantum computer.”

He leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against Adrian’s cheek. “Let’s just say I’ve made some… modifications to myself,” he continued, a sly smile playing on his lips. His eyes darted around the library before he lowered his voice. “I’ve got these little helpers—nanotechnology bots. They can alter your body in ways you never thought possible. No more bullies, no more hiding behind your books.” He flexed his arm, the veins snaking across his forearm like rivers of power. “They’ve turned me into this,” he said, gesturing to his transformed physique. “And I want to help you, Adrian.”

Adrian’s eyes widened, his imagination racing. “That… that’s incredible,” he stammered, trying to process what Vincent was offering. He glanced down at his own body, feeling a pang of inadequacy. “But what do you get out of it? Why me?”

Vincent’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for fellow nerds,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve seen how the world treats us, and I want to even the playing field.” He leaned in closer, his hand resting gently on Adrian’s shoulder. “And I can tell you’ve got a spark in you, Adrian. You just need a push in the right direction.” His grip was firm but not painful, his touch grounding. “Imagine, no more hiding in the shadows, no more fear. With these nanobots, you could become the envy of everyone—especially those jocks who think they’re better than us.”

Adrian’s thoughts swirled with skepticism and hope. He’d heard of steroids and their side effects, but if what Vincent was saying was true, this could be his ticket out of the nerd stereotype. He looked up at the towering figure before him, the man who had once been in his shoes, and saw sincerity in his eyes. “But how can I trust you?”

“You don’t have to trust me blindly,” Vincent replied, his voice soothing. “Think of it as a… trial run. If it doesn’t work out, you can just tell everyone it was a crazy rumor.” He winked again, his hand still resting on Adrian’s shoulder. “But I can guarantee, you won’t be disappointed.” He glanced around the library, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear. “And as for what I want, I just want to see someone else experience the power and confidence these little guys have given me.”

Vincent paused, his expression turning serious. “Now, here’s the thing,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “The beauty of these nanobots is that they transfer through bodily fluids.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the armrest. “And the best way to introduce them to your system is through… intimate contact.”

Adrian’s face flushed crimson, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his textbook. “Vincent, I’m… I’m flattered by your offer,” he stammered, his voice shaking slightly. “But I’m straight. I’m not sure if this is something I can… do.”

Vincent nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “I understand,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “But this isn’t about attraction, Adrian. It’s about transformation. About unlocking the potential inside you.” He leaned forward again, his gaze intense. “Think about it. This could be your chance to rewrite the rules, to step into a version of yourself you’ve only dreamed of.”

Adrian swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of Vincent’s words hung in the air, heavy with possibility.

As Adrian pondered over Vincent's proposal, the air grew thick with anticipation. The very thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, a cocktail of excitement and apprehension. The allure of unbridled power, the kind that could make anyone's jaw drop in awe, was a temptation too potent to ignore. Yet, the implications were vast, like the uncharted expanses of the universe, filled with questions and doubt. Vincent had given him the ultimate gift, four weeks to mull over the decision that could change his life forever.

Vincent had always been an enigma, a man of mystery with a smile that could charm the stars out of the sky. His eyes, deep pools of emerald, held secrets that seemed to speak of strengths beyond the mortal realm. Now, as he awaited Adrian's response, he knew he had to be patient. The transformation was a gradual process, a meticulous dance of biological alchemy that couldn't be rushed.

During those four weeks, Vincent had devoted himself to his workout regimen with a fervor that would put the most dedicated of gym rats to shame. Each day, the mirror reflected a man more god-like than the last. His body grew at a rate that defied belief, his muscles bulging out of his clothes like they were trying to escape their fabric prisons. His arms looked like they could crush boulders with a simple flex, and his legs had taken on the appearance of tree trunks that could topple the mightiest of oaks.

The transformation was a slow burn, a testament to the power of the nanobots coursing through his veins. Each day, they went to work, sculpting his body into a masterpiece that would make even the most seasoned of bodybuilders weep with envy. His shoulders grew wider, his chest a vast plateau of unyielding muscle, and his abs a series of rigid valleys that spoke of unparalleled dedication to his craft. His neck had thickened, becoming a sturdy column that supported his now heavy, chiseled head with ease. His back was a landscape of power, each muscle group distinct and defined, rippling like the waves of the ocean beneath the sun's warm embrace.

But it wasn't just his body that was changing. His cock had also undergone a transformation of its own, growing to a size that was both terrifying and thrilling. It had swollen to a length of 18 centimeters, a girth of 19 centimeters, a behemoth that was more than enough to satisfy any partner's deepest desires. It was a symbol of his burgeoning power, a constant reminder of the change he was undergoing.

Vincent had been meticulous with his measurements, tracking his progress with the enthusiasm of a scientist documenting a new species. His height had shot up to 6'9", making him a towering giant that dwarfed the average man. His weight had ballooned to an astonishing 400 pounds, but not an ounce of it was fat. His body fat percentage had plummeted to a mere 1%, leaving him with a physique that was more akin to a Greek statue than a mere mortal.

The final week of the ultimatum had arrived, and with it came the crescendo of changes. His skin took on a luminous sheen, as if kissed by the light of a thousand suns. The veins on his arms bulged with the pressure of his newfound strength, a testament to the Herculean blood that now flowed through him. His face had become more angular, more masculine, with a jawline so sharp it could cut through the densest of metals.

The conversation with Adrian had been brief but intense. Vincent had laid out the terms, his voice a velvety purr that seemed to resonate with an underlying power. He had promised Adrian a transformation that would make him irresistible to anyone he desired, a force to be reckoned with. All Adrian had to do was come to his place at 4 pm, the moment of truth, and accept the gift that was being offered.

The clock ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity. Vincent was a cocktail of nerves and anticipation, his muscles twitching with the excitement of what was to come. Would Adrian come?

[sebstanaddict]

Filming Frenzy

Sebastian Stan x Reader Unhinged One Shot

Summary : Reader is an actress who just got cast to be in an action comedy movie opposite the Hollywood heartthrob Sebastian Stan. But her perception of Sebastian being a cool and broody man like the Winter Soldier was dashed as Sebastian was proven to be an ultimate dork who loves pranking his co-stars. One prank lead to another and the pranks turn into an all out war. Who will win the war and cement themselves as the king or queen of pranks in Hollywood?

A/N : This story is inspired by Sebastian's story of pranking his co-star back in the day and how it seems he loves pranking 😆 Two of the pranks actually happened, can you guess which ones? 😁

Warning : none, just an all out funny and hilarious story 😁

Read more Sebastian Stan and Bucky Barnes one shots here.

---

The first day on the set of Spy Harder was a sensory overload of blockbuster proportions. The hum of power tools mixed with the clang of metal, as the crew put the finishing touches on an elaborate spy lair. Fake smoke wafted dramatically through the air, making everything look ten times more intense than necessary. Even the catering table seemed impossibly glamorous, with artisanal pastries glistening under the lights like they’d been spritzed with movie magic.  

And there, in the middle of it all, was Sebastian Stan. 

Y/n spotted him instantly, leaning against a stack of crates like he had been ripped directly from the pages of GQ. Leather jacket. Perfectly tousled hair. Aviator sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He exuded effortless cool - the kind of aura that could only come from playing a Marvel superhero or owning a yacht.  

“Oh my God, it’s really him,” Y/n whispered to herself, her heart doing an embarrassing tap dance in her chest.  

She had rehearsed for this. She’d envisioned herself walking up, shaking his hand with just the right amount of confidence, and delivering a witty yet professional introduction that would make him instantly respect her as an equal. This was her moment.  

Instead, she found herself walking over like a starstruck fan. “Hi, oh wow, um, hi,” she stammered, immediately regretting every life choice that had led her to this point.  

Sebastian turned, lowering his sunglasses with the kind of precision that seemed pre-programmed for dramatic effect. “You must be Y/n,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with movie-star charm as he extended his hand to her and she shook it. 

“Yep! That’s me!” she blurted, practically vibrating. “Wow, it’s so great to meet you! I’m such a huge fan. Like, huge. Like, I’ve seen everything you’ve done. The Covenant! Loved it. Totally underrated. And don’t even get me started on Monday, so artistic! And The Bronze! Incredible. I mean, hilarious. The.. flexibility thing? Genius.”

“Wow,” Sebastian said, eyebrows raised, clearly trying to keep up with her verbal avalanche. “Thanks. That’s.. really nice of you.”

She realized she was still holding his hand and let go abruptly, trying to play it off like she hadn’t just confessed to memorizing his IMDb page. “Anyway! Yeah. Excited to work together. Totally professional here. Zero weirdness.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, clearly amused. “Totally professional,” he repeated, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. “Looking forward to working with you,” Sebastian added, his smile somehow both humble and dazzling.  

She nodded rapidly, her cheeks burning. “Same here. Totally. Looking forward to.. whatever cool, broody, mysterious stuff you bring to the table.”  

For a second, she was convinced this man wasn’t even human. He was too suave, too polished, too..

“Hold that thought,” Sebastian interrupted, raising a finger. He turned toward the catering table, where a tray of muffins sat innocently. “You see that?”  

Y/n followed his gaze, confused. “The muffins?”  

“Not just muffins,” he said cryptically. He reached out and grabbed one, holding it up like he’d just discovered fire. “Blueberry muffins. Nature’s perfect snack. These bad boys are fuel for greatness.”  

Before Y/n could say anything, he took a huge bite.. and immediately started choking.  

“Hold up!” Sebastian coughed, pounding his chest as crumbs flew everywhere. “Why is it.. why is it so dry?! Who made this?!”  

Y/n stared, horrified, as he frantically tried to swallow, looking less like a Hollywood heartthrob and more like a man who had been betrayed by baked goods.  

Sebastian grabbed a cup of coffee off the table, downed it in one gulp, then immediately gagged. “Who the hell puts cinnamon in coffee?! Are we on a Hallmark movie set?”  

Y/n clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”  

Sebastian finally recovered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Totally fine. Just.. testing the limits of my taste buds. You know, for the craft.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “The craft involves choking on a muffin?”  

“Sometimes,” he replied solemnly. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed another muffin and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “You know. For later.”  

Y/n’s awe evaporated faster than a CGI explosion. “You just pocketed a muffin you nearly died eating.”  

He shrugged. “Never give up on a second chance.”  

As if that weren’t enough to shatter the image of “cool Sebastian Stan” she’d built in her mind, he turned toward the crates he’d been leaning on earlier. “By the way,” he added, “check this out.”  

With zero explanation, he picked up a wooden plank and struck what she assumed was supposed to be a ninja pose. “Been practicing my moves for weeks,” he announced proudly.  

Before she could stop him, he swung the plank at a nearby punching bag. The plank snapped in half instantly, and the momentum sent him spinning, arms flailing, until he tripped over his own feet and landed in a heap on the floor.  

The entire set went silent.  

From his position on the ground, Sebastian held up a finger. “It’s cool. I meant to do that.”  

Y/n stared at him, torn between horror and hysterical laughter. “You’re.. not at all what I expected.”  

He grinned up at her, completely unfazed. “Good. Expectations are overrated.”  

Her first impression of Sebastian Stan - the brooding, mysterious Hollywood megastar - was gone. In its place was a muffin-hoarding, plank-wielding disaster who somehow made falling on his ass look charming.  

She sensed that working with Sebastian was going to be a lot more chaotic - and a lot more fun - than she’d bargained for. 

—-

First Week

The first week on set felt like summer camp for adults with a multi-million-dollar budget. Between the constant boom of test explosions and stunt doubles flipping off cars like caffeinated ninjas, it was clear this wasn’t going to be your average work environment.  

Y/n was slowly settling in, though she was still grappling with the reality of working alongside Sebastian Stan. Every time she caught sight of him, she couldn’t shake the image of the broody, badass Winter Soldier. But after a few days, she realized the man behind the character wasn’t broody at all.  

No, Sebastian Stan was an agent of chaos.

It started with small things: the way he couldn’t walk past the catering table without stealing a croissant and stuffing it in his pocket “for later,” or the time he accidentally knocked over a prop barrel, tried to catch it, and ended up pulling down an entire fake wall in the process.  

And then there was the smoothie incident.  

Y/n was sitting in her trailer, flipping through her script, when she heard a commotion outside. She peeked through the window just in time to see Sebastian holding a blender, arguing with a production assistant.  

“Listen, all I’m saying is, protein powder is boring,” Sebastian insisted.  

The assistant looked exasperated. “Because it’s a protein smoothie.”  

“Exactly!” Sebastian said, as if this were the most logical argument in the world. “Which is why I added Pop Rocks. For texture.”  

“And the gummy bears?”  

Sebastian shrugged. “For morale.”  

Y/n snorted and shook her head. By the time the smoothie exploded in a sticky, rainbow-colored mess, she wasn’t even surprised.  

Later that day, she was on set, running lines with him between takes. It was a relatively quiet scene, involving a tense exchange over a fake briefcase.  

“You know, you’re pretty serious for a comedy,” she teased, slipping into character.  

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “And you’re too trusting for a spy.”  

She frowned, puzzled, but before she could ask what he meant, the director called for a break. Y/n plopped into her director’s chair, taking a sip of her coffee..

Ffffffrrrrttttt!

The noise echoed across the set, loud and obnoxiously wet.  

Y/n froze, her coffee halfway to her lips. “What the..”

She glanced down and spotted the unmistakable shape of a whoopee cushion, its pink plastic barely visible under the cushion of her chair.  

Sebastian was already doubled over, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against a table. “Oh my God, your face!” he wheezed. “I thought you were going to spill your coffee!”  

“Sebastian!” she shrieked, grabbing the offending object and hurling it at him.  

He dodged, still laughing. “What? It’s a classic!”  

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, standing up to inspect her coffee. Thankfully, it hadn’t spilled.  

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “And you just got initiated. Welcome to set.”  

“Oh, it’s on now,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.  

Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying, keep your head on a swivel. You never know when I’ll strike next.”  

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, despite herself. It was in that moment she realized two things:  

1. Sebastian Stan wasn’t just a Hollywood heartthrob, he was a dork in disguise.  

2. She was going to spend the rest of this movie trying to outwit him.  

—

Second Week

The film set buzzed with energy that Monday morning - a controlled chaos that somehow fueled the creativity of everyone involved. Lights hung overhead like glowing trapeze artists, cameras rolled with practiced precision, and stunt coordinators barked commands while actors in ridiculous harnesses dangled mid-air. The smell of fresh coffee and pancake syrup wafted from the craft services table, mingling with the sharp scent of pyrotechnics and fake blood.  

Sebastian Stan lounged in his director’s chair, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Across from him, his co-star Y/n was mid-rehearsal, delivering a sarcastic one-liner to a green-screen stand-in shaped vaguely like a mutant robot. Though the script was packed with high-stakes action and snappy dialogue, the atmosphere on set was relaxed. That was, until Sebastian decided to shake things up.  

The opportunity presented itself at the craft services table. Y/n, bleary-eyed, was yawning as she reached for her caffeine fix.  

“Man, if I don’t drink this, I’m gonna be useless by scene three,” she mumbled, tugging at the mug. It didn’t budge.  

She frowned and tried again, her grip tightening. Still nothing. “What the hell? Did I suddenly lose all my upper body strength, or is this mug stuck?”  

Across the table, Sebastian leaned casually against the counter, barely hiding his grin. “Weird. Maybe it’s just you? That’s a lot of gym selfies for someone who can’t lift a coffee cup.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “You did this, didn’t you, you glue-gun psychopath?”  

He gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Who, me? I’d never!” He paused, smirking. “Okay, I would. But this one wasn’t me. Honest.”  

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Sure. And I suppose the glue still on your fingers is from.. what? Your arts and crafts class?”  

Sebastian glanced at his hand, then back at her, deadpan. “No. I’m making a scrapbook of all the times I’ve outsmarted you.”  

Y/n didn’t laugh. Not outwardly, at least. But as Sebastian strolled away, she was already planning her revenge.  

The next day, Sebastian’s smug grin vanished when his voice suddenly blared over the set’s sound system during a quiet moment.  

Y/n, determined to get him back, managed to swipe his walkie-talkie and sneakily tune it into the sound system so now his voice was blaring all around the set.

“Testing, one-two - wait, why is this so loud? Uh.. whoever is in charge of snacks today, can we get some more of those tiny sandwiches? And maybe a fresh batch of guacamole? This is Sebastian Stan, signing off.”  

The crew dissolved into snickers as Sebastian emerged from behind a prop truck, eyes narrowed. Y/n stood nearby, biting her lip to keep from laughing.  

“Wow, Stan,” she called out. “Demanding much? Is this the Hollywood diva arc we’ve all been waiting for?”  

“Oh, real mature, Y/n!” he shot back. “You just wait.” He threatened.

By the third prank, Sebastian decided to escalate. With a bribe and some charm, he convinced the hair-and-makeup team to rig Y/n’s hair dryer with a harmless - but hilariously messy explosion of glitter.  

In the privacy of her trailer, Y/n flicked on the dryer, expecting a gentle blast of warm air. 

“Finally, some me time,” she muttered when a loud *POP* was followed by a glittery storm of pink and gold cascading over her.

Sebastian poked his head into the trailer, his grin wide enough to rival a Cheshire cat’s. “Wow. I didn’t know you were auditioning for My Little Pony: The Musical. Bold choice.”  

She turned slowly to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and menace. “Sebastian, this isn’t a prank. This is an act of war.”  

He doubled over laughing. “Oh, come on. You look magical! Like a unicorn had a midlife crisis and exploded.”  

Y/n rose to her feet, glitter cascading to the floor with every movement. “Hope you enjoy finding glitter in your socks, your cereal, and your soul for the next ten years. Because that’s what’s coming for you.”  

The crew had caught on by now, whispering about the escalating prank war between the two stars. The stunts and explosions in the script were impressive, sure - but they had nothing on the chaos unfolding behind the scenes. 

—-

Third Week

By the third week of filming, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had reached legendary status. The cast and crew were now unwitting accomplices, silently choosing sides or pretending not to notice the chaos brewing behind the scenes. 

The first day of the third week began innocently enough - or so it seemed. Y/n strolled onto set, a cappuccino in hand, savoring the comforting aroma of caffeine. She took a sip and immediately froze.  

Her eyes widened, and she stared into the cup as if it had personally insulted her. “What the actual hell?”  

Sebastian, leaning casually against a prop table, suppressed a grin. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of artisanal flavors?”  

“This tastes like someone drowned a fish in my coffee!” she spat, clutching the cup like a weapon.  

“Oh, come on,” he said, barely containing his laughter. “It’s a cappuccino.. with a twist. You know, surf and turf for breakfast.”  

Y/n glared at him, then turned to a nearby crew member. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”  

The crew member pretended to adjust a light, whistling nervously.  

“Enjoy your laughs, Stan,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. “Because I just remembered that karma works fast.”  

Sebastian should have been suspicious when he found a frothy green smoothie waiting for him at the craft services table later that afternoon.  

“Wow, someone really stepped up the catering game,” he mused, picking up the glass. Y/n watched from a distance, trying to suppress her grin.  

He took a generous sip and immediately gagged. “Oh my God! What is this?!”  

Y/n appeared at his side, feigning concern. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of umami smoothies? It’s Sprite and soy sauce. Very trendy in some circles.”  

Sebastian doubled over, wiping his tongue with his sleeve. “You’re psychotic!”  

“Me?” she said sweetly. “I just thought you’d appreciate a taste of your own medicine.”  

Later that evening, Y/n walked to her car, exhausted from a long day on set. She climbed in, started the engine, and waited for the GPS to load.  

“Turn left in zwei hundert Metern,” the robotic voice announced in crisp German.  

Y/n frowned. “What?”  

“Turnen links jetzt,” the voice insisted.  

She groaned, smacking the steering wheel. “Sebastian! You switched my GPS to German?”  

The sound of muffled laughter came from nearby. She rolled down her window to find Sebastian leaning against his own car, clearly delighted with himself.  

“You’ve got this, Y/n,” he called. “Just channel all those European art films you’re always bragging about watching!”  

“Enjoy being lost in Seoul, you jerk,” she snapped.  

He froze. “What?”  

“Your phone. I switched the language to Korean. Good luck calling your agent!”  

The next morning, things got weirder. Y/n bit into what she thought was a chocolate croissant from craft services, only to discover it was made entirely of foam.  

She spat it out, glaring at the culprit. “Fake food? Really? That’s so amateur, Sebastian.”  

“Is it, though?” he said, unwrapping his sandwich. He took a bite - and immediately realized it was made of rubber.  

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.  

“This war is getting out of hand,” she admitted, still laughing.  

“Never,” he replied. “We’re just getting started.”  

But the real coup de grâce came during wardrobe fittings.  

Sebastian emerged from his trailer, his costume pants visibly tighter than they should have been. He tugged at the waistband, trying to make them fit. “What the hell? Did they shrink my pants in the wash?”  

Y/n, watching from the sidelines, smirked. “Oh no, you look great! Very.. form-fitting. It really shows off your quads.”  

“I can’t even sit down without risking a wardrobe malfunction!” he protested.  

“Then don’t sit,” she said innocently.  

His payback didn’t take long. Later that day, Y/n was supposed to wear an elegant evening gown for a pivotal scene. She stepped out onto set, only to realize the dress had been altered to include an exaggerated train that stretched a good ten feet behind her.  

She tripped on it almost immediately.  

“What the.. why am I suddenly starring in Gone with the Wind?” she shouted, glaring at Sebastian.  

He shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I thought you’d appreciate the drama. You know, it’s giving very red carpet moment.”  

“You’re dead,” she hissed, hiking up the ridiculous train and stomping off to wardrobe.  

By the end of week three, the entire cast and crew had taken sides in the escalating prank war. The director, at his wit’s end, tried to address it during a production meeting.  

“I’m begging you two to call a truce,” he said, rubbing his temples. “We’re behind schedule, and..”  

“I’ll call a truce,” Y/n interrupted, “when Sebastian admits he can’t fit into his own pants anymore.”  

“And I’ll call a truce,” Sebastian retorted, “when Y/n stops hoarding glitter like it’s the cure for all her problems.

”The crew groaned. The director sighed. And the war raged on. 

—-

Fourth Week

By week four, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had surpassed the realm of playful antics and entered the domain of pure chaos. The crew was now fully invested, taking bets on who would break first. The set had become a battlefield of wits, and there was no telling where the next blow would land.

The week began with a surprise for Sebastian: his car, once a sleek black beauty, was now covered in neon Post-it Notes from bumper to bumper. Each note bore a poorly drawn stick figure of him, along with captions like “World’s Okayest Actor” and “I Heart Tom Hiddleston.” 

Y/n stood nearby, coffee in hand, trying to keep a straight face.  

“Y/n,” he said flatly, inspecting the chaos. “Do you have any idea how long this is going to take to clean?”  

“Oh, I do,” she replied, smirking. “That’s why I’m staying to watch.”  

“Careful,” he warned, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You’ve awakened the dragon.”  

Y/n stepped out of her trailer the next day, script tucked under one arm, getting ready to go home after a whole day of filming without Sebastian for a change. 

She made her way to the parking lot, humming to herself, until her gaze landed on her car.  

Her brain needed a full five seconds to process what she was seeing.  

Googly eyes.  

Googly eyes everywhere.  

Her entire car had been transformed into some kind of cartoonish nightmare. The headlights each sported a massive pair of eyes, complete with fluttery lashes. Smaller googly eyes were stuck all over the doors, windshield, tires, and even her side mirrors. There were hundreds - no, thousands - of them, ranging in size from dime-sized dots to the kind that belonged on giant stuffed animals.  

“What the..” Y/n approached the car cautiously, as though it might start talking to her in a squeaky voice. She reached out and poked one of the larger eyes on the hood. It wobbled unnervingly.  

A voice from behind her broke the silence.  

“I call it The Car That Sees All.”  

Y/n spun around to find Sebastian leaning casually against a nearby golf cart, arms crossed, grinning like a kid who just got away with stealing the last cookie.  

“Sebastian,” she said, her tone deadly calm, “what did you do to my car?”  

He gestured to the googly masterpiece with a sweep of his hand, as if unveiling the Mona Lisa. “You’re welcome.”  

“Welcome?!” she shouted. “It looks like a Muppet had a midlife crisis all over it!”  

Sebastian gasped, feigning offense. “Muppets are a national treasure, thank you very much.”  

She narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hips. “How long did this take you?”  

“Hours,” he admitted proudly. “Had to get the right mix of big and small googly eyes, you know? Balance is everything.”  

“You balanced my humiliation?”  

“Y/n,” he said solemnly, “you don’t humiliate art. You appreciate it.”  

She snorted, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I appreciate it, all right. Just wait until you need a ride somewhere and I pull up in this thing.”  

“Are you kidding? This car’s a legend now!” he said, circling it with admiration. “People are gonna turn heads when they see this rolling down the street.”  

“They’re going to call animal control because they think it’s possessed,” she muttered, shaking her head.  

Sebastian tilted his head, considering. “Fair. But admit it - this is the best prank yet.”  

She gave him a long, hard look, then finally cracked a small smile. “Fine. I’ll admit it. This is.. annoyingly clever.”  

“Thank you.” He bowed, smug as ever.  

“But don’t get comfortable,” she added, stepping closer. “Because payback’s coming. And when it does? It’s going to have twice the googly eyes.”  

Sebastian grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can’t wait.”  

Sebastian returned to his trailer after a long morning of rehearsals later that week only to stop dead in his tracks. Every available surface of his trailer - walls, ceiling, furniture - was covered in glossy, high-resolution pictures of Tom Hiddleston.  

Tom in a suit. Tom in Loki gear. Tom smirking. Tom dramatically staring into the distance.  

The pièce de résistance? A life-sized cardboard cutout of Hiddleston perched in the middle of the room, holding a sign that read, “#TeamTom.”  

“Y/n!” Sebastian roared, stepping inside and ripping one of the pictures off the wall. “Really? Hiddleston?”  

Y/n strolled by his trailer, sipping a coffee with the most innocent expression she could muster. “Oh, hey, Sebastian! Did you get my little.. tribute?”  

“You’re a menace,” he said, holding up a photo of Hiddleston holding a Golden Globe award. “This is personal.”  

She smirked. “I thought it might inspire you to aim higher.”  

Sebastian, of course, wasn’t going to let that slide. The next morning, Y/n found her trailer transformed into a bubble wrap fortress. The walls, the furniture, even the floor were wrapped tightly in layers upon layers of bubbles. Her chair popped loudly as she sat down, and her makeup mirror was completely unusable under its bubbly cocoon.  

“Really, Stan?” she muttered, stomping around and popping bubbles with every step.  

Sebastian leaned against a nearby production van, watching her with smug satisfaction. “What can I say? Safety first.”  

“Oh, I’m going to get you for this,” she called out, snapping a strip of bubble wrap in his direction.  

“Take your time,” he said, walking away. “I’m sure Tom Hiddleston could help you come up with something.”  

But Sebastian wasn’t ready for what came next.  

During lunch break the next day, a small group of women suddenly appeared at the edge of the set, armed with signs that read things like “Justice for The Covenant!” and “Why did you do Monday?” They screamed and waved frantically whenever Sebastian walked by, calling out, “Sebastian, we still love you - despite your terrible career choices!”  

Y/n leaned casually against a food truck, grinning ear to ear as she watched the chaos unfold.  

Sebastian squinted at her, ignoring the fans chanting, “Fresh Start! Fresh Start!”  

“You recruited my craziest fans?” he asked, incredulous.  

“Yep,” she replied. “Turns out, they’re a very passionate bunch.”  

“Y/n, this is insane. You can’t just weaponize fandom!”  

“Oh, I absolutely can.” She sipped her smoothie, then added, “They’re staying for the whole day, by the way. Better keep your head down.”  

Sebastian smirked despite himself, already plotting his retaliation.  

Y/n had been bragging about a new, "fancy" perfume she’d bought, claiming it was "exquisite" and "unique." Sebastian, knowing that she’d never expect him to go after her precious fragrance, decided to make his move.

He waited until she was filming a scene, and the moment she left her trailer, he crept inside like a ninja.

Y/n’s perfume was sitting on the table, practically begging to be tampered with. Sebastian had an idea. He went into the trailer’s tiny kitchen and grabbed a bottle of garlic oil, along with a few other suspicious ingredients he could get his hands on. Then, he carefully swapped the contents of her perfume bottle with his concoction. A mix of garlic oil, a dash of motor oil, and a hint of something that could only be described as “fishy.” He carefully sealed the bottle, gave it one last glance of satisfaction, and slipped out without leaving a trace.

When Y/n returned to her trailer and reached for the perfume, she didn’t think twice. She was in the mood to smell fabulous.

Sebastian hid outside, watching through the window like the deranged mastermind he was.

Inside, Y/n spritzed herself generously with the perfume, took a deep breath, and then - her face froze. Her eyes darted to the bottle, then to the air around her.

What.. the hell?

A wave of disturbing scent engulfed her. It was like someone had bathed in expired garlic bread, motor oil, and that weird smell that comes with rotten fish. Her face contorted in disbelief as she recoiled, nearly knocking over the perfume bottle in shock.

She took a few steps back and sniffed again. "Oh, no." She looked down at the bottle with horror. "What.. did I just do?"

Sebastian could barely keep his composure. From the outside, he could hear her gagging.

Y/n rushed to the mirror and sniffed her neck in disbelief. "I smell like I just rolled in a dumpster fire mixed with a pizza that's been left out in the sun for two weeks!" She grabbed a cloth to try to wipe it off, but it was like the scent was bonded to her skin.

She stormed out of the trailer, holding the cloth to her face in a desperate attempt to neutralize the stench. "Sebastian!” she yelled, looking for him like a predator.

Sebastian, pretending to act innocent, leaned casually against her trailer. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You,” Y/n hissed, narrowing her eyes. “You did something to my perfume!”

Sebastian grinned, fighting the urge to laugh. “What are you talking about? That perfume smells great!”

“No. No, it does NOT,” she snapped, “I don’t know what sick magic you’ve cursed me with, but I will get you back for this. I’ll make sure you never smell like roses again.”

Sebastian tried, and failed, to keep a straight face. "Hey, if you’re going for something unique, that’s a one-of-a-kind scent."

“I smell like I’ve been marinating in a vat of industrial waste,” she growled. “I hope you enjoy my revenge because it’s going to be epic.”

—-

Fifth Week

By week five, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had spiraled into absolute chaos. What had started as harmless fun was now a full-blown production nightmare, with the entire cast and crew living in constant fear of becoming collateral damage. Nothing on set was sacred anymore - not props, not food, and certainly not personal space.  

It was as if they were in a live-action Tom and Jerry episode, except Jerry was armed with glitter bombs, and Tom had a talent for sabotage that bordered on genius.   

Sebastian should have known something was up when Y/n was too quiet during lunch on the Monday of that week. Her mischievous grin - hidden behind a fake veneer of innocence - should have been the first clue. But Sebastian, ever the professional (and occasionally gullible), had shrugged it off.  

The scene was a critical one: his character was supposed to leap off a skyscraper in a dramatic escape. It required a harness and rigging, and the entire crew was abuzz preparing for the perfect shot. Little did he know, Y/n had spent the previous evening plotting the most spectacular prank yet.

Sebastian stood at the edge of the set’s mock skyscraper, adjusting his gloves and glancing down. “Alright, let’s get this over with. One take, people!” he called out confidently.  

“Don’t forget to make it epic, Seb!” Y/n shouted from below, barely able to keep a straight face. She was stationed with the crew at ground level, holding a walkie-talkie like she was an important part of the operation.  

Sebastian gave her a playful glare. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Unlike you, I nail my stunts.”  

“Bold words for someone about to become internet famous, ” Y/n muttered under her breath, smirking.  

The crew members, who were in on her plan, exchanged knowing glances as they prepared the rig. Hidden within the harness was Y/n’s pièce de résistance: a full-blown unicorn costume. Complete with a rainbow mane, sparkly hooves, and a long, flowing tail that would flutter majestically in the wind.

“Ready?” the director called out. 

Sebastian nodded, rolling his shoulders. “Born ready.”

As the countdown began, Y/n gripped the walkie-talkie tighter, barely containing her glee.

“Three… two… one… action!”  

Sebastian leapt off the platform with a dramatic yell, his arms outstretched like an action hero. The harness engaged smoothly, suspending him in midair as the cameras rolled.  

But then - whoosh!  

The hidden compartments in the harness deployed, unfurling the unicorn costume in all its sparkling, pink glory. In an instant, Sebastian transformed from a rugged action star into a mythical creature, complete with a glittering horn atop his head.  

“What the.. ?!” he bellowed mid-swing, realizing something was very, very wrong. He twisted to look at himself and nearly lost it when he saw the rainbow hooves dangling in front of him.  

The crew burst into laughter, some doubling over while others frantically filmed the spectacle on their phones. Y/n was on the ground, practically wheezing.  

“SEBASTIAN THE MAJESTIC!” she yelled through the walkie-talkie. “THE HERO WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED!”  

“Y/n!” Sebastian roared, his voice echoing as he dangled midair. “What the hell is this?!”  

“It’s called artistic flair, Seb,” she shouted back, tears streaming down her face. “You’re finally reaching your full potential!”  

Sebastian tried to glare down at her, but it was hard to look intimidating with a sparkly horn bobbing on his head. “When I get down from here, you’re DEAD!”  

“Oh, come on,” Y/n teased, doubling over in laughter. “You look so majestic! I bet you’ll trend on Twitter by lunchtime!”  

“Cut!” the director called out, wiping away tears of his own. “Oh my God, I needed that.”  

When Sebastian was finally lowered to the ground, still wrapped in his unicorn ensemble, he marched straight toward Y/n. She held up her hands in mock surrender, still giggling.  

“Okay, okay, don’t kill me!” she pleaded. “It was too perfect to pass up.”  

Sebastian stopped inches away from her, leaning down so they were face to face. His voice was low and dangerous, but his lips twitched with a suppressed smile.  

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, Y/n,” he said. “Because I’m coming for you.”  

Y/n grinned wickedly. “Bring it on, Unicorn King.”  

And just like that, the Unicorn Leap Incident became legendary on set - immortalized in behind-the-scenes footage and memes that Sebastian would never live down.

But just days later another legendary prank courtesy of Sebastian happened. After the Unicorn Leap Incident, he knew he had to up his game. No glitter, no costumes - this time, it had to be bigger. So naturally, he turned to the special effects team, who were all too happy to assist in pulling off the most chaotic prank of the century.  

It was late in the evening, and Y/n was wrapping up a scene in a dimly lit alley set. Exhausted, she dragged herself toward her trailer, yawning and muttering about the world’s need for longer naps. What she didn’t know was that Sebastian had been plotting for days.  

Hidden in the shadows of the lot, Sebastian and a crew of conspirators were armed with remote controls, fog machines, and, most importantly, a massive inflatable alien spaceship.  

As Y/n approached her trailer, she noticed an odd mist creeping around the base. She paused, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell..?

The faint hum of something mechanical started, growing louder and louder. Her head whipped around as flashing green lights illuminated the area.  

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, already suspicious.  

Before she could react, an enormous inflatable UFO descended from the top of the set, complete with spinning lights, glowing tentacles, and a deep voice that boomed:  

“YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN, EARTHLING.”  

Y/n screamed, instinctively ducking as the UFO hovered precariously close. “WHAT THE HELL?!”  

From a hidden speaker, Sebastian’s voice - disguised by a hilariously bad alien accent - blared out. “WE REQUIRE YOUR *GLITTER-BASED ENERGY* FOR OUR PLANET.”  

“SEBASTIAN!” Y/n shouted, spinning in circles to find him. “I SWEAR TO GOD..”  

Before she could finish, the UFO shot out a giant net, which ensnared her in a ridiculous tangle of inflatable tentacles.  

“HELP!” she cried out, half-laughing, half-panicking as the net tightened around her.  

The fog machine intensified, surrounding her in a haze. Suddenly, a group of extras in full alien costumes emerged from the mist, their heads bobbing comically as they marched toward her.  

“Oh, come on!” Y/n wheezed, struggling against the net as they began to chant in an absurd alien language that sounded suspiciously like someone reciting a Taco Bell menu.  

One alien stepped forward, holding a silver scepter. In a deep, melodramatic voice, he proclaimed:  

“The Glitter Queen shall ascend to our mothership!”  

“GLITTER QUEEN?!” Y/n shrieked, doubling over in laughter.  

From a safe distance, Sebastian was clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face as he controlled the inflatable UFO with a remote.  

“She’s losing it!” he gasped between laughs.  

“SEBASTIAN STAN, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!” Y/n hollered, caught somewhere between hysterical laughter and actual rage. “WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS NET -”  

“Bow to your alien overlords, Y/n!” Sebastian called out from behind the fog, his voice nearly cracking from laughing so hard.  

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”  

Eventually, the UFO slowly “ascended” back into the sky, the aliens retreated, and the net released Y/n, leaving her sitting on the ground, disheveled and gasping for air.  

Sebastian emerged from the mist, still laughing as he offered her a hand. “Peace offering?”  

Y/n glared up at him, though her grin betrayed her. “You’re dead to me, Unicorn King. Dead.”  

Sebastian shrugged, smirking. “Admit it - you’ll never forget this abduction.”  

Y/n took his hand, pulling herself up before smacking him on the arm. “Oh, I’ll remember it, alright. When I turn your trailer into a real crime scene.”  

The crew, watching from the sidelines, erupted into applause. The Alien Abduction Prank became a legend on set, rivaling even the infamous Unicorn Leap - and the prank war was far from over. 

Y/n had spent days orchestrating her pièce de résistance: convincing Sebastian his trailer was haunted. With the help of the effects crew and some horror-movie-level theatrics, she turned his cozy retreat into the set of Paranormal Activity: Actor’s Edition.  

The speakers were rigged to emit creepy whispers, the lights wired to flicker unpredictably, and, the crowning glory - a life-sized animatronic ghost ready to scare the living daylights out of Sebastian. She even got fake blood to drip from the bathroom mirror, spelling out ominous messages. Y/n was particularly proud of the fog machine that turned the bathroom into a misty portal to another dimension.  

Sebastian walked into his trailer in the evening, several days later, blissfully unaware of the chaos lying in wait. He tossed his bag on the couch, humming a tune, when suddenly - BANG! The door slammed shut behind him with the force of a WWE wrestler.  

He jumped, glancing over his shoulder. “Weird,” he muttered, shrugging it off.  

That’s when the whispers began.  

“Seeeebaaaastian...”  

He froze mid-step. His eyes darted around the room. “Y/n, if that’s you, I swear..”  

The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then plunged the trailer into darkness.  

“Oh, hell no,” Sebastian muttered, pulling out his phone to turn on the flashlight. Before he could, the bathroom door creaked open, and a cloud of fog billowed out like a gothic villain’s entrance.  

“Y/n?!” he called out, voice an octave higher than usual.  

No response.  

Instead, the whisper returned, louder and creepier: “Leeeave... NOW.”  

Sebastian backed up, eyes wide, when suddenly, the animatronic ghost floated out of the fog, its glowing eyes locked onto him.  

He let out a scream that could’ve shattered glass.  

“OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!” he yelled, grabbing the nearest object - a throw pillow - and chucking it at the ghost.  

The ghost advanced, arms outstretched, emitting a low, guttural moan.  

“NOPE. NOPE. I AM DONE. I’M DONE!” Sebastian scrambled to the door, yanking at the handle, which had mysteriously “jammed” thanks to Y/n’s prior tinkering.  

Behind him, the bathroom mirror began to drip with fake blood, spelling out: *GET OUT NOW.*  

Sebastian froze. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” He tugged harder on the door, cursing under his breath. “Why won’t this damn thing open?!”  

Meanwhile, Y/n and the crew were outside, watching the hidden camera feed and laughing so hard some of them were on the verge of collapsing.  

Inside, Sebastian was still fighting for his life. The ghost let out a sudden, piercing shriek, and the fog machine blasted a fresh cloud of mist.  

Sebastian panicked, grabbing his bag and flinging it at the ghost. “I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL SUE THIS TRAILER!”  

Finally, Y/n burst in, flipping on the lights and yelling, “Gotcha!”  

Sebastian froze, looking like he’d just run a marathon while being chased by rabid dogs.  

“YOU!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at her.  

Y/n was doubled over, tears streaming down her face as she howled with laughter. “Oh my god, Seb, your face! I can’t breathe!”  

Sebastian glared, his chest heaving. “You’re evil! Legitimately evil!”  

“Worth it,” Y/n choked out, barely able to stand.  

Sebastian glanced at the animatronic ghost, now harmlessly slumped in the corner. He groaned, rubbing his temples. “I’m never trusting you again. Ever.”  

“Oh, come on,” Y/n teased, grinning. “You have to admit, it was a masterpiece.”  

Sebastian narrowed his eyes but couldn’t suppress a reluctant smile. “Alright, Y/n. You win this round. But just wait. The king of pranks always gets the last laugh.”  

“Bring it on, Unicorn King,” Y/n shot back.  

And with that, the prank war escalated to a whole new level of chaos.

His payback came on a Friday - the day of Y/n’s birthday.  

Y/n stepped into her trailer that morning and immediately froze.

The door creaked open, and she was met with.. chaos. Absolute chaos.  

A chicken clucked and strutted across her carpet. A pair of rabbits hopped over her shoes. A duck waddled by, quacking indignantly.  

And in the corner stood a llama.  

“Larry,” a sign around its neck read. “Please take care of me.”  

“SEBASTIAN!” she bellowed, stepping inside as a lamb tried to chew her purse strap.  

From behind her, he appeared, holding his phone like a proud dad capturing her reaction. “Happy birthday, Y/n!”  

“Are you INSANE?!” she yelled, dodging a goat that had somehow squeezed under her table.  

“It’s a mini farm,” he said with a grin. “You’ve been talking about wanting to adopt a dog, so I thought, why not start big?”  

“Big?!” she repeated, gesturing to the llama. “Sebastian, there’s a llama in my trailer!”  

“Larry,” he corrected.  

“And ducks! And - oh my God, is that a sheep?!”  

“Technically, it’s a lamb,” he said.  

She buried her face in her hands, half-laughing, half-crying. “You’re insane.”  

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “But admit it - you’re impressed.”  

“Impressed?” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m..”  

“Admit it,” he interrupted, smirking.  

“Fine,” she said, sighing. “You got me. This is.. hilariously absurd.”  

“Good,” he said softly, his tone shifting. “Because I have one more surprise.”  

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “If this involves glitter, aliens, or another llama. ”  

“Nope,” he said, cutting her off. He held out a small gift bag, grinning at her. 

Y/n took it, and peeked inside. It was a box of chocolates - real ones - and a handwritten note that read, “You’re the only person who could survive five weeks of this madness with me.”

When she looked up, his expression had softened.  

“Listen,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “This prank war has been fun - okay, it’s been ridiculous - crazy even - but.. I was wondering if we could call a truce?”  

Her brow lifted. “A truce? You mean you’re finally admitting defeat?”  

“Not exactly,” he replied, grinning. “I’m proposing we redirect all this energy into something.. else. Like maybe dinner? Just the two of us?”  

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Wait. Are you asking me out right after you brought a llama into my trailer?”  

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of timing.”  

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“Is that a yes?”  

Y/n glanced at Larry, then back at Sebastian, her smile widening. “Fine. But only if you promise to clean up this farm.”  

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “And for the record, Larry stays.”  

“Absolutely not.”  

As they walked out of her trailer together, the crew cheered then let out a collective sigh of relief, knowing the prank war had finally - and mercifully - come to an end.

Larry, however, was spotted lounging in Sebastian’s trailer later that afternoon, party hat still firmly in place while Sebastian and Y/n finally went off set as dates and not enemies.

[darkside-writing]

Spoiled

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, Incestuous relationship, dubcon(?), manipulation, slight infantilization, oral sex (M receiving), female pronouns

Pairing: Father!Shikamaru Nara x Daughter!Reader

Words: 3.7K

The moment Shikamaru learned of your existence he knew that he would do absolutely anything within his power to protect you. Despite being a teen father Shikamaru accepted fatherhood with effortless ease, taking on the role of caregiver and protector naturally. While Shikaku was admittedly disappointed in his son being reckless, he soon accepted this outcome and supported his son’s choices. Your conception came from a simple one night stand with a girl from an unknown clan, she had visited Konoha to attend a festival where they met briefly. While the revelation of getting a one night stand pregnant should have angered the Shadow Nin, he accepted the responsibility of his actions quickly. Shikamaru did not have any feelings for the foreign woman, he only used her pussy once just to temporarily satiate his needs. They would eventually sit down together to agree that a relationship was not viable. However, Shikamaru did push for her to bring the pregnancy to term so he would raise his child on his own. It would not be long before the pregnancy flew by and you were left with the single father to raise on his own.

Fatherhood became something Shikamaru embraced. He practically spoiled you rotten, never having the heart to deny his princess of anything. The Nara was especially weak to your tears. Once those crystal drops brimmed your eyes, Shikamaru would have thrown himself onto the blade if it made them go away. Your childhood would soon breeze by and eventually lead you becoming the young, beautiful woman he sees now. Shikamaru would be lying if he did not feel a swell of pride whenever he saw you. Your beauty is something that Shikmaru knew drew attention to all around you no matter where you went. However, he would also have to admit that the Nara genius also skipped your pretty little brain. Don’t get him wrong, Shikamaru loves you regardless of your intelligence. However, he just knows that your naivete is something that he would have to keep a close eye on. He doesn’t want any boys to take advantage of you. Which is why when you approach your papa and bring the news of your new boyfriend, the older Nara is completely stunned. Even more so when you tell him it is Naruto’s very son that you are dating.

Of course he knew that someday you would get boyfriends, he isn’t blind to your attractiveness. Like a young minx seducing every man that crosses her path, her papa was also affected by it. Shikamaru, feigning as much boredom as he could, brushes off his princess’ news of her boyfriend. However, anyone who knew the Nara could easily see the turmoil building inside. It was much too early for you to be dating! He is also no fool to what all boys are after, he was once one with the same mindset as well. It leaves a bad taste in the Shadow Nins mouth at the thought of his precious daughter losing her virginity to Naruto’s son, or any boy for that matter. No one is good enough for his daughter, they do not deserve the honor of getting to stretch open her virginal walls with their pathetic cocks.

Yet as Shikamaru thought over and over about the prospect of you having sex with other boys, a peculiar bubble formed in his chest at the idea of being your first. It is disgusting and immoral but he can’t get rid of the feeling of arousal at the idea. So what if he was the one to take your virginity? No other man could take care of you like he can. He is more than experienced enough to guide you through the throes of passion.

Shikamaru curses as he feels his cock stir at the very mental image of spreading your legs open, exposing your perfect virginal pussy to him. Your little twitching clit just begging for him to suck and lick to your first orgasm. He would also rather take it to his death bed than admit he has masturbated over his daughter before. With a frustrated sigh Shikamaru unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, springing up at full attention against his abdomen. The tip is drooling precum and a thick engorged vein pumping blood travels underneath the shaft. He needs to make this quick before you come home. It has been so long since he has been buried in a tight wet pussy, ever since you were born he has sworn off any relationships. With practiced calloused hands wrapped around his member, he brings his hand up the thick shaft in a slow motion before stopping. His palm teasingly squeezes the tip of his cock before sliding down his shaft again, repeating the motion in a hasty jerk off session. His balls ache from how full they are that it has him going feral at the thought of depositing his entire load inside your young pussy. Oh Gods how he wished he wasn’t a sick pervert, jerking off to the thought of his own flesh and blood.

“Shit..” he cursed underneath his breath as he stroked his cock in a hasty rhythm. Desperate to drain his balls before his baby girl came home to find her perverted daddy masturbating. With a mental image of you in his mind, he quickly found release all over his hand. Thick cum oozing over his cock that began growing soft, leaving Shikamaru in post-climactic haze as his mind comes to terms with the fact that he just masturbated to his own daughter. He lights a cigarette to take off the edge of his sins before getting up to clean himself up.

Later that night when you returned home on your first date with Naruto’s son, he could tell something was on your mind. Usually you filled their small home with mindless chatter and giggles, yet he could clearly see on your face that something was wrong. It filled Shikamaru with rage at the thought of Naruto’s son offending you, or worse, making you do something you did not want to. His mind quickly becomes dark with the idea of you being forced to perform any sexual acts without your consent. This is the exact reason he was so overbearing when raising you, he knew how easy it was to manipulate your little dumb mind.

“Princess..” Shikamaru said sternly, as he watched you pick at your dinner plate with a crestfallen face. You have not eaten a bite of the dinner he prepared for the both of you. You perked up at your papa’s voice, as if finally noticing the other presence at the dinner table. “Yes, papa?” you answered quietly, wide-doe eyes falling onto your father sitting across from you. Your reply brings a mental sigh of relief to him, at least you are finally talking. He knows you like the back of his hand and probably better than you know yourself.

“How did your date go with that Uzumaki kid?” he asked delicately, quizzical eyes watching for any facial expression. He could tell that you were holding back by the way you avoided his gaze and bit your lip nervously. “It went well, papa..”

He hummed at your response but was still unsatisfied with the answer. He wanted to know exactly what happened during your time out with that boy. He can obviously tell this was a subject you were not comfortable with, and normally he would have backed off to avoid your tears. Shimakaru had to press further to get to the bottom of why his princess was not smiling anymore. With a pointed look towards you Shimakaru patted his lap, a signal for you to take a seat on his thigh just like you always did so obediently. Getting up from your seat you sat your plush bottom onto your papa’s lap and looked up at him meekly, awaiting whatever lecture your daddy always gave you when it came to boys or things he deemed too “grown up” for you. Shikamaru wraps a strong arm around your waist and looks deep into your eyes,

“You can’t fool me, princess. Tell papa exactly what happened.” he said sternly. Shikamaru watched as you twiddled your thumbs together, avoiding his authoritative gaze. It was practically impossible to lie to your papa. Many years of trying have led to you learning that your papa is the smartest man in Konoha, nothing gets by him. However, he can feel that he is on the edge of discovery when he watches your chest heave with burgeoned submission. “It’s embarrassing, papa.” you admitted finally. Shikamaru was almost stunned, he had never known his daughter to hold anything back from him. You have always been open and honest to him, never shying away from your papa no matter what. It was unusual that you were holding back this time, especially after your date with that Uzumaki kid. It only reaffirms to the Shadow Nin that this needed to be addressed immediately.

“You know you can tell me anything, baby, right? We have no secrets.” Shikamaru reaffirms, heart thumping inside his chest at his promise. “You can always tell papa anything, no matter what it is.” His tone is soft and reassuring, instead of that indifferent one he uses around everyone else.

You sighed and nodded at Shikamaru’s words, feeling comforted by his promise of no judgment. With a deep breath you opened your mouth to tell your papa what was bothering you. Revealing in detail how Naruto’s son had brought you to a nice dinner date before things began to heat up quickly. His fingers found their way into her panties as he fingered her under the restaurant table. It was a feeling she never felt before, being stuffed with fingers inside her virgin cunny. However, she was upset because she did not feel any release at all. She creamed over his fingers but did not reach that orgasm awaiting over the edge. It was unsatisfying and left the poor girl feeling stressed out from not getting any release.

Shikamaru listened to every word of his daughter’s confession. It burned him inside that the Uzumaki kid made such a brazen move on his daughter, especially on the first date. The boy’s unskilled fingers inside his daughter made the older Nara’s frown deepen. Of course boys like him know nothing about pleasuring a woman. All they care about is getting their rocks off and leaving afterwards. However, that will just have to wait for another time as he thought about his poor little girl being sexually frustrated.

“Baby, why don’t you let your papa sort you out?” Shikamaru asked gently, as if approaching a small animal in a trap. He wanted to make sure it was completely your choice before even thinking about taking actions. Shikamaru was hesitant with his proposal, hoping that you would not scurry off from his sight at his perverse request. The very thought of you never looking at him again is enough to make the lazy man panic internally. It stunned you that your papa made such a proposition, isn’t it wrong to let daddies play with their little girls’ bodies? Yet, the more you pondered it, the idea just makes sense! No one has ever provided for you like your papa has, or ever will. It only makes sense to you that your papa should be the one to take your virginity.

Without any hesitation you nodded at your papa’s request, the very thought of him helping you with your first orgasm bringing a rush of excitement through your body. Shikamaru leaned back on the chair and laid you against his chest, spreading your thighs apart easily. Your short skirt doing nothing to hide those cute panties peeking out underneath.

“Show papa where it hurts, baby.”

Spreading your thighs over your papa’s lap, you pulled your frilly panties aside to finally show your weeping pussy, all wet and twitchy from the tension of what is to come. Shikamaru sucked in a breath at the sight of his daughter’s pussy, finally having the one thing he has longed for right in front of his eyes. His tongue peeked out and licked his dry lips at the very sight, cock already throbbing in his pants pushing against your plush bottom. He takes a finger and swipes it against your slit, testing the waters for your reactions. He is pleased to see how sensitive you are and how you practically jumped in his lap from just a simple touch. It just lets him know that you are such a good girl, probably never masturbated before or know how to play with your pretty pussy.

Shikamaru presses his fingers deeper into your slit, searching for that little button he is just dying to play with. When you gasp and shake in his lap he knows he found exactly what he was looking for. His thumb gently rubs slow circles on your clit, watching intently as your eyes cross at the foregn feeling. Even when Naruto’s son had his fingers buried in her pussy it did not feel nearly as good as her papa playing with her pretty pussy. A crooked smirk appeared on Shikamaru’s face, satisfied with his princess’ reaction to him playing with her virgin body. However, he had to hold himself back from going off the deep end just yet. This was after all your first time, and he wanted to make this as pleasurable as possible, like the good father he is.

“This is your clit, baby. When I rub it like this it feels really really good,” he enunciated while rubbing quick circles around your throbbing clit, accentuating each of his words with the finger actions. You thrashed around your papa’s lap at the sudden intense pleasure, borderline overwhelming from his skilled fingers. It felt so good yet something was building up inside that it made you panic at the feeling. You were a babbling mess as Shikamaru continued his exploration of your pussy, even dipping a single finger inside your virgin pussy, careful of your unbroken hymen. The feeling was too intense and you couldn’t get out any words, just grabbing onto your papa’s forearms to try and warn him of the building pressure. Without any warning you squirted all over Shikamaru’s lap, leaving a wet sticky mess all over his pants.

Shikamaru stared in awe at the mess you created, he has never seen anything more beautiful or sexy in his life. The very sight made his cock throb and ooze precum, desperate for any semblance of relief. He doesn’t recall ever feeling so turned on by any woman he has fucked before, even your own mother. Shikamaru waited until you calmed down from your first orgasm, kissing and sucking on your neck to help bring you down from the intense shock. He pulled his finger from your fluttering hole, coated it in your cream and brought it to his mouth to clean. His mouth practically drooling at the taste of your pussy. Just as he was about to let you off his lap, Shikamaru jerked at the feeling of your small hand pressing against his bulge.

“F-fuck princess! What are you doing?” he gritted through his teeth. It has been so long since anything besides his own hands has touched his cock, even through his pants. You looked up at your papa with those doe-eyes he has always been weak for, “I…I want to make you feel good too,” you can’t help but feel an intense blush come over your face from the confession. You wanted to thank your papa for the pleasure he brought you by returning the favor. Shikamaru was stunned at your words and cursed under his breath once again, since when did you know how to say sexy things like that? He was going to have to lecture you about that later, but right now he has more important matters at hand needing to be taken care of.

“You don’t have to do that, baby. This is only about you,” he replied, trying to take back some semblance of authority after committing such a lewd act with his own daughter. His mind was reeling from the lust he was feeling for you. He patted your butt as a signal for you to get off his lap, his bulge was becoming almost unbearable and needed to be attended once he was alone again. Just when he thought you were going back to your seat to finish eating dinner he watched as you suddenly dropped to your knees, small hands scrambling to lay on top of his thighs, just mere inches from his obvious bulge. “Please, papa… I want to know how to make you feel good,” you responded sultrily, just like the little minx you always were, you knew how to manipulate your daddy to get your way.

Shikamaru was at a crossroad; on one hand, this is the exact moment he has dreamed of. Yet on the other hand, he was your father and someone who vowed to protect you with his very life. However, when has Shikamaru ever been known as a righteous man? He was weak to the touch of an attractive woman, even if it was his own daughter. Not to mention he has never been able to say no to you, and probably could not start now. With a nod, he allows you to unzip his pants and pull his cock out, albeit clumsily. Shikamaru was a patient man, he allowed you to work at your own pace and watched closely as you stared at his aching cock, standing straight up begging for any attention. You looked at his cock bobbing up against his abdomen, it was so thick and huge. You just knew you had to have your papa’s cock inside you and be the one to take your virginity.

With words of encouragement from the Shadow Nin, you took your hand and delicately wrapped it around the base. Your small hand barely fits around the shaft all the way. It made your pussy drip at the feeling of your daddy’s throbbing, heavy cock in your grasp. Shikamaru could sense your hesitation and gently brought a hand behind your head, grasping your hair into a tight ponytail. “Just open your mouth, baby. Let papa fuck your pretty mouth, okay?” No sooner than after opening your mouth Shikamaru pushed the back of your head towards his awaiting cock, easily sliding the thick tip inside your small mouth. The older Nara had to hold himself back from completely fucking your throat raw, the feeling of being inside a wet warm mouth after so many years bringing a feral instinct to surface. However, being the good father he was, the older Nara allowed you to hold his cock in your mouth to get used to the feeling. He sat back in his chair and watched as you explored his cock with your tongue, getting used to the heft and taste. After a while of tasting his cock on your tongue you hummed onto his shaft, a signal that you were ready to continue.

Shikamaru smiled at your reassurance and pushed your head further down his shaft, centimeter by centimeter just to get you used to having something in your throat. He could feel your gag reflex slightly as he held your head tightly in place, just long enough for you to get used to the feeling of his large cock inside your tight throat. After what seemed like hours, Shikamaru was bringing your head up and down on his cock in a steady rhythm. The sound of gargling and drool coating all over his cock filling the room while he fucked your tiny throat. “Fuck baby… just like that. Let papa use your throat like the good girl he knows you are, okay?” he gasped out, jutting his hips in rhythm with fucking your mouth. Your gurgling and muffled moans were all you could reply as tears brimmed your eyes. Being used like this by your father should have been scary at least, but all you could feel was your thighs getting sticky from how much it turned you on. Meanwhile, Shikamaru was losing himself to the feeling of his daughter’s tight little throat.

“Baby, when I cum you have to swallow it all, okay? You should always swallow everything your papa gives you when he breeds your tiny little throat,” he gasped. Both hands were now holding your head tightly as the older Nara fucked into your throat as if it was the best pussy ever. He wanted you to swallow every drop of his cum and deposit it all into your belly. “Don’t let any boys do this to you, okay? Only papa’s should be doing this to their princess’,” Shikamara gritted out, making it clear that only he has the right to play with your body.

You hummed the best you could, with a cock lodged into your throat as a response. You could practically feel your papa’s cock throbbing, a signal of his approaching release. The very thought of your father letting you taste his cum was enough to make you feel light headed. With a few more rough thrusts into your mouth, Shikamaru held your head down at the very base of his cock with your nose buried into his pubic hair as his load shot straight down your throat. The load of cum went straight into your belly, making you feel slightly full and satisfied.

The older Nara held your head down until his cock grew completely soft, gently sliding out of your drool covered mouth. He gently brought you into his lap again as he wiped your mouth clean with his sleeve, whispering affirming words of love and praise into your ear. “You’re such a good girl for your papa. I love you so much, Princess,” Shikamaru whispered. Drowsiness was easily coming over you as you made yourself comfortable in the crook of your papa’s neck. The Shadow Nin looked at the untouched dinner and sighed at the mess he will have to clean up. However, he will just have to focus on that later because he has more important things to attend to. As he wraps an arm under your legs and waist to carry you to your awaiting bed, he can’t help but think about teaching his princess how to accept cock in her virgin pussy next time.

[amethystarachnid]

BEACON OF LOVE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k (my longest one yet)

ᯓ★ TW(s): there's so much fluff in this that it deserves a warning, a lot of PDA

ᯓ★ Timeline: right after 'The Avengers'

ᯓ★ Request: I would like to request "brother's best friend" with Tony. Reader is Bruce's sister, when she visits him at Stark Tower reader and Tony fall in love immediately, he asks her out on a date, and they live their happily ever after 💖 ( @heygoodgirly)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You step into Stark Tower, the high-tech doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, revealing the sleek, modern interior. It’s your first time visiting Bruce here, and although you’ve been to labs and research centers your whole life, this place feels… different. It’s buzzing with an energy that’s almost alive, a sense of invention, chaos, and genius wrapped together in steel and glass.

Bruce greets you at the entrance with that warm, shy smile you’ve known all your life. He wraps you in a hug, a bit more tightly than usual. You can feel the tension in his shoulders, as if he’s not fully relaxed even now.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he says softly, but you see the gratitude in his eyes. “It’s not exactly the safest place.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a look. “I think I can handle a bunch of scientists, Bruce. Besides, I wanted to see your new lab. Heard a lot about it.” You grin mischievously, “Plus, someone has to make sure you’re eating more than just coffee and anxiety.”

Bruce laughs, a rare sound, but it’s short-lived as his eyes dart to the side, toward the glass elevator in the corner. You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see him.

Tony Stark.

He’s standing there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing an expensive-looking suit that screams "I know I’m good-looking." His eyes, hidden behind those signature shades, are locked onto you as if he’s already figured out who you are—or at least is very interested in finding out.

“Banner didn’t mention he had a sister,” Tony says, pushing himself off the wall with a smooth motion and walking toward you. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes off his sunglasses, revealing those sharp brown eyes that have probably charmed half the world.

Bruce tenses beside you, and you can practically hear his internal groan. “Tony…” Bruce warns, stepping slightly in front of you as if that’s going to stop the man known for his lack of boundaries.

“Relax, Big Guy,” Tony replies with a smirk, eyes flicking from Bruce to you. “I’m just being friendly. You must be the famous Dr. Banner’s sister. I can see the resemblance—brains and beauty. A rare combination.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You must be Tony Stark. I’ve heard about you. A lot.”

Bruce shoots you a look as if to say don’t encourage him, but you ignore it. Tony grins wider, and suddenly, you understand why people say he’s hard to resist. There’s an effortless charm about him that feels like it could pull you into his orbit without even trying.

“All good things, I hope,” Tony quips, stepping a little closer. He looks at you, his gaze more intense now, as if he’s trying to figure you out, and you feel a spark, something electric between the two of you.

Bruce, sensing the shift, clears his throat and steps firmly between the two of you. “Tony, she’s just visiting. Don’t… start.”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Who, me? Start what? I’m just being a gracious host. Isn’t that right, uh…” He pauses, clearly fishing for your name.

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Y/N.”

Tony smiles, repeating your name as if testing how it feels. “Y/N. Lovely name. So, Y/N, how do you feel about guided tours? I happen to know a guy who gives the best ones around here.”

Bruce groans. “She’s not here for a tour. She’s here to see me.”

Tony shoots Bruce a sidelong glance, pretending to look hurt. “Oh, come on, don’t be so overprotective. She’s a grown woman. She can decide who she wants to spend time with.”

You raise an eyebrow, finding the banter between the two amusing. “You two bicker like an old married couple,” you comment, laughing softly.

Bruce shoots you a look that says, not helping, while Tony laughs, clearly delighted. “See? She’s got a sense of humor. I like her already.” He gives you another one of those smiles that could probably melt steel.

Bruce sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Y/N, seriously, he’s… trouble.”

You grin, stepping closer to your brother and nudging him with your elbow. “Relax, Bruce. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Before Bruce can protest further, Tony steps in with a dramatic flair. “How about this, we have dinner. You, me, Banner over here, though he might just sulk in the corner, what do you say?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can tell Tony’s not exactly asking as a casual invitation. There’s something more there, something sparking between the two of you that’s undeniable. You glance at Bruce, who looks ready to protest again, but before he can say anything, you smile and look back at Tony.

“I’d like that.”

Bruce stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him, but Tony’s smile turns into something a little softer, something real beneath the playful mask. “Great. How’s tonight?”

Later that evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your temporary room at Stark Tower, second-guessing your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s simple but elegant—a sleek black dress that’s casual enough for dinner but makes you feel confident. You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. You’ve been on dates before, but this is Tony Stark, and there’s something about him that has you on edge, in a good way.

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you open it to find Bruce standing there, arms crossed, looking as anxious as you feel.

“You’re really doing this?” he asks, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and disbelief.

You shrug, trying to play it off, though your heart is racing. “It’s just dinner, Bruce.”

“With Tony?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, his expression all too knowing. “He’s not exactly… subtle. And he doesn’t just ‘do’ dinner.”

You roll your eyes, stepping past him into the hallway. “I’m a grown woman, remember? You don’t have to worry.”

Bruce follows you, lowering his voice as you both head toward the elevator. “I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about him.” He presses the elevator button a little too hard. “Tony’s got a reputation. You know that.”

You stop, turning to face him, your expression softening. “Bruce, I appreciate you looking out for me, really. But I know what I’m doing. I’m not some starry-eyed girl.”

Bruce sighs, clearly unconvinced but unable to argue. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his arm. “I’ll be fine. And besides, it’s just one dinner. If it goes badly, I can always punch him in the face.”

Bruce chuckles at that, though you can see he’s still tense. “Just… be careful, okay? He’s charming, but he’s not always as easy to handle as he seems.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a soft ding, and there’s Tony, leaning against the wall inside like he’s in some kind of movie. His suit is gone, replaced by dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket—still effortlessly stylish but much more relaxed. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he gives a low whistle, clearly impressed.

“Well, don’t you look stunning,” he says, that smooth, playful tone back in full force.

Bruce glares at him immediately. “Tony—”

“Relax, Banner,” Tony cuts him off, straightening and stepping out of the elevator to offer you his arm. “I promise to have her back in one piece. Maybe two, if we get into any trouble, but that’s half the fun, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you loop your arm through Tony’s, ignoring the death glare Bruce is sending his way. “I’ll text you if I need backup,” you say over your shoulder to Bruce, who mutters something about regretting this decision.

As you and Tony step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel the electric charge between you again, stronger this time. The doors close, and for a moment, there’s a silence that feels almost intimate. Tony glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

The restaurant Tony chooses is, of course, one of the most exclusive in the city. It’s the kind of place with mood lighting, impossibly polite waitstaff, and a menu without prices. As you both walk in, it’s clear everyone knows exactly who Tony is, and they give you both a wide berth as you’re led to a private table in the back.

The moment you sit down, Tony leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he studies you with that same intensity from earlier. “So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. What’s it like growing up with Banner as a brother? I imagine it’s all science fairs and controlled explosions?”

You chuckle, relaxing a little as you lean forward. “It’s a lot of science, yeah. And explosions. But Bruce is… different now. He used to be more carefree, even a little reckless, before everything happened with the Hulk.”

Tony’s expression softens, a flicker of something more serious passing through his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen how much he carries around with him. He doesn’t talk about it, but… I get it. The weight of it.”

You nod, surprised by the empathy in Tony’s voice. “He’s still my big brother, though. He’s always been protective, even when I didn’t need it.”

Tony smirks, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah, I noticed that. He looked like he wanted to murder me earlier.”

You grin. “That’s his default mode when it comes to guys showing any interest in me.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “So you’re saying there’s interest?”

You give him a playful look. “I think it’s obvious, don’t you?”

He laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle.”

The banter between you flows easily, and as the evening goes on, you find yourself more and more drawn to him. Despite his reputation, Tony is surprisingly attentive, his jokes never crossing the line into arrogance, and the way he looks at you—it’s like you’re the only person in the room.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re leaning in close, the conversation growing quieter, more intimate. There’s a pause, the kind where you know something is about to shift.

“So,” Tony says, his voice soft but teasing, “what do you think Bruce is doing right now? Pacin’ around the lab, making some kind of anti-Stark protocol?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Probably. You’re lucky he didn’t plant a tracking device on me.”

Tony grins. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But don’t worry, I’d still find a way to steal you away.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, everything else fades. It’s just you and him, the electricity sparking again. You can feel it, the inevitable pull, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel the need to resist it.

The night goes on, and by the time Tony walks you back to Stark Tower, there’s no denying the connection between you. As you stand outside your door, Tony hesitates for a moment, then flashes you that signature smile.

“So, when’s round two?”

You smile back, heart racing. “Soon.”

And with that, he leans in, just close enough that you feel the heat of him, before he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly, before turning and walking down the hall, leaving you with a smile you can’t quite wipe off your face.

Days pass, and you find yourself seeing Tony more often than you expected. It’s not like you’re seeking him out—he just happens to pop up every time you visit Bruce’s lab, or when you’re wandering Stark Tower. And each time, you can’t help but feel the magnetic pull between you growing stronger.

After a few more flirtatious encounters and subtle touches, Tony finally convinces you to go out on a proper date. You’re not sure what to expect—especially considering how not subtle he is—but Tony surprises you by choosing something… quiet.

The date begins with Tony picking you up in one of his sleek cars, of course. He’s dressed down again, but still looks effortlessly good in dark jeans and a leather jacket, while you opted for something comfortable but cute—a simple dress with a jacket that flutters in the wind as you step out.

“You ready?” he asks, opening the door for you. You nod, stepping in and giving him a curious look.

“Where exactly are we going this time?”

Tony smirks, but there’s a softness to it. “I figured we could skip the fancy restaurant scene tonight. I’ve got something a little more… low-key in mind.”

Low-key? From Tony Stark? You’re intrigued.

He drives you out of the city, and you find yourself staring at the skyline as it slowly fades into the distance. Before long, you arrive at a secluded spot overlooking the water, the city lights shimmering in the distance. Tony pulls up to a small, private dock where a sleek boat is waiting.

You raise an eyebrow. “This is your idea of low-key?”

Tony grins, holding out his hand to help you onto the boat. “I never said I wasn’t going to impress you.”

The boat glides smoothly across the water, the sound of the waves creating a peaceful backdrop. The night is clear, stars twinkling above, and the city skyline looks like a sea of jewels in the distance. Tony has arranged for a picnic—laid out perfectly on the boat’s deck, complete with a bottle of wine and an array of food that’s surprisingly simple but delicious.

As you sit together, talking and laughing, you realize how easy it is to be with him. There’s no awkwardness, no pressure. Just the two of you, sharing stories about your pasts, your work, and even your hopes for the future. Tony opens up more than you expected, letting his usual sarcasm and wit drop in moments to reveal the man behind the genius.

“So,” he says after a long silence, his voice soft but with that signature playful edge, “do you think Bruce would kill me if I kissed you right now?”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you, your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve been waiting for this moment, the tension between you having built up over the last few days. Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you.

“I think Bruce will get over it,” you whisper, just before your lips meet his.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, and everything you didn’t know you were waiting for. There’s something about it—something that feels real, like the start of something more. Tony’s hands gently cup your face, his touch soft but confident, and you can feel the heat of his skin as he pulls you closer.

When you finally pull away, breathless, Tony’s lips curve into a smile. “Okay, well, now I’m officially dead when we tell him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You might be, but at least you’ll go out with a bang.”

A week later, you and Tony decide it’s time to break the news to Bruce. You’ve kept it quiet long enough, and besides, Tony is itching to “gloat,” as he puts it, in front of Bruce. You, on the other hand, are more concerned about Bruce’s reaction—because no matter how old you are, telling your big brother that you’re dating Tony Stark feels like walking into a minefield.

The three of you are in the lab—well, technically, you and Bruce are going over some research notes, while Tony is just hanging around, making sarcastic comments and tinkering with some new tech he’s building. The tension between you and Tony has been pretty noticeable, though, and you know Bruce isn’t an idiot. He’s probably already suspicious.

Finally, Tony clears his throat dramatically, stepping between you and Bruce. “Banner, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Bruce looks up from his computer, pushing his glasses up on his nose, already frowning. “What did you do now?”

Tony grins. “Oh, it’s not what I did. It’s more about what we—” he gestures between you and himself—“are doing. Together.”

Bruce freezes, blinking in confusion as he looks between you and Tony. “Together? Like… working on a project?”

Tony tilts his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “Well, you could say that. More like a long-term, hands-on collaboration. You know, with kissing.”

You shoot Tony a look, and he just shrugs, clearly enjoying himself.

Bruce’s eyes widen as he processes this, and then his gaze locks onto you, completely baffled. “Wait. Are you saying… you and Tony…?” His voice is rising, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

You bite your lip, stepping forward. “Bruce, I know this is probably a shock, but—”

“A shock?” Bruce cuts in, standing up from his chair, his voice going an octave higher. “You’re dating Tony Stark? My Tony Stark? The same guy who blew up half a city block because he was ‘experimenting with mini rockets’?”

Tony looks offended. “Okay, first of all, it was only a quarter of a block, and it was mostly contained. Second, this is about us, Bruce, not my tech adventures.”

Bruce looks between the two of you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tries to form words. Finally, he throws his hands up in the air, pacing back and forth. “I can’t believe this. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you start dating the most reckless genius on the planet!”

Tony folds his arms, looking proud. “Reckless? Genius? You flatter me, Banner.”

Bruce turns to you, shaking his head. “Are you sure about this? I mean, this is Tony. He’s—”

You step forward, putting a hand on your brother’s arm. “I’m sure, Bruce. Tony makes me happy. And believe me, I know what I’m getting into.”

Bruce groans, covering his face with his hand. “I need to sit down. Or maybe lie down.”

Tony claps Bruce on the back, grinning. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll take good care of her. Besides, I’m not that bad. You could’ve ended up with someone way worse, like—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed look.

Bruce sinks into his chair, staring at the ceiling like he’s having an existential crisis. “I just… I can’t believe this. I thought it was bad when you started hanging out with him. Now you’re dating him?”

Tony shrugs, looking smug. “Love works in mysterious ways, Banner. Even for geniuses like us.”

Bruce groans louder, shaking his head. “This is a nightmare. I need a lab break. Or maybe a tranquilizer.”

You and Tony exchange amused glances as Bruce continues to mutter to himself, clearly still processing the news. Finally, Tony leans in, whispering in your ear, “Well, that went better than expected. I’d say we’re off to a great start.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch Bruce pace the lab, still muttering about “impending disasters” and “Tony Stark of all people.” Maybe Bruce will need a little more time to come around, but deep down, you know he’ll accept it—eventually.

Dating Tony Stark comes with a lot of perks. Stark Tower itself is like a futuristic playground—fully automated, filled with high-tech gadgets, and with the best view of the New York skyline. It’s also full of surprises, many of which involve Tony pushing the boundaries of propriety. Especially when it comes to public displays of affection. And especially when Bruce is within a ten-foot radius.

Since you and Tony officially got together, life at Stark Tower has been anything but boring. Mornings usually involve you trying to grab breakfast in peace while Tony insists on inventing new ways to make coffee (most of which end in small explosions). Afternoons might be spent in his lab—where you’re technically helping him, though he tends to get distracted by the fact that you’re there, which leads to less science and more stolen kisses.

And then there’s Bruce, poor Bruce, who is constantly trying to ignore the fact that his best friend is now dating his sister. Tony, of course, makes it his personal mission to remind him at every possible opportunity.

One afternoon, you’re in the lab with Bruce, going over some research notes. The air is filled with the quiet hum of machinery, and you’re both deep in concentration. At least, until the door swings open and Tony strolls in, whistling as if he owns the place (which, to be fair, he does).

“Hey, Banner! How’s my favorite big green guy today?” Tony calls out, already making a beeline for you.

Bruce looks up from his computer with a wary expression. “Tony, please. Not now. We’re working.”

Tony waves him off as if this is a minor inconvenience. “Yeah, yeah, science and all that.” He slides right up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Hey, gorgeous. How’s your day going?”

You smile, shaking your head but leaning back into him. “It was peaceful. Until now.”

Bruce lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly trying to focus on his screen. “Seriously, Tony. Do you have to do that? Here?”

Tony grins, clearly enjoying how easily he gets under Bruce’s skin. “What, this?” He leans down further and plants a dramatic kiss on your cheek, making a point to linger there.

You laugh, nudging him gently. “Tony…”

Bruce groans, rubbing his temples like he’s developing a stress headache. “Do you really have to kiss her in front of me? Can’t you just—wait until I’m not around?”

Tony straightens up, looking completely innocent. “Oh, come on, Banner. We’re in a relationship. It’s perfectly normal. Besides, we could be doing much worse things in front of you.”

“Tony!” You elbow him in the side, though you can’t help but laugh at the horrified look on Bruce’s face.

Bruce looks like he’s about to keel over. “I’m begging you. No details.”

Tony leans in again, this time whispering just loud enough for Bruce to hear, “Don’t worry. I’ll spare you the juicy stuff.”

Bruce groans louder, closing his laptop with a snap and standing up. “You two are impossible. I’m going to the roof. At least the air up there is free of… whatever this is.”

As Bruce marches toward the door, Tony throws his arm around your shoulders, looking as smug as ever. “Come on, Bruce! You’ve got to get used to it eventually. I mean, what’s a little affection between friends? And family. And soulmates.” He winks at you, and you shake your head, laughing at his antics.

Bruce doesn’t even turn around, just waves a hand dismissively as he walks out. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Enjoy your soulmate time.”

The door slides shut behind him, leaving you and Tony alone in the lab. Tony turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I think he’s starting to come around. He only looks half as horrified as he did last week.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged.” Tony leans in and kisses you again, this time properly—slow, warm, and completely distracting.

You pull back just enough to speak. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? Making him squirm?”

Tony grins, brushing his nose against yours. “It’s one of life’s simple pleasures. Right up there with inventing new things and kissing you.”

Of course, this isn’t the only time Tony manages to fluster Bruce. Over the next few weeks, he finds increasingly creative ways to engage in PDA whenever Bruce is nearby. Like the time Bruce is trying to explain gamma radiation theory, and Tony, who claims he’s listening, suddenly pulls you into his lap in the middle of the lab.

“Tony, what are you doing?” you hiss, laughing despite yourself as he casually wraps an arm around your waist.

“What? I’m just getting comfortable,” Tony says innocently. “Keep going, Bruce. This is fascinating.”

Bruce stares at him, completely bewildered. “You’re not listening. You’re… distracting her.”

“I’m a multitasker,” Tony quips, giving you a wink. “I can listen and hold my girlfriend at the same time. It’s a gift.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air, clearly at his limit. “I’m done. You two deserve each other.” He grabs his tablet and stalks out of the room, muttering under his breath about “public decency.”

Tony chuckles, watching Bruce leave, then turns back to you. “What do you think? Too much?”

You shake your head, laughing. “He’s going to have a meltdown at some point, and it’s going to be entirely your fault.”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair and pulling you closer. “Eh, he’ll get over it. Eventually. Probably. Besides, it’s good for him. Builds character.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. Life with Tony may be chaotic, but it’s never dull. And there’s something oddly comforting about the way he teases Bruce—it’s like the three of you are caught up in this weird little family dynamic, where you’re the calm center and Tony and Bruce are constantly bickering, but in a way that somehow works.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch in the common area, curled up with Tony, watching a movie. Bruce walks in, clearly intending to grab something from the kitchen, but the moment he sees you both snuggled up, he pauses in the doorway like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Tony, ever the opportunist, notices immediately. “Hey, Bruce! Wanna join us?” He pats the space next to him on the couch. “There’s plenty of room.”

Bruce stares at him, deadpan. “I’m not sitting next to you while you’re doing… that.”

You blink, glancing between them. “Doing what? We’re just watching a movie.”

Bruce narrows his eyes, pointing at you two. “You’re snuggling. It’s unnatural.”

Tony grins. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly natural for two people in love to cuddle on the couch. Don’t be so repressed, Banner. You’re going to make yourself even grayer.”

Bruce sighs, looking exhausted just by the sight of you both. “You know what? I’ll just—” He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, like he’s going to hide in there for a while.

Tony watches Bruce retreat to the kitchen with the kind of smug satisfaction that only comes from knowing you’ve successfully pushed your best friend’s buttons. He leans back into the couch, pulling you closer as the movie continues to play in the background.

“You think we should go easy on him?” you ask, glancing toward the kitchen where Bruce is clearly pretending to be busy with something, probably plotting ways to avoid you and Tony for the foreseeable future.

Tony shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Go easy? Nah. He needs this. It’s good for him. Keeps him on his toes.”

You chuckle, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re going to give him an ulcer one of these days, you know that, right?”

Tony grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Eh, it’s character-building. Besides, deep down, he loves us. He’ll come around. Eventually.”

Just then, Bruce reemerges from the kitchen, holding a bottle of water and clearly trying to act like he’s not noticing you two wrapped up in each other. You swear you see him wince when Tony casually starts tracing circles on your arm with his fingers.

Bruce takes a long, exaggerated sip from the bottle, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You guys, uh… planning on going to bed soon?” His tone is hopeful, like maybe you’ll take the hint and give him some peace.

Tony looks at him, perfectly deadpan. “Oh, we’re definitely going to bed. Just… probably not to sleep. You know how it is, Banner.”

Your jaw drops, and you elbow Tony sharply in the ribs, stifling your laughter as Bruce’s face goes through several stages of sheer horror.

“Tony!” you whisper-shout, trying to keep it together.

Bruce lets out a strangled groan, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my God. No. No, no, no. I did not need to hear that.” He points at Tony with a glare. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Tony tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re just being affectionate. Perfectly normal, right, sweetheart?” He gives you a sly smile, completely enjoying this little game.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you turn to Bruce. “We’re just teasing. You know that.”

Bruce glares at Tony, who’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the whole situation far too much. “You know what? I’m just going to go up to the lab. Where there’s no… whatever this is.”

“You sure?” Tony asks, stretching out lazily on the couch. “You could hang with us. Watch a rom-com, talk about feelings, maybe even join in for a group hug—”

“NO.” Bruce cuts him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Just… no. I’m going upstairs. Goodnight.”

With that, Bruce practically bolts for the stairs, his water bottle clutched in a death grip as he escapes the scene, muttering something about “emotional trauma.”

Once Bruce is safely out of earshot, you burst out laughing, burying your face in Tony’s chest. “You’re terrible.”

Tony just grins, looking completely unbothered. “I know. But admit it—you love me this way.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “I do. Even if you’re a menace.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and when you pull back, you catch that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes again. “What do you say we make Bruce’s nightmares come true and really give him something to complain about tomorrow?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tempting. But I think we’ve tortured him enough for one day.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine. For now. But I reserve the right to increase the PDA by 20% the next time he annoys me.”

“Deal,” you say, grinning as you snuggle closer to him on the couch.

The next morning, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on coffee and flipping through a magazine, when Bruce walks in looking surprisingly calm. He glances at you, then at the empty chair where Tony usually sits, clearly expecting another ambush.

“Where’s Stark?” Bruce asks, sounding both cautious and curious.

You smirk. “Still sleeping. He stayed up late tinkering with some new invention.”

Bruce visibly relaxes, sitting down across from you. “Good. Maybe I’ll get a few hours of peace today.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be innocent. “I don’t know, Bruce. Tony might have something special planned for you today. Maybe a surprise PDA session in the lab.”

Bruce groans, rubbing his temples. “Please. I’ve been through enough. I’m getting second-hand trauma from all the smooching.”

Just then, Tony enters the kitchen, hair messy from sleep and wearing his usual loungewear, looking completely unbothered. He walks over to you and, without saying a word, plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Morning, gorgeous.”

You smile, greeting him back, while Bruce groans audibly from across the table.

“Seriously?” Bruce mutters, rolling his eyes. “It’s not even 9 a.m. and you two are already at it?”

Tony glances at Bruce, completely straight-faced. “What? A little kiss in the morning? It’s called affection, Bruce. Maybe you should try it sometime. I hear it’s great for stress reduction. You’d stop Hulking out so much.”

Bruce sighs, clearly fighting the urge to respond with anything more than an eye roll, but you can see his fingers twitching like he’s thinking about throwing his coffee mug at Tony. He takes a deep breath instead, rubbing his temples. “Tony, I know what affection is. I just don’t need to witness it at every possible moment, especially in my own kitchen.”

Tony grins, as if this was exactly the reaction he wanted. He leans down, dramatically kissing you on the cheek before turning back to Bruce. “Come on, buddy, it’s not like we’re—”

“STOP.” Bruce holds up a hand, eyes closed, clearly trying to block out whatever is about to come out of Tony’s mouth. “Just… don’t say it. I don’t need any mental images. I’m trying to not need therapy.”

You laugh into your coffee, biting your lip as you try to rein in the amusement bubbling up inside you. Tony, however, is in full-on playful mode now. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and grinning at Bruce like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“All I’m saying,” Tony continues, unfazed by Bruce’s growing horror, “is that you shouldn’t knock PDA until you’ve tried it. It’s very healthy, emotionally and physically. We’re setting an example for the tower. A beacon of love.”

Bruce snorts, looking at Tony like he’s lost his mind. “A beacon of something, sure.”

Tony shrugs, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter and taking a bite. “We’re adorable, and you’re just jealous.”

Bruce glares at him over his mug. “Jealous? Of what? Watching you two practically make out every time I turn around? Pass.”

You lean over, nudging Tony in the side with a grin. “I think he’s just upset because he can’t escape us. Maybe we should tone it down. Give him a break.”

Tony glances down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Tone it down? You mean, stop being ourselves? I can’t do that. It’s against my code.”

You roll your eyes, smiling as you sip your coffee. “Of course it is.”

Bruce, now finished with his coffee, stands up, clearly ready to flee the kitchen. “For the record, I’m happy for you two. Really. Just… try to keep the beacon of love at a safe distance from my workspace.”

Tony watches him head toward the door, then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, we’re definitely kissing in front of him in the lab later.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You really have a death wish, don’t you?”

Tony grins, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower and more deliberate. “Totally worth it.”

Later that day, as you predicted, Tony finds the perfect opportunity to annoy Bruce once more. You’re both in the lab—well, you’re working, and Tony’s pretending to work while glancing at you every five minutes. Bruce is furiously typing away at his computer, clearly trying to stay in the zone and ignore whatever Tony might be planning.

As if on cue, Tony sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chin to your shoulder. “Hey,” he whispers, loud enough for Bruce to hear, “I think it’s time for a break.”

You glance over at Bruce, who is visibly tensing, fingers pausing over his keyboard as he waits for whatever Tony’s about to do. “Tony…” you warn softly, though you’re already fighting a smile.

But Tony’s already leaning in, brushing a kiss to your temple, then down to your cheek. “Come on, we’ve been working hard. We deserve a little… affection.”

Bruce makes a strangled noise, pushing away from his computer. “Please. Please don’t do this.”

Tony grins against your skin. “What? Just showing some love in the lab. Totally professional.”

Bruce stands up, throwing his hands in the air. “You know what? Fine. Make out. Hug. Whatever. I’ll just be somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away.”

Tony watches him walk to the door, calling out after him, “We’ll miss you, Banner! Try not to get too lonely!”

Bruce doesn’t even turn around, just waves a hand over his shoulder as he storms out. You watch him disappear, laughing as you turn to Tony, who is looking entirely too proud of himself.

“You know, one day, Bruce might actually snap. And it’s going to be your fault,” you tease, shaking your head.

Tony pulls you closer, his arms snug around your waist. “Nah, he loves me. Deep down. Very, very deep down.”

You roll your eyes but smile up at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grins, leaning in for another kiss, and as his lips brush against yours, you can’t help but think that life with Tony — chaos and all — is pretty perfect.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Not strong enough (Rowan's Version)—

reader x usntdp u18 2018-19 team

Based on the song "Not Strong Enough" by Boy Genius

Warnings: Sexism & Men (they deserve the tw)

Ro's 1000 follower celly

Au Masterlist!!

"Black hole opened in the kitchen, every clock's a different time. It would only take the energy to fix it, I don't know why I am"

“She’s the glue,” Jack grinned and looked over to Cole who smiled back at him, “every team has that person who keeps the group together, and for us, she’s that person.” “She’s our everything really” Trevor interjected as the interviewer nodded her head.

The woman wore a red blazer, in her hands were a few cue cards, messy handwriting full of questions covered the tiny pieces of paper as she grinned at the boys sitting on the couch in front of her.

“How about her game? Explain it to me,” she smiled as Alex sat up. “She’s electric, elegant almost with how agile she is,” the other boys nodded, “her IQ is above all, and her playmaking is so effortless.”

“We wouldn’t be half the team without her,” Cole added. “These accomplishments are because of her, none of these records or wins would’ve happened if she wasn’t in that locker room,” Jack finishes off the interview with a grin as the camera shuts off and the industrial lighting goes out.

“That was an amazing boys, thank you,” the cameraman and director said as he shooed the boys out of the room.

★★

"The way I am, not strong enough to be your man, I try, I can't stop staring at the ceiling fan and, spinning out about things that haven't happened. Breathing in and out"

Y/n watched her interview with tears, a huff leaving her lips as she stared at the ceiling in defeat. “What about the boys? You find them cute?” The woman in the red blazer said with a chuckle.

The cue cards of in-depth questions were nowhere to be seen as the teenage girl sat on the couch in her Team USA jersey. Embarrassment filled her face as she looked behind the camera to see the direct, wondering how on earth this question was even real.

“These boys are like my brothers,” she smiled, tone a little peeved as she stared at her hands, “they are my team, the ones I go to battle for.” A semi smile worked its way into her face as she thought back to the past years with the boys, and how life-changing this team has been for her and for her game, “on the ice we are dynamic, and off the ice, they are my best friends,” she answered honestly

That’s about as far as she could make it into the video before having to turn it off.

The boys received such beautiful questions and were given the opportunity to share such meaningful words. While on the other hand, she was painted out to be some narrative

It was total bullshit.

★★

"Drag racing through the canyon, singing "Boys Don't Cry" Do you see us getting scraped up off the pavement? I don't know why I am"

“Give ‘em hell my girl,” was always Ellen’s words to the teen before she stepped on any ice, whether it be a game or a practice. It held such a strong sentiment, and Ellen was such a strong role model in her life.

They were also the first words said to her the moment she got the call inviting her out to the draft combine in Buffalo, her billet mother pulling her into her arms hug as she cried into Ellen’s arms “I’m so proud of you y/n,” she whispered as the tears subsided with the entrance of the boys who had been waiting for this moment.

“Are those good tears or bad tears?” Alex asked as y/n wiped them away. “Good ones,” she croaked as both Jack and Alex lunged at her.

Not only was this the biggest moment of her life, but this was also one of the biggest moments in female hockey history. The first-ever teenage girl prospect in an all-male league, it was overwhelming, but it was the first step in the direction of change.

★★

"The way I am, not strong enough to be your man, I lie, I am just lowering your expectations. Half a mind that keeps the other second-guessing, close my eyes and count"

“A female prospect?” The interviewer mumbled as he looked through his list of draftees. “It’s progressive,” another man with a clipboard mumbled with a shrug as he sipped his coffee.

“It’s unorthodox,” another person mumbled as one of the interns left to go and fetch the girl from the next room over, “politics and sports don’t coexist,” he added causing a few chuckles around the table.

The only female interviewer tapped her pen on the wooden table, her brows raised and her anger levels starting to rise as she looked at all of the men in the room. “You are making decisions for a billion-dollar company, every single decision and movement you make is due to the outcome of the political climate,” she said hastily before the door opened and all of the people in the room stood to greet the young prospect

The older woman’s hand was the first one out for the young girl to shake as she greeted her with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “Please take a seat, we’re so glad to get the chance to sit down with you!”

★★

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

Draft day had to of been the most stressful day ever, the NHL reached out a few weeks prior hoping to include her in their “Welcome to NHL” mini-documentary about her experience on the draft day.

Her hand shook as she stared at herself in the mirror, a small smile on her lips as she looked towards the camera. “Ready to make history?” She mumbled as she looked back at herself she fixed her lavender suit jacket.

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

Jack pulled her in for a hug as she got down to the bus, his hand cradling the back of her head as he held her tightly, “I can’t believe this is real,” he mumbled as she pulled away with a proud smile.

The second her heels hit that red carpet she was immediately anxious, she spun the gold ring on her thumb as Quinn and her older brother each patted her on the shoulder and sought out to find their designated entrance as she went through the carpet and the media.

“This colour is beautiful,” the interviewer said as she took in the bold outfit. “The man who designed the suit was very adamant that it was my colour,” she mumbled as she unbuttoned the loose-fitting Jacket.

The interviewer grinned, “As most draftees do, are there any little things about this suit that make it personal?” The girl opened her blazer to showcase a listen of names written in a deep shade of violet on the inside of her suit lining, “these are all of the women in my life who have pushed and haven’t received the recognition that they deserve,” her fingers ran over the writing as she smiled.

“These are the women and the role models who have fought for me to be in this place today, and have given me this opportunity to make history,” she nodded and unveiled the other side. A tiny embroidered quote that said “give ‘em hell,” was sewn into the other side, little flowers decorating the message as the interviewer grinned.

“And this is an ode to the woman who went above and beyond, and fought for me to be in this position,” she smiled as the interviewer wished her luck and sent her on her way

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

“Hold my hand,” she whispered to her dad, the man pulling the cell phone out of her hand to get her off Twitter for a moment, “people hate me,” she frowned as she looked at her father who shook her head. “People are afraid of change, you are strong you have worked harder than any of the boys in this room,” he whispered as her eyes filled with tears, nodding slowly as she leaned her head against his shoulder, “you are so worthy of greatness, and it'll come when the time is right,” he finished as her attention turned to Gary Bettman who was beginning to walk across the stage.

The boos began, and so did the anxiety.

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

One by one her teammates were picked off, proud smiles on her face as they each stopped by her to thank her for everything.

She sent each one of them off with a hug and some choked-up words as they made their way to the stage to live out their dreams. And one by one her dream slowly crumbled, like a glass castle that had been shattered, as the Blues picked their final pick on the second day in the seventh round Y/n felt the emotion rip through her. But instead of cracking, she held her head high and walked out of the arena with the entirety of her family behind her.

The second she was away from the cameras and the fresh air hit her lungs she began to crack.

A sob ripped through her as she sat on the curb, her hands pulling at the roots of her hair, “I was supposed to- I was supposed to make a difference,” she cried as a hand ran over her back. “I'm sorry sweet girl,” Ellen's soft voice sounded as the tears kept coming.

“I worked so much harder than the boys, I trained my ass off, I sat through the sexist interviews, but none of it will ever be enough,” the cries grew louder and louder as she leaned against the woman. “I did everything I could, and I will never meet my dreams,” she said defeated as Ellen held her tightly.

“I know baby, it's unfair, you deserve it just as much as the boys” she whispered, tears staring in her own eyes as she watched the girl who had been a daughter to her shake with a look of distraught on her face.

The girl wiped the underneath of her eyes, her fist finally unclenching as she sniffled, “I will never be enough,” she whispered and looked up to see the photographer taking a photo from across the street too which she just shook her head and sighed.

★★

"I don't know why I am the way I am, there's something in the static, I think I've been having revelations. Comin' to, in the front seat, nearly empty skip the exit to our old street and go home"

The draft had come and gone, and the boys each headed off to the new destinations in their lives. She ended up in Minnesota, as a freshman on the women's hockey team. Division one college hockey had always been on her list of things she wanted to experience, and it was everything she imagined.

It was slow, life slowed right down when she stopped putting that pressure on herself to always be the very best. The girls were sweet, but they knew what she had gone through during the summer, some a little envious, some a little sorrowful to know the struggles that she'd endured in the pursuit of her possible professional career.

The boys called often, to tell her about the little things, shared what their lives now entitled, whether it be in the league, or in university, wanting their favourite girl to know that they were always thinking of her.

Jack was a constant call in her life, a rookie who now carried the burden of being one of the potential greats. "It's really not all as great as they paint it out to be," he mumbled tiredly. It kind of felt like a stab in the heart sometimes, for him to be so ignorant to the pressure she had been other previously and then tell her that maybe she was lucky she would never get to experience the so-called 'torture' he was experiencing.

"Jack, do you know how badly I would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be worthy enough to prove myself to an entire league," she scoffed as the tears started, "do you know how much I wanted that, do you know how much I pushed myself to make it to that draft and then to be turned away after all of that work?" "I know," he sighed. "I don't think you do, 'cause at the end of the day you're calling me to complain about an amazing opportunity," she huffed as she heard the sniffles on the other end, heart squeezing a bit knowing that she was being hard on him.

"I'm sorry, it's just you have such talent, you're just in a slump J," he hummed in agreeance on the other end, "and you're gonna do such amazing things, you just need to push through it." "Should I give 'em hell?" "You need to raise Hell J," she finished her pep talk as he whispered a quiet Thank you and then hung up.

★★

"Go home alone"

She remembers the phone call so clearly, sitting in her dorm in her junior year, moving in only a few days prior as she started to get ready for her classes.

the phone rang twice before she answered the call, and an unknown number appeared on the screen as she stared at the random digits. "Hello?" "Is this Y/n L/n?" "This her," she said with a clear voice, brows furrowed as she held the phone a little away from her face to see if maybe she now recognized the number.

"Great! This is Tom Fitzgerald, GM of the New Jersey Devils," her heart dropped, and she sat up quickly as she looked at her roommate with wide eyes, "we would like to invite you to Jersey for the weekend, Lindy Ruff would like to meet you and have a chat about some sort of deal!" "Of course, I'm free whenever," her hand covered her mouth in shock as she felt the slight tremor of her hands, "thank you for this opportunity Sir," the man hung up the phone as she stared at her screen with wide eyes.

A smile rested on her face as a notification popped up.

My turn to tell you to raise hell! 😈❤️

Jack's number appeared just above the message as she looked up to her roommate. "Holy shit"

-

-

-

Kinda scared to post this 🫣

[cmdrfupa]

Have my unedited Ino thoughts

You let out a sigh, trying to remind yourself that it wasn’t a big deal.

People flake, it happens. But damn, blocking you?

Stinging regret settled as you thought on your genius “date outside of your comfort zone” idea. This was suppose to be the year of no expectations just fun and now those no expectations had you sitting on a bench at a park, eating a sad ice cream cone after being stood up.

The night winds blew gently, and with that came the sounds of wheels gliding across the pavement coming from behind you.

One, two, three, four, five. Five guys skating up one by one. A pink haired one on inlines closely behind, recording the masked leader while blasting probably the last song you thought you’d hear at a skatepark.

He did what you knew to be a frontside flip thanks to your brother then proceeded with moving closer to the camera to lift his balaclava just enough to show his mouth.

Something shiny caught your attention and you cocked your head to the side as you he flicked his tongue out. A silver ball. A tongue ring.

“And that’s how you serve up. TakuDori skate team, ready to be the reigning street champs yet again. See you at the finals, baby boy.” He kissed the camera and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

Licking your ice cream cone, you smiled as he pulled his mask off and all of a sudden you could sit for just a little longer. “Well..” light brown hair, stuck to his forehead and nape as he lifted his long sleeve over his head, white undershirt sticking to him. “Damn. Definitely a fuckboy.”

“Good shit Yu! Buzz for the next tourney is going to really bring in a huge crowd.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning to give you a view of the probably the prettiest tattoo you’d ever seen on a person: Three dragons circled around a sea turtle. Vibrant with hues of red, green, yellow and browns that looked like water color.

Impressive.

He was tall, lean and effortless and he skated around twirling his shirt above his head. Weaving around the park like it was his personal playground with a physique that… well… it didn’t hurt that he was etched from marble.

You watched as he launched off a ramp, landing smoothly before skidding to a stop near the edge of the park— near you.

And then it happened. He tugged the undershirt off over his head, revealing toned abs and a much broader chest than you originally imagined, and used it to wipe sweat from his neck.

It was such a quick— natural— completely unintentional motion but it had you stuck. At least until he caught you staring.

“You enjoying the show?” He asked, his voice light and teasing. When your eyes snapped to meet his, you saw the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He definitely noticed.

“I wasn’t—“ you lied, stumbling over your words, heat rushing to you cheeks. “I wasn’t watching.”

“Mhmm.” He raised his eyebrow, clicking the metal ball against his teeth, clearly unconvinced while slinging the shirt over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. I’d probably stare also if I saw someone pulling off the moves I just did.”

That earned an eyeroll. “Our humble king.”

He grinned, stepping closer. “Confidence is key.”

“Or annoying” you shot back, though the smile growing on your face betrayed your amusement. He caught it and leaned against his board, his grin now undeniable.

“I’m Ino,” he offered his hand. His tone had softened slightly the teasing still there but warmer now, more genuine.

You told him your name, and his eyes lit up like he'd just found something precious. "Nice to meet you. So, what brings you to the skate park? Don't tell me you're secretly a pro skater about to put us all to shame."

"Not likely," you replied with a laugh. "I was at that Thai restaurant across the street. Was supposed to meet someone. A date."

"A date?" He tilted his head, his interest clearly piqued. "Soooo… where are they?"

"They didn't show," you admitted, trying to keep your tone light. "Guess they had better things to do."

His expression shifted, the playful smirk giving way to something softer, more thoughtful. "Better things to do than hang out with you? Mmm, doubt."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "Flattery's not going to get you anywhere," you said, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “You just met me, Ino.”

"Oh, it's not flattery," he replied, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the fence. "It's just facts. Honestly, standing someone like you up? Tragic. But hey, their loss is my gain."

"Your gain?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you gaining here?"

"The chance to make it up to you," he said without missing a beat. "How about this: one date. No standing you up, no awkward silences, just me, you, and a guarantee that I'm way more fun than whoever bailed on you."

You stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. He was bold, that was for sure, but there was something disarming about his confidence-like it wasn't just an act. "You're really not shy, are you?"

"Life's too short to be shy, pretty girl. " he said, flashing you a grin so genuine it made your heart skip. "So? What do you say?"

You hesitated, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift his weight, his grin faltering ever so slightly. Then you smiled. "Alright, Ino. You've got yourself a date."

His grin returned full force “"Perfect. You won't regret it, I promise."

“And if I do?”

“I’ll give you my right eye to wear as a charm,” He put his hand up. “Scouts honor.”

“That’s so extreme. I’d just let you have another date, dumbass.”

It was like his eyes turned into hearts. “Yes ma’am.”

_________________

The song in question: