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peppermint-toads · 4 years ago

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hi love!! can i request some poly! marauders x fem (or gn!) reader please? preferably some super fluffy stuff of them playing hide n seek in the castle? <33

word count: 750

cw: eating, tired james, poor grammar?

an: i loved writing this sm pls guys send more requests i’ll write them in a heartbeat

“Shut it, Pads! You’re gonna get us caught!” Remus whispered harshly behind the faint glow of his wand.

“But Remus, aren’t you a prefect?” Sirius countered, flicking the shiny pin that lay on Remus’ lapel.

“Well yeah but you gits aren’t,” His voice was hushed yet somehow still authoritative enough to quiet James and Sirius who trailed closely behind.

It was quiet in the castle, all students sleeping peacefully in their dorms. All students bar the marauders, as they were busy sneaking about the castle in pursuit of you. You who had insisted upon a late night game of hide and seek. Remus, James, and Sirius had begrudgingly agreed to go along with your antics as a reward for doing so well on your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.

The trio had exhausted all your favorite hiding spots with no success. The boys had visited the prefect’s bathroom, the password to which Remus had so graciously shared with you; the astronomy tower; and even the trophy room where you spent hours tracing your finger over James’ name on numerous shimmering goblets.

Before the four of you began the game, you laid out the rules very clearly. No magic, excluding the lumos charm, no assistance from paintings, ghosts, or otherwise, and absolutely no map.

Aforementioned portraits cringed and groaned as the three passed, shielding their tired eyes from the light emitting from Remus’ wand. Various protests sounded from the frames, urging the prefect to shut the light off. When they passed a certain painting, however, the exclamations changed.

“What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!”

Sirius rolled his eyes at the particular nickname, “Sir Cadogan, nobody’s looking for a fight. We’re searching for somebody.”

“Aha! The girl you seek! I can be of no service, I’ve been instructed not to tell.” Sir Cadogan sheathed his sword by his side and gave them a knowing smirk. “On your way, then!” With that, the boys continued down the Grand Staircase.

James sighed, “Mates, we’ve been just about

everywhere! Maybe we should just check the map and we can all get to bed. I’ll be in deep if I miss practice tomorrow.” Remus threw his head back in annoyance, “No, James. We promised her a fair game, did we not?”

“Fine,” James groaned, knowing Remus was right, “There’s one last place we can look.” James led his counterparts down the barren corridors, past the Hufflepuff common room, and into the kitchen.

You didn’t frequent the kitchen, making it a less obvious place for you to hide. Reason being, the house elves became less than pleasant when students visited unannounced.

You were sitting in front of the crackling fire that fueled a bubbling cauldron, munching on a pastry you filched from the pantry. You were having a relatively one sided conversation with an elf who offered only an apathetic expression in response.

“You see, what Sirius just doesn’t understand is that-” You were interrupted by three familiar voices echoing through the corridors.

“Finally,” you muttered to yourself. Standing, you brushed your stockings from any debris they had gathered from the uninviting cobblestone below. In doing so, you noticed quite the tear in your sheer undergarment.

The sound of footsteps grew louder and soon the three gangly boys were gracing the entrance of the double doorway.

Your stance was expectant as you glanced down at your imaginary watch. “Took you long enough.”

Sirius tutted as he approached you, adjusting your blouse and pulling down your skirt. “You’ve made a proper mess of your clothes, puppy. Look at this!” He ran a gentle finger down the run in your tights.

“Always one for appearances,” James mumbled to Remus who let out a short laugh. Stifling his giggles, Remus stalked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush with his chest. He placed chaste kisses on the top of your head, rocking you side to side.

“Let’s get you to bed, hm? Must be tired from all that hiding.” You nodded, head rubbing against Remus’ grey sweater vest.

You wiggled from his grasp, making your way towards James who twirled you around before embracing you in a loving hug.

“C’mon Jamesie, s’time for bed.” An endearing smile appeared on each of their visages as they led you back to Gryffindor Tower for a good night's rest. Though, perhaps a bath first.

TAGLIST: @ottjord @312903 @advictedtohim @itskailey24 @main-feetoffthetable @qualitybelieverflower

#marauders x reader #poly marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #marauders fluff #remus lupin fluff #sirius black fluff #james potter fluff #poly marauders fluff

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y0itsbri · 3 years ago

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Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

#i might have an idea for a sequel/series if anyone is interested: mandy pov of this and another one shot in their relationship era???#who knows #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #svetlana yevgenivna #my posts

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doubleleoenergy · 4 years ago

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iv. Lolita, Lolita Series

Hey Lolita, hey! Hey Lolita, hey! I know what the boys want, I'm not gonna play.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, oral (female receiving), pet names, dirty talk

Words: 2240

Summary: Andy’s falling at y/n’s feet, just like all the other boys before.

Six days. It had been six agonizing days since their encounter at the club, and Andy Barber was losing his cool. The nightly, and sometimes midday, jerkoff sessions weren’t quite enough to satisfy his hunger.

Things with y/n had been the same, as if their little blowjob fest hadn’t happened. They continued to carpool to the office, continued to be friendly back at home, and y/n continued to tease him as always. She’d wear her tight and barely there clothing around the house and the office and had even started walking around in her towel after her showers. Andy didn’t mind the view, and neither did the boys, stuttering and stammering at the sight of her. But again, it wasn’t enough.

That morning y/n greeted him with another breakfast and coffee before work, donning a black long sleeve crop top with a slit across to give him the view of just a bit of cleavage. Her light denim jeans were practically painted on her body, her perky ass bouncing with each step in her black strappy heels.

“You look good, y/n. As always.” Andy commented, taking a sip of his coffee. He thought a bit of flirting might help his case of getting closer to his little Lolita, though she didn’t seem phased by the compliment.

“Thanks Andy, we should get going. I’m shadowing you with your clients today, remember?” Her internship had been stellar, learning valuable information about the field and her future career. The only problem occasionally was Neal, who tended to linger too long at her desk and always stared down her shirt as he talked. Normally she would put the man in her place, but it offered a good source of jealousy from Andy, which she couldn’t pass up.

Their ride to the office was filled with conversation as Andy briefed her on their clients for the day, y/n taking notes in her notebook of all the critical details. Though she probably wouldn’t need the notes, she had read over the client’s files for the past two days in anticipation.

Y/N sashayed down the hall in front of Andy to his office, and he watched her ass the entire time she moved, trying not to pop a boner before the workday even started. After arriving at the office door and unlocking it, the two got comfortable for their first client of the day.

“Are you nervous?” Andy questioned, eyes focusing intently on her.

“Of course not. I’m just eager to please.” Her tone was heavy with seduction, lips curving into a huge smile when Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

By the time they had finished up with their clients for the day it was nine o’clock, a much later day at the office for them since y/n had started her internship. The two were both starving since lunch, stomachs growling as they headed home for the evening.

“Jacob said he and the boys are going to see a midnight movie showing after the bar, won’t be back till late.” Y/N announced, fingers typing out a quick reply to Jacob.

“Alright, are you interested in going out for some food? I think it’s way too late to start cooking something. We can go to that Mexican restaurant up the street from the house if you want.” Andy suggested, glancing over at y/n as he parked the car in the driveway.

“That’s fine, let me go change really quick and then we can go.” Y/N walked straight through the garage doors and up into her room, getting herself refreshed for dinner. Andy decided to change as well, pulling on a pair of dark denim jeans and a grey Henley long-sleeved shirt that accentuated his muscles. He was honestly hoping that y/n might consider this a date but given how she seemed to avoid any movement in their relationship, it seemed unlikely.

Andy scrolled through his email on his cell phone, leaning against the kitchen counter as she walked down the stairs. His eyes met hers before traveling down to the tight burgundy floral mini dress, the thin spaghetti straps barely holding in her braless breasts as they poked out slightly above the fabric. Andy’s eyes continued lower to the slit in the dress, staring at where the slit hit mid-thigh and ended right at her hip bone. Was she not wearing any underwear?

“Okay, I’m ready.” Y/N’s black stilettos clicked against the hardwood as she made her way towards the door, headed towards his car once again. Andy trailed behind, his eyes roaming over her backside while his cock stirred in his jeans.

The restaurant was less than a mile from the house, a quick drive for them both, which was a relief considering how hungry they both were. The waitress came up shortly after they sat, a young perky blonde who seemed to be a little extra attentive to Andy, though he didn’t pay any attention to her. He was too busy watching y/n scanning the menu, chewing her bottom lip as she figured out what to eat.

“I’ll have a Coors Light and a southwest salad, please.” Y/N’s voice was soft as she spoke to the waitress.

“I’ll have a Coors as well with the street taco trio. Thank you.” Andy handed over their menus before returning his attention back to y/n. “Did you like sitting in on the meetings today?” He asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Definitely, it’s nice to fully see the process at work. Usually I’m filing the paperwork after a meeting, but today gave me the chance to start from the initial meeting to the filing.” The waitress arrived with their drinks as she finished her sentence, taking a long swig from her beer.

“I’m glad. We make a good team, don’t you think?” Andy had to admit, she was the most impressive intern they’d had since he started there. But the question isn’t just about work, hinting at the possibility of them together.

“We’re alright.” She responded, shrugging her shoulders. Andy sighed, six days of waiting to figure out anything between them was torture, just like the mind games she was playing with him now. His thoughts are briefly interrupted by the arrival of their meal, using the break in their conversation to consider his next words carefully. It was like he was building a case as he had done hundreds of times at work, though this case was a bit higher stake for him.

“Look, in the club I know I said we couldn’t do this...do us.” Good start, Andy-boy. “But we’re both adults as you said. It’s not weird, unless we make it weird, and if we keep things private for a while so as not to hurt Jacob...why don’t we give it a try? Us, I mean.”

Y/N chewed thoughtfully on her meal, listening to his case and reflecting on his words. “I’m not a relationship girl, you know that.” The thought of being in a committed relationship with anyone terrified her, a trigger from her family trauma. What happens if Andy is kind at first, but later turns into a monster like her father? Would she really want to end up like her mom? No thank you.

“I do know that, but I also know that there’s something between us, y/n. You can’t deny that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done what you had.” Andy retorted, taking a bite of his tacos.

“Everything I do is because I want to do it.” She declared, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “A relationship is different, Andy. Why tie yourself down to someone? It’s not like it ever lasts, you should know that firsthand.” She’s referring to his divorce, the thought that Andy even wanted to be committed to someone else after that was confusing.

“Maybe that’s true, or maybe we’re just waiting for the right person to change our minds.” He’s leaning on the table now, his eyes locked on hers to gauge her reactions.

Y/N’s eyebrow raises at his response, her head tilting to the side. “And you’re trying to say that I’m that right person?” Her eyes roll back into her head, straightening her body and digging back into her meal. “You’re thinking a little too highly after one hookup.”

Andy knows they’re going in circles with the conversation and so he drops it, finishing up their meals in silence and not protesting when y/n asks to split the bill. Definitely not a date.

The ride back to the house is uncomfortably silent, y/n playing Candy Crush on her phone to distract herself from any further talk about a relationship. Y/N is about to go up the stairs to her room when they arrive, but Andy stops her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back over to him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, brows furrowed as her eyes meet his blue hues. Andy tugs her closer by her waist in response to her question, lips hovering inches away.

“Think about it, we’d be good together, you can’t deny that.” And with that Andy is leaning in, pressing his lips passionately against y/n’s own. Without any hesitation y/n reciprocates the kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer, if that was even possible.

Their lips dance together in the perfect rhythm for a moment before Andy breaks the kiss to pepper wet kisses to the flesh on y/n’s neck. She rolls her head to one side to give him better access, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck when he nibbles on a sensitive spot. She lets him continue for a moment before pushing him gently off her, confusing laced across his face.

Y/N’s heels click against the hardwood as she starts walking down the hallway towards his bedroom door, stopping right in front of it and looking back at Andy, a cocky grin spreading across her swollen lips.

“I think it’s time you return the favor from the other night.” And with that she slips into his bedroom, Andy following quickly on her heels and shutting the door behind them. He watches, eyes blown wide, as she saunters over to the bed, sitting right on the edge of it. She leans her body back, her weight against her elbows, opening her legs to reveal her bare core, her heels firmly placed on the floor in front of the bed for balance.

“Don’t just stand there and stare, Andy. Get to work.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, practically crawling across the room, his knees hitting the soft carpet a foot away from her outstretched legs. His strong hands move from her knees up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her stomach to reveal her wet heat to him.

It was glistening like diamonds, just as beautiful as the rest of her body. He rests his hands on each of her inner thighs, pushing her legs slightly wider and locking his eyes with hers as he leans forward and licks a strip up her slit. His first taste of her is incredible, better than he could’ve imagined, and he wastes no time on diving in further, lapping at her core.

Andy’s beard tickles her pussy as he works his tongue into her, sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers instinctively grab at his hair, her grip tightening whenever he lapped at a spot that made her moan. She kept her eyes on him the entire time, loving the way he looked between her legs. She could get used to this.

Andy moved his head back, his pointer and middle finger rubbing against her wet folds before they dive in, curling deep and releasing a satisfied moan from her lips. “Your pussy is so pretty, so wet and delicious. My little Lolita.” There goes the pet name from the other night, though it was quite fitting for her.

His fingers find a good rhythm inside her, eliciting the prettiest moans from her lips. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, though he knows right now it is all about her pleasure. He can tell her orgasm is building, moving his face back to suck at her clit while his fingers keep their pace in and out of her dripping core.

Her walls start to tighten, y/n seeing stars as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach, tightening her grip on his hair. Andy’s eyes lock back on hers, a seductive smirk spreading across his lips.

“Let go, Lolita. Cum for me.” And just like that her orgasm rips through her, her walls tightening around his fingers as she pushes his face flush against her folds, allowing him to lap up her release.

She’s shaking by the time he pulls away, his beard covered in her slick, the sight alone giving her a sense of pride and ownership over him.

“That was incredible.” Y/N announces, adjusting her dress and standing back up, stepping towards the door of the bedroom. Andy’s jaw drops, his cock twitching as she walks away. “Where are you going? I’m hard as a rock right now.”

Y/N stops to look at him, her eyes trailing to the bulge in his jeans, shrugging her shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to jerk off to your fantasies of me as always.” And with that she opens the door and exits the bedroom, leaving Andy kneeling with frustration against the carpet.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @goldenboysteve @turtoix @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx

#doubleleoenergyseries: lolita #DLE Series: Lolita #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber x female reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

#dragonbabbles #marvel #the longest running con in the mcu is people thinking steve isnt an extra hoe #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fic

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Text

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You’re tired of denying your relationship in every interview, but Tom insists on keeping it a secret. Lucky for you, he’s terrible at keeping secrets

Masterlist

Secretly dating Tom Holland was not an easy job. You were his on and offscreen girlfriend, no people naturally wanted you to be together in real life. Towards the beginning of your relationship, you both agreed to keep it private. You’d managed to deny relationship rumors for over a year until you discovered something:

You and Tom were really really bad at keeping it a secret.

Far too many times, you’d do or say something that confirmed your relationship. And far too many times, you’d have to go on twitter to say it was a joke and that you and Tom were just friends. You hated lying to your fans about the nature of your relationship, and Tom wasn’t fond of it either. You didn’t want to lie anymore. You were ready for the world to know. And yet, the worst secret keeper in Hollywood was determined to keep it a secret.

It all started with social media.

You had stirred up rumors that you and Tom were dating when you dyed your hair red after being cast as MJ and posted a photo of it, captioning it “Face it tiger…”. Tom couldn’t help himself from commenting “I hit the jackpot.” The Spider-Man and MJ reference did not go over people’s heads and the rumors were born.

“This would be such a cute way to confirm our relation.” You smiled as your scrolled through the comments of your picture. “We should tell them.”

“Not yet, darling. I’m not ready for the world to know.” Tom said, much to your disappointment.

“Okay. No, I get it.” You gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek, dropping the subject.

A few weeks later, you sent out a tweet that read, “Tom just hit a pothole so hard that he’s American now.”, leaving fans to wonder why you were together on your day off.

“They caught us. They know we’re on a date.” You said from the passenger seat.

“Friends can hang out on days off. That doesn’t mean we’re a couple.” Tom replied and you looked over at him.

“But we are a couple.” You reminded him, a little hurt at his phrasing.

“They don’t need to know that. I wouldn’t even respond to it. Don’t feed the flame.” Tom shrugged and shot you a smile. You faked a smile back and nodded.

“You’re right. I won’t respond.” You put your phone down and looked out the window, hoping he couldn’t sense your disappointment.

Then, it escalated to interviews.

“Does your friendship ever interfere with shooting the romantic scenes? Like, were you ever shooting a cuddling scene or a date scene where you were grossed out because you had to do romantic things with your friend?” The interviewer asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

“Was it weird to do romantic things with my friend Tom? That’s a great question.” You said and Tom laughed from beside you, also seeing the irony. “It was pretty weird since we are such good friends.”

“The best of friends.” Tom egged on.

“Definitely.” You gave an over exaggerated nod. “He’s like family to me.”

“Like brother and sister.” Tom added and you burst out laughing. Tom laughed at your reaction and suddenly, you’re both hunched over laughing while the interviewer watched with a confused smile.

“I don’t think it was weird.” You said after you calmed down. “I have such a respect for Tom and I really admire his work as an actor, and I assume he feels the same for me-“

“More or less.” Tom joked.

“-so it wasn’t too bad.” You finished and elbowed him slightly.

“Was the first time you kissed awkward?” The interviewer asked.

“In the movie or-“ Tom began, forgetting the rest of the world didn’t know that you’d have a first kiss as Peter and MJ and a first kiss as a couple.

“No, it wasn’t awkward.” You quickly cut him off before he blew your cover. “At the end of the day, we’re both professionals and it’s just kissing. We do it all the time now.”

“Sometimes off screen. And that’s not a joke.” Tom brought up. “Especially during filming, I would sometimes forget we weren’t actually together and I’d walk into a room and kiss her.”

You smiled at the memory, remembering all the stolen kisses before you’d made it official.

“How did everyone else react?” The interviewer asked.

“They acted like it was completely normal.” You answered.

“Because for us, it was.” Tom shrugged.

“I will say, it did get complicated kissing you when were were shooting our reunion scene in Endgame because I had to be careful of your balls.” You said.

“What?” Tom nearly gasped. You realized how it sounded and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Motion sensor balls. The little white motion sensor balls.” You quickly explained. “Oh my God. I meant the balls on the motion caption suit.”

“I was about to say.” Tom laughed at your accident innuendo.

“Ask the next question, please.” You pleaded to get out of the awkward moment.

“So did you guys meet through this movie?” The interviewer saved you.

“Yes. We met while filming Infinity War when no one had any idea our characters were going to date.” You answered confidently to redeem yourself.

“We were always paired together for junkets and she gradually became my best friend. Sorry Haz.” Tom apologized to the camera.

“It’s great that you guys were able to click. Your chemistry in the movie is really outstanding.” The interviewer complimented. “I’m sure that’s due to the friendship you’ve built off screen.”

“Yeah, I mean it always helps to be friends with your scene partner. And when we would have to spend hours in a prop bed together, cuddling and kissing while they got the perfect shot, it made us even closer. And as for the chemistry, I guess it kinda happened naturally.” You smiled shyly.

“Here’s a clip from the upcoming film.” The interview said to the camera. A scene from Far From Home played where Peter and MJ awkwardly yet adorably flirting with each other on the London Bridge. You couldn’t help but lovingly watch Tom as the clip played, overly proud of his job in the film.

“We do have great chemistry.” Tom nodded after the clip played. “We should date.” He added and you laughed.

“The fans would love that. I’m sure you’ve seen the campaigns online for you two to get together.” The interviewer remarked.

“We’ve seen it. Or at least, I have. Have you?” You asked Tom.

“I started the campaign.” Tom deadpanned.

“Oh, okay.” You nodded causally. You both kept a straight face for as long as you could before you burst into laughter. You curled into Toms side and laughed until your sides hurt.

“So is this really just a friendship? Nothing more?” The interviewer asked skeptically.

“No. We’re just really good friends.” Tom said firmly. You smile slowly faded and you gave a curt nod. For the rest of the interview, you were in autopilot. Every time you thought Tom was ready to tell the world, he hit you with the “just friends” line. It wasn’t him calling you “friend” that hurt you. It was him saying “just”. Every time he said it, he chipped into your heart. It hurt you to hear him play your relationship off as “just” anything.

At the next interview with Jimmy Kimmel, you had a bigger slip than usual.

“I love the pants Tom.” Jimmy complimented a few minutes into the interview. “But I do miss you in the Spiderman suit.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tom smiled and smoothed out his grey patterned pants. “My girlfriend picked them out.” He said causally. His eyes widened and you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

“Girlfriend?” Jimmy asked with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, Uh, yeah. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. I wasn’t supposed to let that slip so no one tell her.” Tom grimaced before looking into the camera. “Sorry, baby. She is really good at fashion though. She picked out most of my outfits for the press tour.”

“Well I have to say, your girlfriend has great taste.” Jimmy said.

“Thank you.” You answered, then cleared your throat to cover up the slip up. Tom caught your mistake and stifled a laugh.

“What was that, Y/n?” Tom asked coyly, knowing full well what you had accidentally said.

“I said she’s gonna kill you.” You lied through a smile.

“You’ve met her?” Jimmy asked you and you thought quickly on your feet.

“Oh yes. I know her very well.” You nodded. It wasn’t a total lie. You knew yourself pretty well.

“So you guys are friends?” Jimmy continued.

“No. I cannot stand that girl.” You laughed and Tom rolled his eyes. If he wasn’t gonna admit that his girlfriend was you, you were gonna have some fun.

“Here we go.” Tom sighed and the audience laughed.

“Why not?” Jimmy inquired.

“Because all she does is talk about herself.” You said. Tom laughed the irony and you giggled yourself.

“Well what about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” Jimmy asked.

“I do have a boyfriend but he’s the worst.” You confirmed. Tom gave you a half cracked smile.

“What?” He asked, practically daring you to go on.

“Why do you say that?” Jimmy laughed.

“He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” You shrugged. “Except the one. He’s really good at keeping one.”

Tom knew exactly what you were doing and he couldn’t even blame you. He didn’t say anything, but patted your knee and left his hand there.

“So he’s like Tom then?” Jimmy said. “Tom, you’ve become infamous in Hollywood as being loose lipped.”

“He is not loose lipped, his lips are very nice.” You defended and Tom smiled shyly. “He just gets too excited and lets things slip.”

“Like you during that one scene.” Tom spoke up. You knew what he was talking about and your face reddened.

“Stop.” You warned.

“What did she let slip?” Jimmy wondered.

“Oh My God. This story is so embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face in your hands. Tom laughed at your discomfort and took your hand.

“We were shooting the “steamy”, as one night call it, scene in the film and she was supposed to say “Peter”, you know my characters name, in like a breathy voice.” Tom explained.

“I’d like to preface that this was an accident.” You cut in.

“So we’re shooting the scene and right in my ear she goes “Tom…I mean Peter”. But the whole thing comes out in like a moan and I thought it was the funniest thing ever.” Tom told the story.

“It was so embarrassing! The whole crew heard.” You groaned while Tom and the audience laughed at your expense.

You and Tom walked into your shared hotel room after the interview and allowed yourselves to relax. While you were setting your purse down on the bed, Tom came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You leaned into his embrace and smiled.

“That went a lot better than I thought. If people think we’re dating other people, they’ll stop asking us if we’re together. This will totally throw them off.” Tom said and he kissed your temple. Your smile dropped as you turned around in his arms.

“Or, we could use this as an opportunity to tell them the truth about us. They know you have a girlfriend. Why not tell them that girlfriend is me?” You asked.

“Because my fans will come at you with a fiery vengeance. It’s better if they think you’re just my best friend. Trust me, darling, you don’t want them to know it’s you.” Tom tilted your chin up to look at him.

“And trust me, Tom, I do.” You said, and left his embrace.

The next day, you pretended like nothing happened for the sake of all the junkets you had to get through. You could tell Tom was sorry from the guilty looks he kept giving you, but you wouldn’t look back at him.

“What’s the best part of the press tour?” The interviewer asked.

“Getting to spend all day with my best friend.” You laud the word on thick as you wrapped your arms around Toms neck and covered his cheek in kisses. He got your point and let you do it as his way of apologizing. The interviewer laughed along, knowing the effect your actions would have on the fans.

“It’s great that you two are best friends. Is this press tour similar to the Homecoming one where you had to spend all day with Robert?” Tom was asked.

“That was a lot different. Robert has more of a godfather role in my life. I can go to him for advice, but I can’t play table tennis with him at three am in the hotel lobby like I can with Y/n.” Tom answered. You were warmed back up to him and gave him a gentle smile.

“And what’s your relationship with him like?” The interviewer asked you.

“He’s like my dad. He used to carry bandaids around just because I got hurt so much on set.” You replied.

“I remember that. He was always prepared. I went to Robert once when I was sick and he hooked me up to this crazy machine. I was super scared but it’s Robert Downey Jr., so I wasn’t gonna say no.” Tom chimed in.

“He makes Marvel lower your paycheck every time you say no to him.” You joked.

“Exactly. So I let him hook me up to it and it totally cured me. I was better in 15 minutes.” Tom continued.

“Aw. That’s so funny to think of Robert playing doctor on set. I guess your relationship with him is similar to Tony’s relationship with Peter?” The interview asked Tom.

“Definitely, definitely. Minus the fighting crime together and dying in his arms, obviously.” Tom replied.

“Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good.” You cut in with a laugh. Tom and the interviewer stopped and looked at you.

“What?” Tom asked with a growing smile.

“I said Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good. Like Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good.” You explained. You looked at Tom in confusion as he and the interviewer shared a look.

“What?” Tom repeated.

“Because you said your relationship was similar so I said-“ You began.

“No, I heard what you said.” Tom cut you off. “Who’s Mr. Junior?”

“Robert.” You replied, still confused why everyone was making a big deal.

“It’s Mr. Downey.” Tom said and began to laugh.

“Why would it be Mr. Downey? You wouldn’t be Mr. Stanley. It’s the last name. Mr. Junior.” You said again, feeling yourself growing frustrated.

“Yes, and his last name is Downey. My middle name is Stanley.” Tom explained.

You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what Tom was saying.

“Did you think his last name was Junior?” Tom broke the silence.

“No?” You said as more of a question than a statement.

“Have you seriously thought Roberts last name was Junior this entire time?” The interviewer asked, also laughing at you.

“I thought Downey was his middle name!” You shrieked.

“What?!” Tom asked and burst into laughter. You felt your face redden as the crew laughed at you as well.

“I thought he was Robert Downey Junior!” You said each name separately. “I thought he just used his full name like Neil Patrick Harris.”

“No.” Tom said in exasperation. “His fathers also named Robert so he’s Robert Downey Jr.”

“But he goes by RDJ! That implies that the “J” is a part of his initials.” You exclaimed.

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation right now.” Tom said as he wiped a happy tear from his eye.

“How did you think I feel?” You asked.

“I can’t handle this. You’re so ridiculous.” Tom choked out through his laughter. “I love you.” You restrained yourself from telling him you loved him back, knowing you couldn’t possibly make it sound platonic.

“Aw.” The interviewer gushed. “You two are such cute friends.”

“Yeah.” You gave a tight lipped smile. “Friends.”

As the press tour neared its end, your ability to keep the secret worsened.

Tom gave you a quick kiss on the lips before the cameras started rolling. The interviewer almost caught it, but you pulled away quickly before he could.

“What is that?” Tom asked as you bite into something orange sometime during the junket.

“A carrot.” You shrugged as your chewed.

“Where did you get carrots?” Tom laughed in confusion.

“The snack table outside.” You replied as you ate another one.

“There’s a snack table? Oh, that’s why you tasted like peppers.” He realized. Neither of you realized what he said but the interviewer raised an eyebrow.

“You know I can’t resist some peppy boys.” You told him. “That better be cut out.” You warned the camera.

“You say that every interview.” Tom pointed out.

“It feels warranted every interview.” You giggled. “You know I debated stealing some of the pineapple from the snack table to take home?”

“Of course you did. You and your smoothies.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“I love smoothies! Is that a crime?” You turned in your seat to ask him.

“Yes! You drink a smoothie every morning and then get hungry twenty minutes later. You guys, she does not eat enough.” Tom said to the camera.

“It’s better than you and your thirty jars of jelly in the refrigerator because someone can’t go a day without toast.” You shot back.

“Oh, do you guys live together?” The interviewer asked in surprise.

You and Tom blinked in surprise at accidentally revealing that fact.

“Uhh, yeah. We’re um…” You started.

“Roommates.” Tom said quickly. “I live in the UK but I work mainly in the States, so I live with Y/n when I’m here.”

“Roommates? How cute.” The interviewer smiled.

“Just adorable.” You mumbled.

You dropped your purse on the hotel bed that night and put you hands on your hips. Without even looking at you, Tom could sense you anger. He sheepishly looked up at you and gave you a weak grin.

“I’m sorry?” He offered.

“For what?” You demanded.

“I don’t know. You haven’t told me yet.” He said.

“Roommates? You told him we were roommates?” You asked, not bothering to mask the hurt in your voice.

“Well why else would we live together?” Tom defended his answer.

“I don’t know, maybe because we’ve been in a committed relationship for over a year.” You grumbled. Tom heard the frustration in your voice and and put a gentle hand on your arm.

“But they don’t know that, darling.” He said softly.

“But I want them too. You keep pushing back telling our fans. You said we’d tell them before the press tour.” You said, feelings tears rise to your eyes.

“Yes, but then I realized all the interviews would focus on our relationship and not the movie.” Tom reminded you. “We needed to promote the movie.”

“No one needs to promote Marvel movies! They’re Marvel movies!” You exclaimed.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this, sweetheart. We agreed not to tell our fans.” Tom tried to talk you down.

“We agreed not to tell our fans right away. It’s been a year Tom. Do you not want them to know?” You sighed.

“I like my privacy, love. I don’t want the world intruding on us. I love you too much to share.” Tom cupped your face in his hands but you looked away.

“You say you love me, but tell the world I’m nothing but a best friend.” You said sadly. “Or worse, a roommate.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, angel. I’m sorry.” Tom apologized. You dropped the subject and went to bed without another word. You were cold towards Tom all the next day until your interview that night, the last of the press tour.

The media frenzy of rumors came to an end during a game of Charades on Jimmy Fallon. You were on Jimmy’s team, leaving Tom and Benedict as your opponents. You shot flirty banter back and forth all game until finally, your team won.

“Haha.” You pointed a jeering finger at Tom as you got off the couch and approaching him. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you with pure joy. “Just like the War of 1812, the British lost-“ You couldn’t finish your burn because Tom had pulled you into a kiss.

“Sorry, darling. You looked so cute up there. I couldn’t resist.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Wait, are you two together?” Jimmy asked, interrupting the moment. He was looking back and forth between you and Tom and the camera. You realized that the moment occurred on live television and suddenly felt shyer than you ever had before.

Tom looked at you, allowing you to be the one to confirm it after wanting too for so long. You looked into the camera and smirked.

“Truth is…I am dating Tom Holland.” You said in true Tony Stark fashion. The audience irrupted into applause and you couldn’t stop your smile from breaking through. Tom looked at you fondly and pulled you into a hug.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Yes I did.” He whispered into your ear. “love my privacy, but I love you more.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @ho-ho-holland @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @mjspxrker @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x you #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #marvel #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker imagine #fic rec

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sleephyjhs · 4 years ago

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You Sing Lullabies to your Baby (REACTION)

all members are included under the ‘keep reading’ link

notes: this genuinely has taken me so long and i am so so sorry. when it comes to parent aus i really like to take my time since they’re my favourite, i hope it’s okay!!

m.list | requested

KSJ

Your prolonged absence from the downstairs loveseat caught Seokjin’s attention. The baby monitor had alerted you of your newborn’s disturbed sleeping, but the lack of commotion from upstairs interested him. After pausing the animation film he was determined to finish with you, he traipsed carefully for the stairs so not to further disturb your son.

His fingertips scarcely skimmed the corridor walls as he tiptoed towards the nursery. Through your newfound maternal panic, the panelled door had been left slightly ajar in the rush to attend to your baby; the small opening allowed just the right amount of view to see what had distracted you for so long.

The nursery itself was dark, illuminated only by pastel nightlights that so often fascinated his son’s brown doe eyes. Sleeping in the dark throughout the night was a trait you collectively were glad he’d inherited; tonight was perhaps the first glitch in his habits since birth. Facing away from the opened door was your nursing chair, where you’d positioned your now sleeping son across a flimsy pillow over your lap. His audible muttering was slowly washed away by the sound of your voice, humming a slow lullaby to soothe him.

“And if that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring~” Seokjin’s eyelids fluttered softly in time with the rhythm of your lullaby. You’d previously claimed to sing your baby to sleep when he wasn’t around, and now he had finally caught you.

Instead of feeling the need to interfere, Seokjin stood away from the light and listened to your lullaby repeat again and again until it was time to transfer your son back to his cot. To avoid being caught by you, he hurriedly hopped back down the stairs and resumed his seat in the couch. His private concert would remain his little secret.

MYG

Finishing rehearsals any earlier than midnight had recently become a foreign memory for Yoongi; coming home to a sleeping wife and baby was too painfully familiar. Finally, the rare occasion of an early clock-out had come around. Your newborn’s night routine was one Yoongi frequently missed, so the new opportunity was nothing short of refreshing.

Despite receiving a text saying to expect your husband home earlier than usual, the closing click of the front door was inaudible from your daughter’s nursery. Yoongi dumped his bag on the chair in his home studio and silently proceeded up the stairs.

His light stepping was a habit that had once caused you many frights, but at least your endless efforts to soothe your wailing daughter wouldn’t be reversed. The dim corridor light hardly caused Yoongi’s shadow to cast on the pale carpet of the nursery as he leaned against the doorframe, allured by the soft melody of your humming.

“Round and round the garden like a teddy bear~” Within seconds of listening to your repeating rhyme, Yoongi smiled brightly to himself. Within a matter of minutes, your exhaustion was more than apparent to him.

Yoongi pushed the door slowly to reveal himself to you as you gently placed your daughter back into her crib. Sighing as she finally appeared sound asleep, he held his arms open to you. A hug was nothing short of what you needed.

JHS

Knowing how well you enjoyed laying in on weekends, waking up to a groggy husband, your absence was nothing short of concerning. The warm imprint of your body still staining the bedsheets - you hadn’t been gone for long. Hoseok raised himself slowly, rubbing his eyes in disapproval of the morning sun. His first challenge of the day? Locating you.

Although he shuffled down the corridor still stiffened by the earliness of your escape, you were oblivious to his looming presence. Less than 10 minutes ago, your daughter decided to raise the heavens with her irritant screams. She was only just adjusting to a room of her own; being out of reaching distance from you was proving to be distressing for her, and of course, you.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey~” The soft, motherly hymns attracted Hobi towards the door of the freshly decorated nursery, where you stood rocking the tiny infant in your arms back to sleep. He leaned against the doorframe quietly, still struggling to open his eyes fully. Subconsciously, his head swayed from side to side in chime with the repeating melody, immersing him fully in your morning serenade.

Realising how tired he was, Hoseok figured singing lullabies so early in the morning could’ve been enough to send you drowsy all over again. Before his eyes could close completely on his two main girls, he traipsed slowly down the stairs in order to prepare you a well-earned homemade breakfast.

KNJ

As much as you both we’re almost always left exhausted from your busy schedules, if the only time you had together was past midnight then Namjoon would do what he could to make it work for you. Watching a movie at 2am was a risky move - balancing the volume to not disturb your dozing twin boys was hard work.

Just when you thought you’d worked it out, the chorus of agitated cries roared through the baby monitor, “No you stay here, eat.” You convinced Namjoon before he could even place his bowl of food on the coffee table.

Long after finishing his overdue dinner and still no sign of you, Namjoon paused the now-concluding film and crept through the silence towards the nursery where his baby boys had generated a now dwindling raucous. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about agreeing to stay put; one noisy baby was enough for anybody to handle, let alone a carbon copy.

Before he could barge through the door to aid the process, Namjoon paused in the corridor at the breaking of the silence. A small, cloud nightlight illuminated the cosy nursery that homed his boys and projected it’s yellow glow onto you. With a sleepy baby in each arm, you rocked back and forth in the pillowed nursing chair, “I’m sometimes up and sometimes down, coming for to carry me home.”

Maybe you had it all under wraps after all..

PJM

You’d anticipated Jimin’s return from tour for nearly a month, and were over the moon to finally be able to snuggle with your love once again. The daily facetimes were nowhere near as good as the real thing.

Although, the advantage was your new capability to lie. With your forced smile and optional mute button, you were hoping that Jimin never took a moment to suspect things weren’t as perfect as you so convinced him. Admitting your struggles would only guilt trip him into coming home briefly when he could, which was more stress he could’ve done without.

Your daughter could sense her father’s absence, and proved to you that she missed him more than you did. Never before had you had so many sleepless nights. Your mind was packed to the brim with lullabies from all over the world; it was all that worked in getting her to sleep anymore. Instead of preparing for Jimin’s return, her restless sleep pattern drew you back to her room, singing the same lullaby she’d heard nearly a hundred times before.

As you chanted the sleepy serenade to your disturbed, Jimin snuck through the front door unheard. His arrival was far earlier than you’d expected, but your seeet vocal tones whistling down the staircase was a great enough gift for him.

“Wherever you go, no matter where you are, I will never be far away.” Jimin followed the humming trail up the stairs to greet his two girls one again. The sight of you slowly rocking a now dozing daughter was enough to curl his tired eyes into smiling crescents. Certainly, arriving home early was worth the lost hours of rest.

KTH

Following the few, short hours after her birth, you’d finally stumbled across your first obstacle of thousands to come; a sleepless night. Fair enough, being born is a decently traumatic, turbulent experience, and so your daughter was hardly to blame for her discomfort in a foreign place.

The drugs and pain reliefs that were being pumped into you mare you similarly unable to sleep. Taehyung, however, had been long gone since the sunset; supporting you through childbirth was more exhausting than he’d expected. You couldn’t blame him though, he was nothing short of amazing.

Getting in some practice alone was rather ideal for you. A watching crowd would’ve been daunting for any new mother. Lifting your precious newborn from the plastic bassinet, you flicked through the few memorised songs that were within reach of your limited memory.

Just as you conducted your first lullaby of the night, Taehyung suddenly awoke to the distress of his baby. The chair he’d fallen asleep in was far from comfortable, but any surface would’ve done the job. Instead of sitting upright to attend, he waited for a while, fully aware of how long you’d anticipated singing to your precious daughter.

“Sheep safely home have come, bumble bees no longer hum.” Smiling to himself as your gentle voice soothed both your daughter and him down into a snooze, Taehyung took the secret encounter as a chance to further adore you. Interrupting your first bonding moment with your newborn wasn’t on his list of options; Taehyung was more than content to listen to you embrace motherhood as he was certain you would.

JJK

Despite believing your son was well and truly asleep, the inevitable sobbing rattled through the baby monitor eventually. Having time alone with Jungkook was a rarity, but the disruption via your son was hardly repulsed. In fact, you often had to fight for the right to be the one to calm him down.

With it being so late, and him having hardly slept during the day, you knew well that your son was only overtired. Although Jungkook was by far better skilled in the vocal department, sometimes a mother’s lullaby can be all a baby needed. You allowed Jungkook to continue the anime episode without you - it shouldn’t take you so long this time.

Even a few minutes was enough to miss your presence. To grab one last glance of his tiny son for the night, Jungkook soon followed your footsteps to the pale grey nursery you rocked your baby so gently in, “Golden slumber kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise.”

Despite your vocal capability having no leverage on that of your husband’s, Jungkook still enjoyed listening to you. Something about your sweet voice that was hypnotising; drowsy in itself. Instead of storming the brief bonding session, Jungkook awaited you in the hall, grinning widely to himself in the corridor. You were beyond precious.

^ i really dont know why i use the namjoon and his twins starter so much but here we are

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snesdudes · 4 years ago

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Gasp prompts for Mason and Alice?? 💕

General #1: "I love you." "Tell me that when you're sober." pretty please? 💕

Ooooohhhh!!! Thank you for sending this 😍😍 as always it got out of hand and it's long af.

From this list of prompts.

LET'S TRADE SECRETS

Pairing: Mason x f!detective (Alice Santos)

Prompt: "I love you." "Tell me that when you're sober."

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, protective!Mason strikes again, self-esteem issues, drinking. Bobby makes an appearance 😒

Words: ~2.5k

Read on ao3

In any other situation, the loud music and the smell of alcohol would have been too much to bear for Mason. He would have left the crowded living room after being there for five minutes. But he had been at Tina's apartment, where her birthday party was taking place, for more than two hours now, and he wasn't in any hurry to leave. Not alone, at least.

"Dancing has certainly…" Nate cleared his throat a pink hue tainting his cheeks, "changed with the passing of time."

Mason smirked at him while he followed his gaze towards the detective - as if he hadn't been watching her the whole night - just when the redhead turned her back on them while she danced with Tina, shaking her hips while gradually dropping low to the rhythm of the music.

"I really like this dance." Mason answered, noticing how Nate had decided it was better to look inside his glass. He took a swig of his beer with a chuckle, gluing his gaze to the rear of the woman. His woman, he thought, a smile grazing his lips. He could easily watch her all night long. She didn't have time to change after her shift ended, so she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt from a band he had heard a couple of times in her apartment, with a pair of comfortable sneakers. The jeans she was wearing were his favorite ones (could they be any tighter?) and he suspected she had already discovered that.

"Well, our little Allie is certainly having fun." Felix commented, before his golden eyes glanced at Mason. "Though maybe you're having even more fun watching her shake her -"

"Oh, come on." Nate shook his head and Mason barked a laugh, but before he could retort a couple of arms surrounded his neck.

"What's so funny?" Alice asked, her body subtly pressing against his, softly enough to make him shudder slightly. Automatically, his hand found its place on her lower back, the other one cradling a beer.

"Nate's still having problems with how much I enjoy watching you." He answered, grey eyes finding hers, noticing her blown pupils.

She snorted a laugh. "Nate has problems with how much you enjoy ogling my butt." She smirked as she stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips, but he moved back slightly to look at her face, chuckling with amusement at her squeal when he softly pinched her ass. She slapped his shoulder and opened her mouth to whine, but he captured her lips with his own before she had the chance. The arms around his neck tightened their embrace as she sighed into the kiss, tongues finding each other.

Nate grumbled something before turning away and Felix laughed when Tina approached screaming: "Get it, girl!"

Alice chuckled as well and broke the kiss with a smile, throwing her head back for a moment while Mason moved his lips to her cheek, then her ear. The room was spinning ever so slightly, her body felt on fire and her throat was dry. "Wanna go back to your place, spitfire?" His voice was hoarse and goosebumps appeared on her skin where his breath touched her.

"A couple more songs." She replied, quickly pecking his lips, before spotting Nate very carefully looking away from them. "Not a fan of making out at parties, Nate?"

She giggled when his eyes widened a little before he gave her a soft smile. "Oh, it's just… I just think some things are meant to be done in private?"

"We're just kissing, is not as if I'm - I'm gonna stop talking now."

Mason squeezed her waist. "Oh, please, finish the thought."

She blushed harder - her cheeks were already flushed due to the alcohol and the dancing, and Mason licked his lips as he observed her, her gaze following the movement. "Later." She breathed, and in that moment Tina came to them with another glass of tequila sunrise. "Thank you!" She chanted, taking the glass and disentangling herself from Mason with a wink, her other hand taking Tina's, and the both of them walked away dancing. He shook his head with amusement as he heard them laugh together.

"I think she's had enough to drink." Adam commented, making Mason raise an eyebrow towards the leader.

"She's a grown woman. And I'm gonna take her to her place when she's ready, don't worry so much."

"Yeah, she deserves to let loose once in a - uuuhh, is that guy the reporter?" Felix interrupted himself, making Mason snap his gaze back to the center of the living room where people were dancing. He was right, the reporter - her ex boyfriend - was talking to Alice, and judging by the look on her face, not even being drunk she was happy to see him. Mason shifted uncomfortably, not quite liking the jealousy the simple sight of her ex could awake in him. He focused to hear their conversation.

"Come on, angel." Bobby smiled at her, almost too sweetly. "One dance." He inched closer and whispered. "For old times' sake."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes, taking a step back from Bobby. "Believe me when I say there's nothing good to remember about 'the old times'." She chugged her drink, and when she lowered the glass, Bobby was towering over her.

"Oh, come on. You know that's not true. Remember our first Valentine?" He was practically purring, and looking at him through the haze of the tequila, she couldn't believe she fell for his charms so many years ago. "You prepared that romantic dinner in your dorm and then you…" he reached out to curl a strand of her hair around his finger. "I'll always remember how you looked with -"

She slapped his hand away and his grin widened. "Shut up, Bobby. I'm serious."

"You heard her."

Both of them turned just as Mason reached them, his arm coming to rest around her shoulders in a way that just felt natural. She grinned at him before taking another sip, her free arm sneaking around his hips, hand diving into the back pocket of his jeans. Bobby looked amused.

"Ooh, I didn't know you -"

"She does." Mason retorted, not letting the reporter speak. "So, anything else you wanna say, old news?"

Alice snorted, loudly, and covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. That nickname was perfect. Bobby narrowed his eyes, but motioned at her with his chin.

"Be careful with this one. I always had to babysit her when she drank."

And with that, he turned around and left, Tina's "who the hell invited you?" following after his departure. Mason turned to surround Alice with his other arm and noticed her expression had fallen. He took the empty glass from her hand and left it on a shelf nearby before his hand found her hip, then used a finger to raise her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"What's this for?" He asked, thumb tracing her pouting lower lip.

"You feel like you're babysitting me?"

He scoffed. "Always."

The usual sassy remark he was expecting was lost in a frown. "Oh."

Mason rolled his eyes. "So, drunk Alice doesn't get sarcasm, huh? Noted." She blinked up at him before a small smile appeared on her lips. "That guy's a dick. Don't let anything he says get to you, sweetheart."

Her arms surrounded his neck almost lazily. "Hmm. You'll have to distract me."

His embrace tightened. "Just say the word."

She stood on her tiptoes and he lowered his head so she could reach his ear to purr: "Dance with me."

He huffed. "No."

"Please." She breathed against the skin of his neck before placing a small kiss on his pulse point, which jumped.

"I don't dance."

"Pretty please." A kiss on his jaw, her breath on his lips. Her hips were starting to sway and her breasts were pressed against his chest. He was losing this battle. The song changed and a heavy, sultry beat surrounded them.

If he was going to do it, he would do it his way.

His hands tightened on her hips and he twisted her around, her back now against his chest. She laughed with delight as they started moving together, his head dropping to place a feathery kiss behind her ear.

Hips pressed against her backside, they swayed, his thumbs hooking on the belt loops of the front of her jeans, one of her hands on his forearm, the other raised to bury her fingers in his hair. Her eyes were closed, and the music, his heat, the touch of his lips, everything was so delicious it made a smile bloom on her lips.

"You never talk much about what happened between you two." Mason murmured against her skin. Her smile fell.

"You mean Bobby?"

"Yeah."

She sighed and turned on his arms, stumbling slightly, but he supported her. "Ugh… I think I'm ready to go home now."

He just nodded. She left to say her goodbyes to Tina and a few guests and he grabbed her jacket from the mountain of coats on the bedroom.

He found her talking with the Unit, and slipped the jacket over her shoulders. Alice looked up at him with a grateful smile, her heart somersaulting inside her chest at the gesture.

"Are you taking her home?" Nate asked.

"Yup."

"Alright." The tall vampire gave a one-armed hug to the detective, then Felix gave her a bear hug that got them swaying from side to side.

"I almost wanna go with you just to see Mason driving your car." Felix flashed a grin and Mason sneered. Alice laughed and swayed when Felix released her, Mason stabilizing her once again. Adam frowned.

"Make her drink some water."

Mason nodded before throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Ready?"

☾ 一一一一一一一一一 ☽

Alice closed her eyes as soon as Mason closed the car door, head resting against the seat as he started the engine. He let the car warm up for a few minutes.

"You're not gonna tell me?"

She rubbed her eyes, smearing her eyeshadow in the process, and groaned when she saw the black makeup on her knuckles. "What do you want to know?"

Mason shrugged. "Why did you break up?"

She hummed. "I'll tell you but you have to tell me something in exchange."

"Oh, so we're negotiating now?"

She smirked mischievously. "Why not? Let's trade secrets."

He thought about it for a moment. "Sure. You probably won't remember tomorrow anyway."

She gasped. "I will!"

"You won't." He teased. "You go first."

"We dated for two years." She sighed, the car screeching when Mason started driving to her apartment. "He was quite good at making me feel like shit about myself. And at the same time, making me feel lucky at being with someone like him, who I thought was better than me. More attractive, smarter, more charming. He could have anyone and chose me, that made me feel special." She chuckled sadly. "He reminded me that often; that he could have anyone. I was always scared that he was going to leave me. I was always anxious, clingy. I thought I loved him."

The way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel were the only sign that he was listening to her.

"He plagiarized one of my final assignments in college. His presentation was before mine, and I just couldn't believe what he had done to me. Part of me wanted to give up. But I had worked damn hard so I gathered proof about it and presented my assignment without changing anything. He had to redo it and he was furious… He dumped me on the spot. In the middle of the hall after I demonstrated his plagiarism before the teachers and the classmates." Her tone was monotonous, eyes lost somewhere on the road. "After what he had done to me, I still felt devastated. I thought he had an explanation." A pause. "I thought he loved me." Her voice turned small, and she cleared her throat. "Your turn."

When he didn't speak, Alice looked at him to see him clench his jaw. "That guy's a piece of trash, you know that, right?" His voice sounded strained with anger.

"I do now." She smiled softly. "Thank God he did something shitty enough that I couldn't let him walk over me. But… it's your turn."

Mason scoffed, letting the new information about the detective aside to think about it later. He parked the car and helped her out, climbing the stairs to her apartment in silence.

Once inside, as she took off her jacket and shoes, he finally spoke.

"I had never had sex with the same person more than once before you."

That made her blink rapidly, her mind foggy from the alcohol as she tried to focus on his carefully blank expression. Ugh, she saw two Masons. She needed to lay down.

"Why?"

A shrug. "I just didn't want to."

Okay, heart, calm the fuck down, he can hear you, she thought to herself as she walked to the bedroom, Mason on her heels.

"But you did with me?"

She sat down on the bed and he took off her shirt. "Yeah." She laid down and he unbuttoned her jeans before peeling them off.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

In her underwear, she sneaked under the covers and Mason left the room. She was starting to drift off when he came back with two glasses of water. He left one on her nightstand. "Drink." He commanded, a hand sliding under her head to help her drink the other one. She obeyed with a hum. "Got any other secrets before I go?"

Her eyes were closed but her fingers had wrapped around his wrist to bring him into bed with her. He sat down and she rested her head on his lap.

"I love you."

It was nothing but a sigh, falling from her lips so casually, so sincerely, he felt his throat dry instantly. His heart hammered for a moment before it calmed down. She's drunk, she doesn't even know what she's saying.

"Tell me that when you're sober."

Did he want to hear that again? God, he felt like his chest was too tight suddenly, his fingertips dancing an inch from her hair, not daring to touch her. Love was such a foreign word between them. His chest was heaving, the word may be foreign, but what about the feeling? Had it been love all this time?

"Sober me doesn't want you to know." She almost giggled. "She's scared you'll tell her you don't feel the same."

Now his fingers found her hair and he stroked it softly, Alice melting instantly at his touch, snuggling beside his legs. She was drifting off with a smile, the room spinning, hoping equally to remember and forget this conversation.

She didn't know for sure if the next words were said in the quiet room or if she was already dreaming.

"She has nothing to fear."

#aaaahhhh i loved writing this #thank you so much for the ask really #also exploring bobby and alice relationship!!! what a dickhead #prompts #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc m #detective alice santos #agent m #twc mason #agent mason #mason x mc #mason x detective #mason x alice #m x detective #wayhaven detective

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horsetailcurlers2 · 1 year ago

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watching grey’s anatomy for the first time after only watching private practice: another long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching (season TEN, bc i’m gonna keep doing these until someone tells me to stop)

-i guess we’re all just getting electrocuted now

-okay i never really got the mcdreamy thing to be honest but watching that man juggle…. yeah i get it

-changed my mind again he’s a stupid idiot

-cristina was really harsh but i think meredith is very much misunderstanding her point

-super random but is it weird that i kind of hate derek and meredith’s house? don’t get me wrong it’s objectively very nice but the vibes upset me. too many windows

-i adore halloween episodes. this is so fun. the musical score is insane.

-lots and lots of guest actors on this show have also been in mad men. maybe i’ll make a spreadsheet.

-a fork!!!!

-i like the OCD storyline it seems like they’re trying to do with bailey. at least so far. it’s the most interesting storyline she’s had in a while.

-arizona is kind of treating that resident girl horribly imo

-okay now meredith is just being purposefully obstinate with this whole christina situation

-so i guess we’re all just mouth kissing residents on the mouth now, huh?

-oh no i sense murphy might start to go a little off the rails

-there’s too much happening all at once! first of all, idk that i buy the chemistry between april and jackson enough for all the hoopla to make sense. second of all, i thought murphy would’ve been the one to go off the deep end. i totally should’ve foreseen ross having a breakdown. they’ve been sprinkling seeds. third of all, regarding obama just calling up derek…… okay i guess.

-NOW human resources chooses to actually involve themselves in this tomfoolery??

-the way that everyone in this show treats getting married like it’s just a fun thing to do on the weekend is driving me nuts. bc duh, jackson and april!!!!! duh you should have talked about how you want to raise your kids before you jumped into this!!

-“it’s not as if i’m insensitive to deaf culture or anything. i just think [something that is completely insensitive to deaf culture]”- jackson avery

-amelia!!! (side note i never noticed this but the shepherd sibling casting is so good. they have like the exact same eyes)

-BURKE?????

-i forgot how much this man pisses me off bc he’s comparatively much better than owen

-this scene is so interesting and part of me really wants cristina to take burke’s offer but i’m so distracted by the slow dad rock cover of “like a virgin” that they’re playing in the background. wild choice

-i will miss yang terribly but i think this is the right choice for her character

-“don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. he is very dreamy but he is not the sun. you are.” !!!!!!!!!!!! sobbing

#guys tell me at which season it’s not worth it to keep watching #my interest is kind of renewed just to see what happens to the newer characters but idk #most of the relationships bore me rn. or i want them to break up #greys anatomy #meredith grey #cristina yang #derek shepherd #miranda bailey #april kepner #jackson avery #alex karev #jo wilson #greys reactions

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

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having an affair with dad’s best friend!bucky

full masterlist

Warning: implied smut, age gap, mentions of death, a tiny bit of angst.

Summary: moving to a small town was hell but who would’ve thought that it would bring you heaven?

You recently just moved to the small town from the big city. Being a city girl and having your superficial needs constantly fulfilled, moving to this small town makes you feel isolated and bored constantly. You were used to living in a big house and going to NYC’s best private school due to your parents’ fortune, but because your grandmother was ill, your parents decided that they had to move back home to be closer to your grandma to watch over her.

Your parents held a barbecue party in their backyard and invited some of their old friends. At least the one who still lived in that godforsaken town. You planned to stay in your bedroom the whole time because you couldn’t care less about interacting with your parents’ old mates, but they forced you to join and so you did, and that’s whet you met him.

Your dad introduced you to one of his old mates. They were best mates in high school.

“Hey there, the name’s Bucky.” He smiled flirtatiously.

Holy shit.

You tried to hold your composure but you were internally starstruck. The man was gorgeous.

It turns out that you were neighbours. He lived right next to you and that’s why he and your dad were so close, they practically grew up together.

One time, you were hanging out at the local diner with your new friends and you had to leave since it was nearing your curfew. The diner wasn’t that far from your house so you walked.

Although it caused a lot of whining out of you, having used to being driven to everywhere.

The crisp autumn air made you tuck your hands into your pocket as you walked home.

Then you heard a honking sound as a car pulled up on the road.

“Hey, y/n, right?”

It was Bucky, he had a smile on his face as his window was opened.

He offered you a ride and he was on his way home himself. You were a bit reluctant at first but eventually, you got in.

You had a small talk on the way to home. He spoke about your dad, this town, and asked you about school. He wasn’t shy when dropping a few flirtatious comments though.

“Well, with a face like yours, I’m sure the boys would treat you nicely.”

“You’d know about that, don't you Mr. Barnes?”

“Just call me Bucky, sweetheart.” He winked.

You had to control your breathing so that he wouldn’t notice the way it changed when he did that.

He dropped you right in front of your house and said goodbye. He waited until you were inside to park his car in his garage. You dreamt of him that night, and not exactly an innocent one.

Days turned into months, and every time you saw each other, you got a little bit bolder. You’d sneak around to come over to his place and have a ton of hot and heavy sex.

To say he was good in bed was an understatement. He was a god. He knew how to work your body inside out, how to pleasure you and how to get you off in the precise moment.

One time you were lying in bed, basking in the afterglow of your fourth round that day and you coquettishly asked, “would you fuck me against that window?”

“As much as I’d love to show the whole town that you’re mind, I wouldn’t wanna risk giving your dad a heart attack, princess.”

To compensate it, he fucked you in the bathroom, against a shower glass door that night.

As carnal as your relationship was, you’d often talk about sentimental things too. Such as his past and how his father left when he was only six years old. His mother had to raise him and his little sister, Rebecca on her own. How Winnifred’s death three years ago still affected him to this day. And how he’d text his sister every day who was studying abroad to London to be a photographer.

You would often talk about your relationship too and where it was going. Could you make it? How’d you tell your parents about it? What would happen when you go to college and leave town? The conversations would often stretch for hours and you’d have to tiptoe your way into the house to make sure you don’t wake your parents up.

Even after spending hours with him and living next to each other, you still texted each other goodnight before you went to sleep. You dreamt of him again that night. You always dreamt of him.

You were in your last year of high school and you had been occupied with a lot of things; college applications, SAT, final exams, earning credits, prom, etc. Your mind was all over the place, and on top of that, you began to feel like Bucky was slowly drifting apart.

You didn’t blame him though. Every time Bucky would ask you to come over or when your parents were out of town for business matters, Bucky would ask you if he could come over to your house, you’d often ignore his texts or calls. Or when you do answer, you’d always say you were busy or not today. When you did have time to talk to him, you were already fatigued with homework and studying to get into your dream school.

Nate, who was a popular jock in your school asked you to be his date to prom and it wasn’t like you had a boyfriend you could publicly hold hands to prom with so eventually you had to choose one guy to be your date, and you had already rejected five guys.

Bucky knew about it and he wasn’t too happy with it. He didn’t like the idea of another man, especially one whom he viewed as if he was his understudy, touching you, holding you and dancing with you. You tried to convince him that you were only friends and that he was only going to be your prom date. Nothing more, but he still stormed out in tantrum like a child.

It had been weeks since you last talked to each other and you missed him terribly. Every time you ran into each other before you leave for school and he was leaving for work, you’d wave at him and try to greet him, but he’d always avoid eye contact with you and pretend that you weren't there at all.

You texted him to meet you in this secluded park, one that you and Bucky used to go on dates with. Bucky showed you this place and now it has become a spot of your clandestine meetings. You didn’t know if he was going to show up at all. He didn’t even reply to your text, but you still waited for him and hoped that he’d be there. You refused to believe that you two were completely done. You cared about each other too much for your story to end over juvenile things.

He was fifteen minutes late and you were losing faith. You were ready to head back home when you heard the familiar revving of his engine. He wore a black jacket and a grey shirt with blue faded underneath and he looked so damn good. Sometimes you couldn’t believe that this magnetic force of a man was yours. You were hoping that he was still yours.

“Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

You started with small talks that turned into a deeper, warmer conversation. There was a lot of unspoken words between the two of you and you wanted nothing more to apologize but what the hell would you be sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.

Bucky was the first one to apologize and he admitted that his jealousy was rational and that he had missed you so badly.

You stopped at a small bridge of the park and that’s when the unresolved issue that you both had dreaded came up again.

“We still haven’t figured out how we’re going to maintain a long-distance relationship, have we?” Bucky stopped in the middle of the pathway and leaned against the barrel of the bridge, with his arms crossing in front of his chest and his face contorted into a dejected one.

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about…” You took a deep breath, fearing that what you were about to say would only cause a further clash between the two of you. “What if you just… Leave this town and come with me to New York? You can find a new job and we can leave in my apartment and we can finally live together. Away from my parents, away from this town. We can be whoever we wanna be. We can be together.”

Bucky pondered at what you just said. He never thought about leaving this town. This town was all he knew. His ma raised him and Rebecca in that house and left him with it when she died. But you made him realize that there’s more to life than this small town and that he didn’t have to fear of change as long as he had you. And there was no one else he’d rather be with than you.

His silence stifled you. You took his lack of words as an objection but it was the opposite. He grabbed your face and kissed that nervous frown out of your face. You looked so adorable but he liked it better when you were smiling.

“New York doesn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“Does this mean you will-” You grinned.

“Yes, I’m gonna follow you wherever you go. Everyone’s gotta choose their own path, and you are my path.”

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scorsoneamelia · 3 years ago

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Can you write something like Amelia tells link about Ryan or something like that?

i watched private practice once and never even got to finish it because it was taken off of prime video literally in the middle of season 5 lmfaooo fml so i hope this doesnt seem forced!!!! tw: drugs/death ________

Ryan wasn’t someone Amelia talked about, her family didn’t know about it, most of her friends didn’t know about it. It wasn’t something she talked about. Her friends at Oceanside Wellness knew about it, mind you they were around during the time of it happening, the time when she started to spiral out of control.

It was heard about, exposed to the entire ER a few years back. When she had first got the job at Grey Sloan, a very distraught daughter of a patient that had come in from a trauma, demanding for another doctor.

“Wait..... You wanna do surgery on my mom?” Sarah asked.

“No, no, I’m sorry— but no.” The girl turned to the nurse’s desk, using both hands to lean on the countertop.

“Excuse me, I need a different doctor. She can not touch my mother.... I need a different doctor. Right now!” At this point, it drew some attention from a few other doctors in the emergency room, only a few glancing over while Amelia was trying not to break eye contact with the distraught girl, trying to calm her down— to do anything.

“Sarah,” Amelia tried. “Calm down.” Her voice was soft, mostly from embarrassment because she knew exactly why the girl didn’t trust her, and although it embarrassed Amelia, it also saddened her because she knew she was doing better and she was bothered that this girl was using her past as an advantage to get someone better, because let’s be honest, her brother was the better surgeon. Her palms were sweaty and her hands were starting to shake, anxiety pulsing through her veins and she could almost hear her heartbeat quicken, she could feel it vibrating in her chest.

“No! I want another doctor!” Her voice was louder this time and it was causing more people to turn away from their patients, all eyes drawn to the two of them. Amelia could feel everyone’s eyes on her, her brothers eyes filled with confusion, from a distance away, and she already knows the judgement everyone’s about to give her because she knew it was coming, the bomb was about to be dropped. So she prepared herself, taking a large breath in before Owen Hunt, chief of surgery (at the time) stepped in.

“What’s the problem here?” Amelia was speechless, wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do or even say. She couldn’t just walk away, could she? Can she defend herself? What is she even supposed to say?

“She cannot touch my mother, she is a drug addict,” Amelia’s blue eyes looked between Owen and Sarah, she was frustrated that this girl just stood there and exposed her secrets in front of new people, a new place, a place she came to start over; start fresh. She was also anxious because, what were these people going to think about her now? What is Derek going to think? “I can’t have her operate on my parents.”

“Dr Shepherd is a—“ Owen started, trying to defend Amelia but Sarah didn’t want to hear it, instead she interrupted him. “Is a junkie! I met her in Narcotics Anonymous, she’s hooked on oxy. She overdosed with her boyfriend and woke up with him dead in bed with her. I want... another doctor. Now!” The emergency room fell silent, everyone was staring now. Derek was looking at Amelia from a trauma room entrance, utter disbelief written all over his face. Owen’s eyebrows were pushed together and Amelia’s hands were shaking even more, there was nothing she could say, she couldn’t defend herself and she couldn’t lie.

“Please, come with me,” Owen walked up to her, trying to pull the girl to a different; more private area. “Please.”

“Keep her away from them!” She was yelling now and Owen had to pull the girl away, Amelia’s hands were shaking and her breaths were shallow and slow, she felt a lump sitting at the bottom of her throat, tears brimming the corners of her eyes. Her brother walked over, thank god, she thought, someone on her side. “Hunt, don’t worry I’ve got this.” She realized that she was awfully mistaken because Derek gave her a look, a wow, seriously? look, and instead of comforting her or saying literally anything to her, he shook his head and walked away, leaving her by herself in a room full of people who just stared at her, she couldn’t read their faces. She couldn’t tell what anyone was thinking and she felt so utterly embarrassed and shy and she just wanted to turn around and hide, hide in a corner and never come out. It wasn’t something she talked about, nothing she thought about. Well--- correction, she did think about it but she tried her best to push it to the back of her mind, burying it with the other dark memories and thoughts that often creep into her head, keeping her awake at night. Tonight was one of those nights. Link must’ve noticed her stirring in her sleep, for hours trying to make herself comfortable, tossing and turning and often letting out a huff in frustration. She couldn’t sleep, it was one of those restless nights where her mind was everywhere, thinking about everything she possibly could and she couldn’t turn it off. “Amelia,” Link mumbled, his voice raspy from being woken up, his blue eyes looking tired and heavy. “You’re still awake?” She was sitting up now, her back pressed against the baseboard of the bed and her hands were sat in her lap, they were clammy, shaking slightly and she was trying to calm down her breathing. In through her nose and out through her mouth. “Can’t sleep.” She was sniffling now, trying to hold back the tears that were trying to force their way out of her eyes. The sun was rising, lighting up the bedroom slightly, and she can see the outline of her boyfriends face. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned and he was fixing his posture now, leaning on his elbows to look up at her. “There was a man I loved,” she started, not even glancing at Link. “Ryan--- his name was Ryan. He died--- overdosed.” She corrected, she could feel Link’s body tense up beside her and that was a good enough reaction for her to keep talking. “When I lived in Seattle, I was in a dark place. I was doing pills, Oxy, and I met Ryan and we fell in love,” she glanced over at Link now, and he was staring at her, all of his attention on her. “We did drugs together, I told him stuff I’ve never told anybody, we planned a future together. We planned to get sober--- start a family.” Her hands were shaking and Link’s free hand reached over and placed it over hers, a way to try and calm her down. Four kids, two boys, two girls. You can’t die because we’re gonna get clean and we’re gonna have a family. “There was one night--- the night we planned to get sober together, I wanted to do the pills we had left,” she cried. “One last time. I talked him into it and when I woke up, he was dead-- overdosed and aspirated on his own vomit.” Link was sitting next to her now, trying to sit as close as he could be, pulling her into his side, kissing on the top of her head while she let out painful cries. “I don’t talk about it,” she was shaking, her whole body trembling. “I haven’t told anyone that.” Besides Owen, she never even talked to her own brother about it. Link was holding both of her hands in his, trying to make them stop shaking. “Amelia,” he tried. “That’s your past, and you don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to explain anything.” Her eyes met his. “I love you, Amelia and I love Scout and I love what we have, and I will never judge you for your past.” A tear dripped off of her eyelashes and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself fall into his side. “I love you and it’s not your fault that he died, sometimes things happen that are out of our control.” She loved him. God, did she ever love Link. He was just holding her, and she knew he wasn’t lying when he said that he wasn’t ever going to judge him. He was genuine and that’s why she fell in love with him. He had a way of calming her down, and he was always there--- always knew what to do and what to say, even though sometimes he acted like he didn’t. She’s almost glad she told him, it was like the weight was lifted off of her shoulders and the reaction she got out of him wasn’t like everyone else’s, his was good. She felt safe, and calm and she felt like she could trust him with anything. He was the one for her, she was truly in love with him.

#ameliashepherd #amelia x link #amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomyfics #ameliafics #amelia #link and amelia #amelia and link #private practice #stories

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mrs-nate-humphrey · 3 years ago

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What do you feel about amandamaryanna’s video on gossip girl and cosplaying poor? It reminds me of those tik tok videos that are about the most insane rich person behavior you’ve experienced. I feel like it’s subjective because the characters Dan Vanessa and Zoya are basing their poor ness around THEIR environment. So yes, there are MANY people who are actually poor but compared to their UES counterparts they would be considered “poor” due to the fact that they do not have the insane amount of disposable wealth that the other characters have and I do not really see that as them trying to cosplay as poor.

Also what are your thoughts on her argument on GG not really talking about class consciousness and POC issues. Even though the characters Ursula, Jane and Raina had short appearances on the show, as a Black person I think that is was great that they added the few POC characters on GG because their identity was not the main focus of their characters. Usually with Black or POC characters they have to go through some racial turmoil as part of the plot and in GG they got to be rich UES-ers simply because they are. Even though GG is very verryy flawed Penelope, Nelly, Kati, Isabelle and Zoe were shown how POC characters can be rich like the white characters in the show as well GG is obviously a fictional show that’s not based on anything so I don’t think that racial income statistics/racial implications need to be talked about 24/7.

so i started watching this video & just ended up reading the transcript instead. anyway. under a read more:

like, yes. i agree with her on one hand - i think gossip girl 2007 messed up by making dan's grievances be connected to financial status, because the humphreys certainly weren't "poor". like i think this point she says makes sense to an extent:

The comparison between outsiders and insiders and gossip girl is all about relativity. To the average viewer it seems absurd that a character like Dan is supposed to represent the outsider when he is so farther in than any of us could get.

But honestly, something i hate is how people who talk about this show act as if everyone who's watching is expected to know the prices of rent in new york city, etc. like i did NOT realise how expensive that loft is until someone else mentioned it to me and i would not have guessed! who is your "average viewer" - is it an American? someone who lives in New York? someone who lives in Brooklyn? you can't just define an average viewer in that way, i feel! like you are making a BIG Assumption there and it's not necessarily accurate. people who aren't american watch american tv! such is the world we are living in.

but keeping that aside, yeah: dan and jenny had stable and secure housing, the guarantee of meals, and were attending expensive private schools, so i think the show's messaging regarding class was a little strange. they definitely weren't in a financially unstable situation.

but also, you're right. like, dan and jenny weren't super duper broke, and at no point do they actually act like they are, tbh. dan is very 'oh my parents sacrificed so much to send me to st jude's' and jenny is very 'damn i wish i was richer' but there isn't really an instance where the humphreys seem to view themselves as being extremely poor, that i remember at least. in s1, jenny says something along the lines of, "we're humphreys; we're not exactly royalty." and like. she is not wrong! they're financially stable kids, but they're ordinary kids living in an environment where everyone else has the safety net of millionnaire parents to fall back on, and however much money rufus has, he isn't that.

so i think it's a grey area, like, YES, the humphreys have wealth related privilege (i don't know if this can be said for v, because honestly we don't know much about her living situation, but we do know that she works as a waitress for a bit in s1, and also that she's homeschooled, so she isn't shelling out big $$ for school fees.) but also dan and jenny are treated as 'less than' because they are considered nobodies.

and i feel like THAT is the angle the show should have taken. not "i am oppressed because i am not rich" but rather, "everyone at school alienates me and treats me different and it's making things so difficult for me." whenever people say that dan and jenny acted like they were more oppressed than they actually were i'm like. they were both, in different ways, made to feel small and insecure and hopeless, at school? like of COURSE they're gonna feel victimised. dan is treated like he doesn't exist, and jenny is treated so horribly that i don't even have an adjective. like. i think the writing of the show would've been much stronger if it had focused on THAT and not made it a class thing.

i haven't watched the reboot beyond ep02, so i'm not gonna comment on that.

so yeah, i don't think it was 'cosplaying poor' as much as it was 'showing wealth related stuff extremely inaccurately.' like an anon told me, portraying nyu as community college is super inaccurate, as well. and it makes no sense? like i don't know why they had to do this and why they couldn't just... shoot at a regular community college. gossip girl 2007 did not care for representing poor people at all, like, if you watch the show you can tell that it just luxuriates in this aesthetic of like: more food than anybody can eat at every meal. so many luxuries. unnecessarily expensive things everywhere. like the show was very much luxury porn. to me it felt like it wasn't cosplaying poor as much as it was offering people a chance to wank off to the rich. & maybe because of that, the humphreys weren't allowed to be poorer. gg 2007 wasn't supposed to represent all of NY, it was supposed to represent the uber rich elite. and then you have dan and jenny humphrey, and vanessa abrams. they weren't allowed to be rich, because we needed a class conflict. but they weren't allowed to be poor, either, because this show was all about rich people aesthetics. so we got something weird & in the middle instead.

people forget that chuck was canonically a billionnaire - like, that is a LOT of money. and he is dan & jenny's peer! sadly, i think solely because of THAT, a lot of the oppression the humphreys face... checks out. like chuck being shitty to both dan and jenny - he' has an unethical, absurd, uncomparable-to-whatever-the-humphreys-have amount of money. he can do whatever he wants & buy his way out of there. rufus humphrey's ten thousand dollars or whatever amount he mentions are like pocket change to that guy. if jenny is gonna be treated like a commodity by everyone around her, do her upper middle class roots and expensive loft really matter? well, not do they matter as much as like. can they protect her? (we've watched the show. we know the answer is no.)

re: the characters of colour... i think it's subjective. i ADORE raina, and honestly, if we'd had a NJBC that was nate, serena, blair & raina, the show would've actually been AMAZING. like raina was such a cool character to me - i liked that she was driven, passionate, intelligent, sensitive, caring, fun-loving, thoughtful.... she wasn't on the show for long, but her character felt really solid and fleshed out. i remember a review (idk who wrote this one) in which someone felt that raina's character was "lazy" because a lot of her traits and her backstory paralleled chuck, but i strongly disagree. on raina, those traits were interesting. on chuck, any backstory and larger motive felt like a carpet to cover the dust that was his predatory nature, and to me, felt forced and off. like. this dude assaulted people, i don't care about his daddy issues. but raina seemed SO amazing. her backstory actually fit her personality and gave her depth, and to me, didn't feel forced.

i liked ursula, too! she was a really minor character, but she had a whole arc, and i liked that a LOT. her friendship with serena was very cute! i sadly do not remember jane. i think she was... someone's assistant? but i don't remember who. but i agree with you about raina and ursula, their arcs were very interesting and did not end up being about racial trauma & all that, which, like you said, is refreshing when done right.

that said, i think blair's minions were, uh, an example of blair's racism, and i think it would've been cool if the show unpacked that. blair uses her minions as a status symbol - her 17th birthday at kati's place which is anime themed (?) leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it feels very tokenising of a culture that blair isn't a part of? it would be different if blair treated her minions with respect and dignity and like they were her equals and peers, but she doesn't. the word "minions" itself makes me flinch because it's such a "oh you're inferior" kind of word. it felt to me very much like - they never got to be characters in their own right. they solely existed to prop up blair. and i think that is racist. there was a sense of "Oh, I can't be racist! I have a Black friend and an Asian friend" from Blair - like that's what kati & is were to her. and i think that is a big problem, especially glossed over like that.

i also do think that racial stuff doesn't always need to be the focus! but i don't think it can ever be completely ignored, either. an example of something that is maybe unintentionally racist, but racist nonetheless, is how dan cuts vanessa out of his life entirely but forgives his white friends for treating him farrrr worse. it's an inherent double standard, because dan kind of went "oh yeah. my threshold for white people fucking me over is really high, but if my Black best friend who's so close we're practically family does something even slightly wrong i'm going to cut her out of my life 4ever." did the writers realise this? i don't know. maybe they just didn't think about it. but this is exactly the sort of double standards and racist bullshit that woc, especially Black women, have to face irl (though of course i don't need to tell you that at all), except here, the narrative doesn't even address that, hey, maybe dan's being a dick by reacting this way. and i think that's a problem, too.

#long post #meta #racism #anti blair waldorf #(for tags)#anti gossip girl #ok 2 rb i GUESS #and if any poc want to add something more or correct me please do #ditto the class stuff - i am not american #and really just working with context clues

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datawyrms · 5 years ago

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Weathering the Storm

Dannymay2020 day 23: Lightning (AO3)

It was odd to see Danny so clearly aggravated when not in class, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as if the world has personally offended him this morning. “I mean it, when I find Johnny I’m shoving his Shadow down his throat for this.”

“It’s just bad luck Danny, it can’t be that much trouble,” Tucker didn’t seem all that concerned about his mood, and it stuck the teacher as rather odd. The Fenton boy was a chronic work dodger and consistently late, but threatening people by name was new. He had dismissed the boy’s brush with destructive tendencies as a one off thing as the behaviour had not continued, but perhaps he had been too hasty. Even if the threat was ultimately nonsensical, the vehemence had sounded quite real.

The boy scowled at his friend, “I got struck by lig-” he broke off mid sentence as his eyes caught sight of Mr. Lancer. Was he afraid that his teacher was overhearing him? He had dropped his arms and somehow slouched more, doing his best to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. Had he done something to cause such fear in his student? He could think of a few incidents that would make the boy dislike him, certainly, but not fear him.

“Hi Mr. Lancer!” Tucker showed no such hesitation, moving as if to block his blue eyed friend from his sightline. “The report isn’t due until next Monday, right?”

“That’s correct Mr. Foley. If you have it completed by Friday I’d be happy to suggest improvements you could make over the weekend,” he answered, not that the boy would do that. He’d extended the offer several times, and the little trio didn’t seem all that interested in actually using it.

“Thanks, just had to check!”

Tucker had been acting as a distraction almost, seeing as Sam and Danny had slunk away as he’d taken up most of Mr. Lancer’s attention. It was odd. Did they really think they had to go to such lengths? Danny’s words had been a little concerning, but not something to think he’d be punished over. He would simply need to keep an eye on them today, if he was unintentionally causing fear he had a duty to correct that. The boy had enough trouble learning as it was.

Mr. Fenton was incredibly jumpy. Usually he’d slump at his desk to the point one could argue the lad did not even possess a spine. Today he seemed almost hyper alert, eyes darting and fingers constantly fiddling with a pencil or paper as the heavy rain battered against the windows. Yet whatever he was on such high alert for, it wasn’t what they were discussing, his answers just as lost and confused as they were when he was half asleep. He was starting to worry it was indeed his presence getting the child so distressed until a booming crack of thunder followed by a blinding flash of lightning from the storm outside painted a very different picture.

He’d practically slammed his head into his desk, hands over his head while looking as stiff as a board. Even when the moment passed the black haired boy was slow to uncurl, only doing so fully after getting some sort of affirmative nod from Tucker or Sam.

When had he gotten such a strong fear of thunderstorms? The last time such a storm had come to Amity Park he had been perfectly fine. Or at least, had not reacted this strongly. If he was struggling to focus because of the storm, he had to do something to help.

“Mr. Fenton, a word please?” he said as Danny attempted to slide out the door at the end of class.

“Yes?” his teeth were gritted, the rest of his body language still reading as terribly stiff, almost like an over-tightened string.

He waited a moment before responding, not wanting to embarrass him by having other students overhear the question. “Is it the sound or the light that bothers you?” Danny wasn’t one to answer questions at the best of times, so being direct was an unfortunate consequence.

“The-what?” His brow furrowed, fingers clenching around the backpack more tightly. He did seem genuinely confused, but it could just be his teenaged pride not wanting to admit he had a phobia.

“I do not wish to embarrass you Mr. Fenton, but your reactions to the thunderstorm outside have been rather noticeable,” the boy squirmed a little on the spot, eyes darting at the door as if wondering if he could make a run for it, “Would studying in a room without windows help with that?”

“I’m not afraid of thunderstorms.” he looked away, hand clutching at his shoulder. The rolling rumble of thunder warning that another bolt was coming made the boy visibly flinch, turning and darting out of the room without being dismissed.

He couldn’t force him to take offered help, but couldn’t understand who Danny thought he was fooling. People who were safely indoors did not usually run from thunderclaps. If he thought his friends would be more forthcoming he would consult with them, but they had proven to be just as stubborn. Still, there was plenty of school day left. The boy might change his mind.

“Why does he have to pay attention to me today of all days?” The half ghost moaned, face buried in his palms, lunch untouched.

“I told you not to break his motorcycle.”

“I’m going to shove it in a thermos and bury it next time,” his eyes flared a brilliant green, a helpful elbow from Tucker making him cover his face again.

“Is the bad luck making the flare ups worse?” Sam frowned at the muffled green light, eyes watching the rest of the noisy cafeteria.

“Sorta?” Danny managed to look up, returning to rubbing at his shoulder. “I got hit by lightning on the way here.”

Tucker winced in sympathy. “Owch.”

“Three times.”

“I’d wonder how you survived that but this is you we’re talking about.” Sam still looked concerned, fiddling with a wristband.

“My ectoplasm just loves it apparently. I don’t think I’ve been this wide awake in months,” he returned to bouncing his leg up and down, as if unable to keep still.

“You gonna eat that?”

He shook his head. “I’m not even close to hungry, go nuts.”

Tucker helped himself to the untouched meal “You feeling okay though? That still had to hurt.”

“Other than feeling like I’ve been chugging coffee all day, yeah.”

“Which is why you keep rubbing at your shoulder. Because you feel fine.” Sam scowled as the half ghost looked at the ceiling.

“I do, really. I can just. Feel the lightning coming and it throbs a bit. It’s more annoying than anything.”

“Creepy. The scars start showing up again?” Tucker leaned closer, eyes narrowing at his friend’s neck.

Danny snorted, batting his friend away. “They’re not green at least. Yet.”

“Maybe you should just put the sweater on now then? Unless you want someone to notice you have scars on your arms that weren’t there this morning.”

“It’s so hot in that thing! It’s in my backpack, don’t worry about it.” he stopped mid shrug, wincing seconds before a flash of lighting.

“Hair.”

The now white haired boy ducked down, muttering crossly as he fumbled with his bag.

“Good thing no one pays attention to the loser squad.” Tucker managed to keep back a laugh by confirming absolutely no one had noticed his friend's sudden dye job.

“No kidding.” Danny groused, reappearing with sweater in hand, hair back to it’s natural black. “If this keeps up I’m going to start falling through things again.”

Sam bit her lip. “Maybe you should just skip?”

“And go where? Outside and get struck some more? No thanks. With my luck I’d get mode locked or something.”

“You could just stay invisible.”

The hybrid considered it, but shook his head. “If I’m stuck here I might as well get credit for it.”

“Well if you start glowing, I don’t have any idea why,” Sam warned, earning a small chuckle from the both of them.

Danny’s anxious behaviour only seemed to intensify throughout the day. He stuck close to his two friends as usual, but was never completely still, always moving or jiggling, eyes always darting around as if he had to stay alert from an unknown threat. Just watching him was exhausting. For someone who insisted he was not frightened, he was grabbing on to Sam or Tucker with surprising regularity. The two of them didn’t seem to mind, almost as if they were used to this sort of thing. Strange. By the end of the day the boy was bundled up in some oversized sweater, which only made him look even more pale and stressed out. Perhaps he could suggest private study time for days like this to Jazz, he might listen to his elder sister.

Well, he probably wouldn’t, but not doing anything was giving him that terrible twisting guilt gut that did not care if he couldn’t force help upon people who refused it. He would suggest it tomorrow if this behaviour continued. The final bell was practically a blessing, the school quieting as teacher and student alike filed out into the dreadful weather, colourful umbrellas giving a small reprieve from all the grey. Usually he had to stay longer because of a detention, but the lousy weather seemed to curb any desire to skip out on class. Small blessings. With a folder snugly underarm and umbrella in hand he headed towards the exit closest to his car and froze.

Danny was still here? He could barely make the boy stay in class when it was in session, and here he was lurking near the exit like some sort of frightened cat.

“Mr. Fenton?”

The boy lept in surprise, back slamming against the wall as if he had to escape quickly. Yet he didn’t seem to be holding anything to cause trouble with. Just himself, the beat up backpack, and the sweater he was doing his best to melt into. “Mr. Lancer?” his voice was almost a squeak.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I notice you don’t have an umbrella.” Perhaps sticking to facts and not suggesting the boy was scared could convince him to take some help this time. He practically looked to be on the verge of a panic attack.

“Oh! Yeah! Forgot it, I’m fine.” he sputtered, but the speed of his breathing slowed. He’d been that startled?

“I have a spare if you need it. Do you plan to walk home?”

The pale boy squirmed under his gaze, eyes darting behind him occasionally. “I’m fine. Jazz can give me a ride.”

The teacher looked out the window and frowned. “I don’t see her car Mr. Fenton. Did you forget to ask her to wait?”

He swallowed, apparently not expecting to be caught in his lie. “Must have. It’s okay, she’ll come back.”

Lancer crossed his arms, trying not to sigh. Why did teenagers insist on being so bullheaded? “There’s no reason to force her to come back. I’ll give you a lift.”

Danny looked as if he’d offered to chop his head off rather than provide a dry way home. “No it’s okay! Thanks though. I’m good.”

“Are you too afraid to go outside right now?” The question was blunt, but it was only the two of them, and he wasn’t going to leave a terrified boy alone in a darkened school because he said he was ‘okay’.

“I’m not afraid!” he insisted, grabbing at his shoulder yet again. A tell to his lies? “Really, I’m fine and she’s already coming.”

“Then I suppose I’ll wait with you until she arrives.”

His wince was expected. “Y-you don’t need to do that.”

“Oh but I do Mr. Fenton. I will not leave a student unattended after hours, making sure you leave safely is in my job description.” That, and keeping him from causing trouble in the school unobserved was also part of the job.

“Could you like. Not do your job then? Please?” he slumped at Lancer’s significant stare. “Didn’t think so.”

“Do you plan to wait until the storm passes? It could go on all night Mr. Fenton.” To be so afraid as to not even walk to where a car would be waiting was incredibly severe, and it wasn’t sitting quite right with him. He almost seemed more afraid of being observed than anything. Did his parents discourage showing any kind of fear? No, everyone knew the boy was afraid of ghosts, so it didn’t add up.

“No. I’m just waiting for you to mind your own business.” he muttered into his sweater, arms crossed in his own little act of defiance.

“Unfortunately for you, your well being is my business while you’re here.”

“Unless Dash is involved, then I’m invisible.”

He could have sworn the boy’s eyes changed for a moment there, amplifying the bitterness in the child’s tone. “I was under the impression he had stopped, as you haven’t brought it up since.”

That got a laugh, though his eyes remained icy. “Nope.”

Too many students and not enough eyes. He couldn’t know everything, though it would explain why he wouldn’t be more open, if he was under the impression he would be ignored. “You can tell me about it now, and I can look into it.”

“No thanks.” he rubbed at the same shoulder, brow creased in what looked to be pain.

Always rejecting help. Well, he’d at least make sure he wasn’t alone until he chose to leave.

It was a good thing he had, too. The latest flash of lighting prompted a grunt from the teenager, who appeared to have tripped over his own feet. So badly that he couldn’t even see the foot that must have twisted, he might have broken something. He managed to catch him before he hit the floor, wondering how the boy felt so cold even when bundled up in the sweater. “‘The Metamorphosis’ Mr Fenton, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” he squirmed out of his teacher’s outstretched arms, standing easily on a foot he could have sworn must have twisted too far to be uninjured. “I just tripped, sheesh!”

Yet in his speed to be on his own to feet the sweater had shifted, granting Lancer a glimpse of his arms. Angry green scars that seemed to glow with their own light made the boy’s fear of lightning suddenly very understandable.

After all, they knew there had been an accident, but not what it had entailed.

“You were electrocuted, Mr Fenton?”

The boy gulped, hastily hiding the scars as if it was some sort of dirty secret. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t have to be fine. ‘Great Expectations’ Danny, it is perfectly understandable to be frightened if you had a serious accident involving electricity.”

The boy blinked at him. “What. You-you’re not weirded out?”

Was he embarrassed because the scars were green? Honestly, teenagers. “I assume whatever accident you were in involved your family’s inventions. Considering I see ghosts every other day, ghostly electricity scars seem almost quaint, Mr Fenton.” Sure, he did question how it had happened, and had some serious concerns about his family’s safety practices, but it was more important to let him know he would not judge him over this little affliction. “I suppose they only show up in weather like this?”

“Mmhm. It’s no big deal, really.”

No big deal he says, while acting like a jackrabbit all day. “It does make your hesitation to go out with lightning striking understandable. However, it would be better if we could get you home. Would bringing the car closer help?”

The boy groaned again, rubbing at his forehead. “Sure. I guess.”

“I’ll be right back then.”

Which he was, pulling the car right to the curb was easy enough. Yet Danny had up and vanished. He probably should have expected that, the boy was incredibly slippery when he wanted to be. He hadn’t spotted him leaving, yet he could spot muddy footprints being washed away by the unyielding rain. Where had he snuck off to? Further pondering was lost to the sound of someone yelling in pain, and it felt uncomfortably familiar. The voice’s owner couldn’t be far, so he gripped his umbrella tight and went to check it out.

“Four times? Whoever said lighting doesn’t strike twice is a dirty liar, and I hate them.” Phantom was muttering furiously at the ground, sparks cracking around his white aura. “Stupid Shadow.”

Well, the ghost was a teenager. At least he seemed to be more annoyed than seriously hurt, the scream had been rather unpleasant. Probably best to leave the ghost alone. He seemed nice enough, but the constant warning from the Fentons did make one a bit wary. If his help was just an act, being alone with him was probably not the safest thing in the world. Yet as the ghost took flight something about him struck him as oddly familiar. Had there been glowing green scars on the ghost’s neck? No, the ghost was always glowing, and the idea was absurd. He must have been mistaken.

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Mr. Lancer #sam manson #Tucker Foley #my stuff #this got overlong again #curse you lancer #you're just fun to write #while danny is just 'i have an ice core why do i react to thunderstorms this is dumb'#because you got shocked son #and i can headcannon anything i want dang it

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