#guess who forgot the good pens again and had to make do with sharpie

[chiropteracupola]

scribbling him for the occasion of the 25th of october

#em draws stuff #henry v 1989 #dawntreader texas halboy... #guess who forgot the good pens again and had to make do with sharpie #apologies to everyone around me who had to inhale fumes of chemical marker #for this one I was Actively trying to stylize so as to escape the fact that I seem to have been doing fairly good likenesses of mr k.b. #and I do not think I particularly succeeded... well! I definitely did bring this upon myself and I guess I shall have to live with it #rewatched it last night and it became too much for me and I had to pause and go outside and wander around at 1am and cry #overwrought for a variety of reasons on account of the everything and sometimes you just need to be weird about it #st crispin and all that; the seasonal brain whatsits have slammed into me like a very large train #the agonies have lessened somewhat as they simmer in the soup of time but they are still definitely agonizing

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 3

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM.

Good girl. 

Those two simple words make your core fire up with need. Never was anyone able to do that with just two little words. 

Loki his hand creeps up until it's in your hair. He pulls making your head fly back so you can look at him. ‘’Rule number two, always say please and thank you.’’ ‘’Yes master,’’ you whisper again. 

‘’Three, always obey master.’’ ‘’I understand.’’ He lets go of you and takes a step back. ‘’Well then, kneel before me.’’ Slowly you get up from your chair not completely sure of what to do. You walk towards him and lower to your knees. 

Loki lowers himself to your level and looks at your attempt. Knees close together and your palms on them. Not bad, but not good either. 

‘’This is what I mean, little one. Part your knees and lay the back of your hands on your knees.’’ You do as he says while staring at the ground. Hopefully, you did well this time. ‘’Better,’’ he mumbles while straightening up. 

Loki walks towards his computer and looks some things up until you suddenly hear the printer again. ‘’You have clearly never heard of a contract in this industry so I guess I will have to teach you that as well.’’ He takes it from the white machine and walks towards a chair. He sits down and asks you to come to him. 

He hands you the few papers. You take a quick look but Loki already takes up the attention. ‘’Sit down and read through it carefully. Everything you don’t accept, cross it out. This will make sure you are safe, understood?’’ ‘’Yes… master.’’ ‘’Good. Go then.’’ 

Quickly you rush to the chair you just sat in and start reading. Most things sound fine- thrilling even- to you but there were one or two things that went too far for your liking so you took a Sharpie and crossed it out as Loki said. When you are done you return it to Loki. 

‘’Good,’’ he mumbles as he looks at what you got rid off. He walks to his desk again and commands you to sit down again. The whole time you just stare at him with large eyes. Loki also crosses some things out and then goes to the final page. He writes his own full name and then yours. A signature is required afterwards. He puts down his and then gives you the pen. 

You put down the simple signature before returning the professor his pen. ‘’Thank you,’’ he sighs putting it away. ‘’This will be binding then. You are my submissive and will do as I say. Understand that if you leak any of this I will go to the dean and make sure you are ruined, understood?’’ ‘’Yes of course,’’ you quickly reply bowing your head. 

‘’Good girl. You can go to your class now. I do expect you after class,’’ he groans putting away the contract in a safe space. ‘’Yes, I will.’’ Loki gives you an expecting look. ‘’Yes who?’’ 

‘’Yes master,’’ you quickly adjust your answer, ‘’I will.’’ ‘’Within these walls I am your master unless I tell you otherwise. Now go!’’ You nod again and rush out of the room. 

Well, that was an experience! 

You rush to your class where you find Dimitri waiting with your coffee. ‘’Oh my God, where have you been,’’ he whispers since the class has already started. ‘’Professor Laufeyson needed me.’’ Dimitri frowns deeply at your answer. 

‘’Why?’’ You bite your lip and look at your desk. ‘’I forgot to disconnect my laptop from his printer so I accidentally printed out a shit load of papers…’’ He chuckles a bit and gives you the latté that must be almost cold now. ‘’Of course, that happens to you. I assume he wasn’t happy about it?’’ You let out a fake laugh. ‘’Not really…’’

The day goes slow and fast at the same time. The classes seem to pass you in a haze but you can’t wait for this day to be over. Second seem like hours at a time but eventually, there it is… The end of the day. 

 You knock on the hard wooden door that leads to Professor Laufeysons office. ‘’Come in,’’ you hear him call. You clutch the papers you started grading for him to your chest as you open the door. You walk in and close the door behind you. 

‘’Lock it, pet,’’ Loki speaks without looking up. You do as he asks and walk to his desk. ‘’I got these for you…’’ You lay the papers down for him and then take a step back for me. ‘’I don’t react without proper adressmend,’’ he mumbles while reading a letter.

You take a deep breath before speaking again. ‘’Master, I have the papers you asked for.’’ You bite your lip while waiting for his answer. ‘’Good girl,’’ he speaks putting away his things. ‘’Come here.’’ He holds out his hand for you with an intense stare. 

With shaking knees you walk around the desk towards him. Gently you lay your hand into his. Loki is swift to pull you closer to in between his knees. ‘’Kneel, little one.’’ Quickly you obey and drop to your knees not taking your eyes off of him. 

‘’I need you to relax around me,’’ he gently speaks while laying his fingers around your chin, ‘’do you trust me?’’ ‘’Yes, master.’’ ‘’Well then, I’ve noticed that you are nervous around me. Why is that, my pet?’’ You take a deep breath before answering. 

‘’I’m scared to do something wrong, master.’’ He runs his other hand through your hair and pulls up his brows. ‘’No need for that. If you do something wrong I’ll let you know and give you time to redo it or adjust. It is, however, a good thing that you want to please me, isn’t it.’’ ‘’Yes master.’’ 

He smiles. 

The first time you ever saw him smile! You give him one in return while staring up at him. He keeps petting your head to relax you and soon it starts to work. ‘’We need to make sure you feel comfortable around me, pet,’’ he mumbles and gets up. 

He walks towards his fireplace and takes the spirit that is placed on top of it. The professor takes a quick sip without offering you. ‘’Come here,’’ he commands again. You bey him once more being quiet. 

Loki closes in on you and lays his hands on your hips. Your breath stops for just a second. He never touched you there before… His hands travel to the seem of your shirt and start to pull it off. ‘’Arms up.’’ When you do he completely pulls the shirt off of you leaving you in your bra. 

His arm snakes around your waist to unclasp your bra. He slowly lets it slide down your arms and your breast. The clothing article is dropped to the floor as well. Loki his hand grazes your collarbone while studying your half-naked body. 

Loki then lowers himself to one knee and starts to open your trousers. You swallow thickly feeling nervous. You only had one or two relationships before of which one included nudity- usually in the dark. 

He pulls the fabric down your legs. Your muscles tense up at the contact as you try to hide yourself a little with your arms. Loki his right-hand slithers around your ankle and lifts your foot. He pulls the last bit of fabric from your legs and straightens up again. You are only wearing pants now and slightly hope to keep those. 

‘’There.’’ He takes your wrist and pulls your hands your body. ‘’Don’t hide, little one, not for master.’’ A wave of excitement goes down your body straight to your core. ‘’Yes, master.’’ He smirks a bit at you and lays his hand on your cheek. ‘’Good girl.’’ He kisses your forehead and then leads you towards the fireplace. ‘’We don’t want you to get cold now, do we.’’ He lets you sit on the warm carpet and even gives you a book to read. 

No blanket or clothes to cover up, however. 

You honestly try to concentrate on reading the book but Loki is just too big a distraction. Add the nervous and excitement of the whole situation and it results in you being a wreck. You put the book away biting your lip unsure of what to do. Should you just ask for something to do?

You suppose so? 

‘’Master,’’ you breathe out. ‘’Yes, pet.’’ ‘’I can’t concentrate…’’ He looks up at you and grins a bit. ‘’What do you suppose I do about that?’’ Tickly you swallow and shrug. ‘’I don’t know… I’m sorry.’’ He stands up and rushes towards you. 

‘’Don’t be. How are you feeling? Comfortable?’’ Shorty you nod. After being naked in front of him for such a long time your barely notice it any more ‘’Yes.’’ ‘’Good girl.’’ He takes your hand and has you stand up. 

He takes his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. ‘’Back to your duties then.’’ He then just has you grade papers and other things. Eventually makes you get dressed again and leave. 

When you get home you sit down on your bed. What just happened? He barely touched you but you feel like you’re on fire. You pull your knees up and then simply lay down… thinking. 

All kinds of things fly your head until your phone buzzes. You take a look and see that it’s a text from professor Laufeyson. Quickly you open it to find a simple question. 

Professor Laufeyson. Have you eaten dinner yet? 

You. No, I haven’t

Professor Laufeyson. No, master. Make sure you do before eight!

You look at the clock. Seven thirty already! You have been home for an hour? You hadn’t even noticed. The professor had occupied your mind so much the time had slipped from you. 

You.

I try my best, master.’’ 

Professor Laufeyson. Don’t try. Do it. I expect a photo before eight.

You jump up and run to your kitchen. When your right in the middle of getting pots and pans your phone buzzes once again. You grab your phone and look. 

Professor Laufeuson. It better be healthy, little one! 

Your eyes widen at his demand. Is he really asking a broke college student to make a healthy meal within half an hour? Is he joking? What is he going to do if you don’t? You scoff and put all of your stuff away again. 

You eat breakfast, you promise yourself and then go to watch a movie again. It is too late in the evening to still cook or eat! At precisely eight your damned mobile phone buzzes again.

Professor Laufeyson. Times up. What are you eating?

You don’t react. You’ll just say your phone died or something. He can’t force you to eat! 

Professor Laufeyson Pet?

Answer me!

You’ll pay for it if you don’t obey!

That’s it, chances are up.

The messages flood in every few minutes until you turn your phone off. Geez, this guy is intense… Something about it gives a pleasant tingle deep in your chest but your head tells you to ignore it. So you do. 

The next day you turn your phone back on and see that Loki send you some more angry messages. You ignore it again but start to feel a little nervous about seeing him this afternoon. 

You go to your classes and slightly hind behind your large best friend when walking in. He frowns deeply when he notices. ‘’You okay,’’ Dimitri asks heaving his bag a little more onto his shoulder. ‘’Yeah, fine.’’ 

‘’Is the professor getting too much for you already,’’ he chuckles after passing the stern man. You did notice his angry glare at you but then again, his face is always angry… ‘’I might have pissed him off a little. I didn’t finish some work even though I had the whole weekend.’’ He laughs loudly at you. ‘’I’m sorry, babe,’’ he screeches when he arrives at your seats in the back. 

‘’It isn’t funny! He’s going to kill me after class.’’ You lean against his arm and bury your face in his sleeve. ‘’What are you doing this afternoon,’’ you ask, ‘’wanna meet up?’’ ‘’Oh no,’’ he calls out with a smirk, ‘’you are not using me to escape his wrath! Even if I wanted to do that, I have football practice.’’ You groan and cuddle up close with him. He wraps his arm around you and gives you a smile. 

You love Dimitri. He is your best friend of four years now and if anyone saw you that didn't know you they would swear you’re a couple. You’re not, however, just very close and touchy. Probably because the both of you have been touch starved all your life and now try to make up for that. 

‘’Just remember that he isn’t allowed to touch you, okay?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ Yeah… No. 

‘’Miss Y/L/N,’’ Professor Laufeyson then suddenly calls out. ‘’Would you like to join me on the first row, please? Maybe you can pay attention to me then instead of your boyfriend.’’ Your eyes widen when he asks that. Oh no…

You sit up and look at the front row that is- as usual- empty. You grab your bag onto your shoulder and walk up to the front row at- of course- the middle seat. You quickly obey before you get into even more trouble. ‘’He’s not my boyfriend,’’ you mumble while sitting down. ‘’I certainly don’t hope so,’’ Loki whispers back and then finally starts his class. 

At some point, you manage to get your phone out and in front of your book so you hope Loki won’t see it.

You. Help me! He stares at me the whole time!

Dimitri. You really pissed him off, didn’t you? Sorry that I can’t help you. Maybe he’ll go easy on you from now on?

The moment you want to start typing again a large hand grabs your phone. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, can I conduct from this that my classes are so boring your last option is a mobile phone? No note making or reading can keep you suited?’’ You bite your lip again and quickly apologize. ‘’You get this one back when you go home.’’ He puts it in his back pocket and then continues his lesson. 

You’re so screwed… 

#loki #lokilaufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki fanfic #lokifanfic #loki fandom #lokixreader smut #lokixreader #lokixstudent #lokiodinson #marvel #loki god of mischief

[boop-le-snoot]

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

#loki x reader #Loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #it's 4am y'all #we be THIRSTY

[cutie1365]

A Kid from Queens Part 14

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Hopefully another chapter coming soon, let's keep the quarantine going strong before online classes start.

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

To say you were keeping busy would be an understatement. If Linda wasn’t dragging you from photoshoot to photoshoot, you were in your lab in your apartment, dissecting the data you’d collected from Thomas’ servers.

The first thing you noticed was an incredible level of encryption. Seriously, the firewalls at their residence rivaled what you used at Stark Industries. That wasn’t a good sign, they were definitely hiding something.

It took you days to follow the money trail, finally finding their private account. They’d been careful, using bitcoin and other nearly untraceable cryptocurrency. Nearly untraceable, but you’d cracked the code. It looked like over the past few months the mayor has been funneling in larger and larger amounts, but you noticed a bimonthly withdrawal to the same anonymous source. It was the only movement of funds outside of the account, all other transactions had been moving money in. Your brain hurt from staring at your screen so long. You knew it would take a few more hours for Friday to track the transaction, and you were overdue for a break.

“F.R.I., trace these transactions, get me an IP address, see who it’s registered to and if we have files on them. I want to know what he’s buying.” You instructed, slipping your coat on, and heading out of your apartment.

“You got it boss.” The AI responded.

As you made your way into the park below to clear your head, you noticed a bodega at the entrance. Maybe coffee would be a good idea, you needed the energy, you could sense it was going to be a long night.

As you ordered, you glanced down to the magazines below, and came face to face with yourself. Your Vogue cover had come out, surely just as Linda wanted it. You knew it wasn’t worth it to waste mental energy on the fact that they’d edited the hell out of your face and body. You swore they had shrunk your waist two sizes.

“This you?” The owner asked in a thick Russian accent, pointing towards the magazine.

“Oh, yeah.” You smiled, humbly.

“You sign?” He asked, holding up a sharpie to you.

“Sure.” You took the pen from him, scribbling your name across the cover. This was odd. You were used to signing large checks for charity, sure, but never autographs.

“My daughter, she like you very much. She want to be engineer now.” He smiled proudly, handing you your coffee.

“That’s wonderful.” You smiled brightly, you never expected to be a role model, but if it was for anything you were happy to encourage young women into STEM fields. It was truly heartwarming. You thanked the man, and left him a large tip.

You strolled through the park, going through your mental checklist and schedule for the week. You were leaving in a few days to go to Boston, Linda had gotten you an invitation from MIT to judge their annual robotics competition.

As you journeyed back to your apartment and opened the door, you heard loud beeping coming from your lab.

Rushing around the corner, hundreds of pictures of black market weapons were flooding your desktop.

“What am I looking at here F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You asked, pulling the display out into holograms to get a better look.

“Wire payments tracked to a man named Adrian Toomes. Uncertain what the payments were for, but several other black market transactions and evidence seems to point to these weapons being circulated.” She explained, enlarging the clearest photograph in front of me.

“Maybe the mayor was looking to dip into the business, wanted a chunk. Maybe he wanted the monopoly on the mafia accounts, expanding the business to the most powerful underground families in the city.” You guessed.

“Something’s not right,” You grabbed the rendered blueprint hologram of one of the weapons, enlarging it then spinning it, “Are these man made?”

You began to deconstruct the hologram, removing the outer metal layers, landing at its core power source, your eyes growing wide.

“Is that... a Chitauri energy core? How could they possibly have this much volume? Even if they hoarded some after the incident, it wouldn’t be enough to sustain the operation they seem to be running now. The only other stores this large are locked away in the Department of Damage Control, and I don’t know of any authorizations to remove them.” You thought out loud. They must have been stealing them, turning them into weapons and selling them on the black market. This is more than just a mafia turf war, this is terrorism. Shit.

You knew whatever the mayor had gotten wrapped up in was bad, but you never expected it to be this bad. You were way out of your depth here, you knew you couldn’t just sit on this information.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is dad upstate?” You asked.

“Yes, his plane landed an hour ago.”

“Good, tell him to stay put, I’m on my way.”

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

An hour into your drive you were thanking god for the decision to get coffee earlier. Although your car could technically self-drive, you liked to be in control.

As you pulled into the compound, you saw your father waiting for you at the door. You pulled open the door to your car, making your way towards him.

“You’re gonna give your old man a heart attack if you keep showing up like this.” He raised a brow, curious to what you were up to.

“We both need a vacation.” You scoffed lightheartedly, pushing past him, and into the compound.

You led him into his office, you knew you needed a secure location to safeguard the information you were about to present to him.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about?” Your father took a seat, wearily.

“You’re not going to like this.” You nervously held your hands behind your back, unsure of where to begin.

“Do I ever?” He crossed his arms over his chest, he assumed this would be about Peter again, he never could have expected why you were really here.

“At the gala, as we were going in, a man tried to warn me, he said there was something I should know about the mayor. Thomas pulled me away before he could finish.” You began, your father shaking his head at the mention of Thomas.

“He knew what was going to happen?” Your father asked, sitting up straight in his chair, leaning towards you.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. “But I never forgot what he said, I knew he knew more, and after what happened at the gala... I had to know. I knew it wasn’t a random attack. I tracked him down, he said the mayor’s in deep. Deeper than mafia, he thought maybe they were dealing some sort of weapons.”

“Why did he try and warn you?” He asked, you could tell his protective side was coming out.

“He thought they might try to target me to hurt them, hurt their image.” You tried to put as delicately as possible without outright saying they were using you, but your father understood, and it did nothing but fuel his anger.

“And you went back to this asshole because...?” He asked, patronizingly.

“Will you let me finish please.” You pleaded, and he sat back slightly, not understanding how this could get worse. “After the... article came out, I knew I could use him as an alibi, to shift the focus, discredit the story. We made an agreement. He needed to get back in his father’s good graces, and I was the key to that, and a boost in his polling numbers. It also gave me the opportunity I needed to look into the family, see if there was any credibility to the warning.”

“What did you find?” He raised a brow, it must have been bad enough to bring you here at this hour of night.

“Dad, It’s bad.” You shook your head, “F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You asked, and the AI displayed all the evidence you’d recently uncovered around the room for the two of you to examine. Tony stood and made his way around the room, taking it all in, in shock. And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, once more, it wasn’t just illegal offshore accounts and weapons, you grabbed the hologram and deconstructed it just as you’d done in the lab.

“Is that...” Tony asked in shock, picking up the rendered core in his hands.

“Chitauri, I think they’re stealing them from Damage Control.” You nodded, Tony exhaled.

Part of him was relieved this meeting didn’t have to do with Peter, but this was much worse, and potentially extremely dangerous for you.

“What do I do?” You asked, shaking your head. This was new territory for you, you weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t the hero type.

“You take this to the FBI, this isn’t exactly Avenger territory. If they’re stealing from Damage Control, it’s federal property, their jurisdiction. They’ll know what to do.” Tony nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and placing a hand under his chin, still deep in thought.

“You did the right thing here kid. Next time, maybe give me some heads up if you decide to go hacking into people’s servers, criminal records, and the black market.” He smirked, he feigned an authoritative tone, but was really quite proud of what you’d done. He knew the potential you had, but was worried you’d be swayed and deceived by emotions, but he was wrong. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you weren’t doing it for revenge or personal gain, but for public safety and welfare.

“But where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, you really were your father’s daughter.

#peter parker #spiderman #spider-man #tom holland #tony stark #stark reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark daughter #stark daughter #spider-man: far from home #spider man #spider-man homecoming #peter x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #a kid from queens #chapter 14

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter nine.

wc: 2,350. original publish date: october 19, 2020. 

The morning fog is crisp against the windows of the car, condensation bubbling against the glass.

"Do you actually have a plan, or are we just driving willy-nilly?"

JFK grins at his reflection in the rearview mirror. "I have a plan!"

Van Gogh glares at the boy playfully.

"Okay, that plan might involve driving willy-nilly."

"Well, I guess that's still technically a plan..." Vincent laughs. And then, "Wait, I actually have a legitimate idea."

"No you don't," Kennedy jokes.

This earns him another glare from his best friend. "Did you see the general store when we first drove in?"

JFK nods. "You think they'd have stuff there?"

Vincent shrugs. "It's worth a shot. I mean... someone's gotta be living in this town, right?"

"Well, they don't have to do anything. It really could just be abandoned."

"So why are the roads so fresh?"

"Fresh?"

Gogh rolls his eyes impatiently. "You know what I mean. Clean. Maintained."

JFK goes silent, and at first Van Gogh worries that he's been too pushy, too pretentious, but Kennedy is only thinking.

"Maybe there's a groundskeeper," he suggests, and Vincent looks up at him with knit brows.

"One, for a whole town?" He sits back in his seat. "That hardly seems feasible."

John shrugs, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the road. "The wear in the houses is... I don't know. Formulaic, I guess is the word."

Vincent raises an eyebrow at the boy. "Maybe you mean fabricated?"

JFK nods eagerly. "Yes! Fabricated! That's exactly the word!"

Van Gogh snorts. "What, like someone built this hellhole to look the way it does?"

"It doesn't sound ridiculous coming from your mouth."

"Maybe not, but it would sound ridiculous coming from yours."

Kennedy shoves the boy playfully. "Asshole."

Vincent shoves him back, but doesn't throw an insult.

The boys drive in pleasant silence for a few moments longer, both sitting contentedly in their pyjamas, the seat heaters turned up to high. The windows are fogged over and Van Gogh draws a smiley face with his finger, dotting the eyes so firmly his bent finger turns yellow.

"You know that won't come off without, like, Windex or something, right?"

Vincent flashes his most innocent smile. "Oops."

JFK grins without looking at the boy, and Gogh's breath catches at the sight of his Colgate-white teeth.

"We're here," Kennedy says not a minute later, the low rumble of the car engine ceasing. He and Van Gogh unbuckle their seatbelts at the same time; they seem always to be in unison.

The wooden porch is wet and soft, lichen eating away at it. The door is hanging lopsided off the hinges, but only just enough; there's nothing wrong with the hardware.

"Looks like someone hung it like that on purpose," Vincent mutters as he walks through the door.

JFK turns around, his lips parting in satisfaction. "Told you."

"No, John, you did not 'tell me' anything. This is one bang-up job. Next you're gonna say someone planted the lichen on the porch?"

Kennedy lengthens his gaze to the deck. "It's possible."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're fastidious."

"That's not even how you use that word!"

"Fastidious!" JFK insists.

The boys bicker all the way through the store, picking whatever looks edible off the shelves. Vincent checks a few expiration dates, and most of the refrigerated items have gone bad, but the shelved items are still safe to eat. He makes JFK carry it all, and to his pleasant surprise, the boy doesn't protest.

"Are we just supposed to steal all of this?" Gogh asks, concern washing over his face.

"There's no cashier."

"I know. That's what prompted the thought."

John looks around some more. "We could leave a note and check back tomorrow," he suggests, which is a real solution. Van Gogh didn't think he had it in him.

"Do you have a pen and paper?"

JFK peers over the counter and nods toward something. "Behind the cash register is a stack of Post-Its and a Sharpie. I obviously can't get it, with all the shit you made me hold."

Vincent rolls his eyes. "Everything's so difficult."

"Hey, I'm doing a good thing for you!"

Van Gogh turns around to show his best friend his smile. "I know that. I'm just kidding."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell."

"I guess that's one of my many shortcomings." When JFK doesn't reply, Vincent adds, "That was a joke. You can laugh."

But John doesn't.

Van Gogh doesn't seem to notice his best friend's silence as he scribbles down on the Post-It. He turns around and takes bags of chips from Kennedy's arms, recording the prices and the quantities. "Can I have your phone?" He asks.

"What about yours?" JFK replies, holding the snacks against his chest with one arm while pulling his phone out of his back pocket nonetheless.

"It's dead. I forgot to charge it last night. And you know its battery doesn't do well in the cold."

"Neither does yours, apparently," John says under his breath, but he doesn't mean it as a jab.

Vincent ignores the boy's comment, choosing to interpret it as a joke. He begins punching numbers into Kennedy's calculator app, adding up the prices and writing down a grand total at the bottom of the Post-It. He peels it off from the rest of the pad and is about to stick it to the desk computer before deciding to leave their names and JFK's phone number, just in case.

John glances over Vincent's head at the neon green paper stuck to the computer and snickers to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing, just... are they going to know that we're clones? They might just think we're trolling them."

Van Gogh looks back at the Post-It and can't help but giggle. "God, you're right. Here, we can give ourselves fake names."

"I'll be Jack Kensington, FBI detective."

Vincent laughs, scribbling over the boy's real name. "I'm not writing the last part."

Kennedy shrugs. "Suit yourself." And then, "Who are you going to be?"

"I'll be Victor Hughes."

"That's so boring."

"Who should I be instead? Victor Frankenstein?"

"Yes! That's better."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes, but there's still a smile on his rose-painted lips. "No, that's ridiculous. I can't steal Mary Shelley's OC."

"OC!" Kennedy laughs. "Frankenstein is a classic novel!"

"Mary Shelley still thought of Victor Frankenstein herself! That's what an original character is."

JFK shrugs. "Fair enough."

John and Vincent walk back to the car in favourable silence, smiles still pulled taught across both of their lips. Van Gogh has to channel every ounce of restraint in his body to keep his lips from parting into an overeager grin. He can't remember the last time he was this happy. It's always been him and JFK, but never like this. There was always someone else in the picture, someone Kennedy had to get away from to tend to Gogh. But now, it's just the two of them without any responsibility. Just the boys and a shiny red convertible, with all the time in the world.

"Oh, wait, I have to run back inside real quick," John says, dumping his armfuls of snacks into the backseat.

Van Gogh freezes, his arm hovering above his seatbelt. "How come?"

Kennedy shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull a secure lie out of thin air. "Uhh... I think I left my phone on the counter in there. I'll be right back."

When the boy turns around, Vincent can see his bright red, caseless iPhone tucked into the back pocket of his khakis.

Vincent waits in the car, staring out the windshield and picking at a loose thread in his flannel pyjama pants. God, I can't believe I'm wearing these out, he thinks. They're so ugly. Who even wears flannel anymore?

Kennedy comes out of the general store four minutes later, hugging two pairs of dark green rain boots to his chest.

"It's not raining, John. It's just fog," Vincent says with a smirk as the boy gets into the car.

He passes the smaller pair of boots to his best friend. "I had to guess your size. Six, right?"

Vincent takes the boots skeptically. "Yes... What are these for?"

JFK looks at Van Gogh with a wide grin. The grey light from the fog bounces off the white of his teeth. "You'll see! Just put them on."

Van Gogh obeys, and begins untying his Keds. His socks only go up to his ankles which may be a problem in the boots, but he doesn't care. His stomach is doing that whirlpool thing again, but this time, it feels good. He could drown, but it wouldn't hurt because he knows he'd be drowning in Kennedy.

John exchanges his sneakers for the boots before buckling his seatbelt and starting the car. He holds one hand over the clutch, the other draped over the steering wheel. He turns to his passenger, the orange of his hair bright against the cool paleness of his skin. JFK sinks in his brown eyes, but it's not suffocating like it usually is. His stare is soft, inviting. Kennedy relaxes, his eyes smiling in conversation. "Ready?"

Vincent nods eagerly. "Yeah. Yes, I'm ready."

The boys drive through town, and Vincent is convinced that they're lost. He's about to open his mouth in protest, but JFK shushes him. "We're almost there, I promise."

"Do you actually know where we're going?"

John giggles. "Yes, I know where we're going! I know you're not used to not being in control, but please trust me."

The comment stings, Vincent has to admit. But paired up with please trust me, he lets it go. He does trust JFK. He didn't always, but he does right now. Their silence is pleasant, and Kennedy says he knows where they're going.

Kennedy stops the car at the far end of town, past all the houses. The thick grove of trees is spread out through the windshield, but there's still a fair bit of marshland in front of them, sticky and wet under the car.

"Your tires are going to get so dirty," Vincent comments.

JFK leans forward to pinch the boy's cheek. "Nobody cares about that except for you, Vinny." He opens the car door and climbs out, the mud of the marsh oozing around his boots.

Vincent, still in warm and gooey shock from the nickname, melts into his seat until Kennedy knocks on the window. "Hey, Minivan! You coming, or what?"

Van Gogh pushes the door open, playfully knocking John in the hip. "I'm coming!"

The boys slosh through the marsh, the mud squeaking beneath their boots. Vincent nearly slips and has to grab onto Kennedy's arm for support. JFK sneaks a glance at the boy, smiling to himself as he struggles to keep steady through the wet earth. John stealthily wraps his arm around Vincent's torso, pulling him close and holding him firmly. Van Gogh slings his own arm across John's back, letting the boy support him as he walks through the uneven terrain.

"Thank god you bought us boots," Vincent laughs nervously, an unsure headache starting to set in. His nostrils are clogged with the scent of JFK; this, too, is uneven terrain.

John glances down at the boy affectionately, his gaze soft. "I know you don't like to get dirty, Vincent."

Van Gogh looks up at Kennedy then, and it's a miracle the taller boy had looked away before Vincent could catch him staring.

They walk through the marsh, commenting and giggling, pointing out frogs and funny-shaped pebbles and whatever thoughts pop into their heads. The boys sneak glances at each other as they walk and talk, their stomaches lurching with excitement and nervousness each time they think the other might've caught them staring.

At one moment, though, Vincent and John glance at each other at the same time, their cheeks immediately flushing pink as they look into each other's eyes. Neither of them look away, waiting for the other to say something, to know if this is safe territory or not.

Van Gogh takes a deep breath in preparation to speak at the same time that Kennedy says, "Vincent."

His voice is breathy and serious, and Vincent can't look away. He swallows. "John."

Gogh takes a deep, shaky breath, summoning all the courage he has left in him. "I really want to..." He lets his voice trail off into the cool April air, his eyes flicking between Kennedy's lips and the rest of his face.

"I know," JFK replies. He opens his mouth to agree, but his voice gets stuck in his throat. Instead, he repeats himself. "I know."

"Can I?"

"Yes," John replies too quickly.

It doesn't matter to Vincent. Consent is consent, and he's been waiting for his best friend's for years. He hasn't known it until now, but it's an explanation for all of his stomachaches, all of the twisting he felt in his chest when he saw JFK with Cleo, with other girls.

His eyes flutter shut as he raises himself to his tiptoes, shifting his arm from Kennedy's back to cradle the nape of his neck. John leans down to meet him halfway, his arm still wrapped tightly around the boy's abdomen. Their lips brush softly, innocently, and Vincent is immediately filled up with butterflies, their wings eager and flapping rapidly against the inner walls of his body.

JFK kisses back just as softly, and it's a different kiss than anything he's ever felt. His stomach knots itself with excitement, and he's falling through the sky, but he knows he's going to have a soft landing.

Vincent breaks away first, his eyes staying shut for a millisecond longer than they need to.

"I've been waiting years for that," JFK replies, his voice low and his eyes twinkling.

"How long?" Van Gogh whispers back, his tone just as light.

"I don't know."

"Me neither."

"Can we go again?" Kennedy asks after a moment, his eye contact with Van Gogh never breaking for a second.

Vincent nods, and John leans in. They are arms wrapped around torsos and around necks, hands in hair and on faces. In this moment, Van Gogh doesn't mind the ooze of the mud beneath his feet, and Kennedy doesn't mind the stillness of the kiss.

#limitless #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh

[softspiderling]

you mocha me crazy | t.h.

Summary: an encounter at a coffee shop leaves you with more than a cup full of coffee

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Here With Me by Marshmello

Author’s Note: while doing research for this piece  fell in love with the LA film school *sigh* Germany is so fucking boring. Also be proud of me, I finished writing to pieces today! *yay*

Warnings: swearing, otherwise only fluff!

Word Count: 1,8k cute words

It has been fairly difficult adjusting to the Los Angeles lifestyle, to say the least. Everything was so loud and bright, and the time difference was horrendous.

Los Angeles was nine hours behind your usual time zone; you haven’t even been here for a week and your classes have already started in full force. Even though the courses were so interesting and your fellow students were really nice, you just were so tired and barely found the motivation to smile at other people and exchange phone numbers.

Which was the reason why you were staggering into the nearest coffee shop after your first class of film history, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. You stood in line to order as your eyes scanned the display of baked goods, contemplating whether you should pick up a cookie with your coffee.

“Hi, welcome to Yo Jo Coffee, what can I get ya?”

The greeting pulled you from your thoughts and you smiled tiredly at the cheery barista.

“Hey, can I get a large mocha and uh…” you trailed off, biting your lip as you were trying to pick between the cookies. “A double chocolate cookie please,” you decided and fished your wallet out.

“A mocha and a double chocolate cookie coming right up. Name?” the barista asked as her sharpie hovered over the side of a coffee cup.

“Y/N.”

“That’ll be six dollars and 41 cents,” the barista told you and you waved your credit card around, sticking it into the EC cash terminal to pay. As you were handed the cookie in a small paper bag, you moved to the side of the counter to wait for your coffee.

Juggling your cookie in one and your phone in the other hand, you stuffed your wallet back into your backpack, you looked around in the busy coffee shop.

Warm sunlight streamed through the windows and you fingered at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at your chest where your camera was usually hanging off your neck. Emphasis on usually. You were in such a rush in the morning, you forgot to grab the camera.

You broke off a half from the cookie and took a bite, wondering if you should try to capture a few pictures with your phone, when your name was called. You whirled around and smiled at the barista who prepared your coffee, your hand curling around the warm coffee cup.

“Thanks!” you called over your shoulder as you turned to leave, but before you could even take a sip from your mocha, you collided with someone, sending your cup flying and spilling the hot beverage all over you and the person you bumped into.

“Son of a bitch!” you cursed as the scalding fluid soaked your t shirt and most of your bare legs. Now you were really glad that you forgot to take your camera with you, you didn’t even want to imagine having to try to replace your camera. “Shit!” you heard from the other person and you looked up to see a brown haired guy you bumped into. You couldn’t quiet see his face, because he was looking down at his white t shirt. The white t shirt that was stained with brown blotches from your mocha.

“I am so sorry!” you said quickly and grabbed some tissues, starting to pat the other person down. “That’s quiet alright love, I wasn’t looking where I was going either,” he chuckled with a thick English accent and you furrowed a brow.

“You’re English,” you noted pleasantly surprised at the change from the usual American accent and looked up, finally catching a glimpse of his face. Your hands stilled as you see a face in front of you that has been plastered all over the movie posters, his brown hair tucked under a black baseball cap

“You’re Tom Holland,” you blurted out and Tom grinned boyishly at you. “Why yes, I am. Do you mind?” he asked and gestured towards his torso, where your hands were resting.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” your cheeks tinged pink and you pulled your hands off of him, handing him a few tissues.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you and started dabbing at the stains, before grimacing and giving up. A barista, lugging a bucket and a mop behind him, gave you a dirty look as he started mopping up the puddle on the floor.

“Sorry!” you squawked and picked your empty coffee cup up from the floor before tossing it in the trash can, looking at it longingly.

“Come on, go order another one. My treat,” Tom said to you, noticing your expression. You turn your eyes back to him and he nodded in the direction of the counter, which made you shake your head quickly. “No, you don’t have to! I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one buying you coffee,” you protested, which only made him chuckle.

“I insist. I am picking up coffees for my friends anyway, what’s one more?” Tom said and you eyed him before giving in, nodding.  

“Fine. I guess you don’t get treated for a coffee from a famous actor every day,” you mumbled and he laughed, walking up to the counter.

“Hi, I’ll have two iced coffees, an americano and…” he trailed off, looking in your direction. “A mocha.” You added, tucking your hair behind your ear, while you watched Tom pay, before following him to the end of the counter.

“So, what do you usually do besides dumping coffee down other people’s shirts?” he asked you curiously.

“I am really sorry about that,” you said again, ducking your head. “I uh, just started at LA film school.”

Tom laughed a genuine laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I am just messing with you, love, it’s not a big deal. So, film school, huh? What are you there for?”

“Cinematography. I am really into making videos and uh, I guess photography,” you told him with a small smile.

“Oh that’s sick. You seem to have the same interests as my younger brother Harry. Can I see some of your stuff?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his interest in you, before nodding, pleased. You liked sharing your work with other people, getting various opinions from different people. Art always affected people differently and you liked watching their reaction.

“Uh, yeah sure. I mainly shoot with my camera and I forgot to grab it when I left in the morning, so I just have a couple pictures on my phone that I can show you,” you reached for your phone and swiped to your gallery to show Tom some of your pictures.

“I took most of them back home, I haven’t been in LA that long, and I am swamped with classes so I didn’t really have the time to take a day off to take pictures,” you explained to him while he peered into your phone screen.

You had noticed that he was leaning over your shoulder to look at your pictures, and even though he wasn’t the tallest guy, you were still quiet shorter than him. His cheek brushed yours gently and you swallowed thickly, turning to look at him.

His face was only a few inches away from yours and you could see the faint freckles that were speckled across his cheeks.

“Your photos are really good,” he said softly and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted, before you cleared your throat and turned away with flushed cheeks. “Thanks,” you mumbled and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I am not the best photographer, can you give me some pointers?” he asked and you look at him amusedly.

“I could try,” you chuckled and he lifted his phone with a grin. “Okay then, look away and act like I am not here, yeah?” Tom instructed you, making you laugh, before doing as you’re told. You can hear a few clicks of the phone as Tom snapped pictures of you, trying your hardest to strike a natural pose.

“I am pretty sure there are a few good ones,” he said proudly as he lowered his phone, swiping through the pictures with you leaning over his shoulder.

“Yeah, they’re not so bad,” you complimented him. Tom managed to capture you with a soft smile, the sun streaming on your face, giving you a golden glow. It was a rather good picture, you had to admit.

“We’ll make a photographer out of you yet.”

Tom smirked at you proudly, pocketing his phone. “I am just that talented.”

“Oh please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes good naturedly. “I got an order for Tom!” the barista called out and Tom lifted his hand, walking over to the counter. You watched his back as he fumbled around with the coffees for quite a while.

“You need any help?” you asked with a grin, your arms crossed.

“No no, I am all good love,” he called over his shoulder, handing the barista a pen before he turned around to you, four coffee cups in a carrier in his hand.

“Here,” Tom said, handing you your coffee.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, taking a big gulp while the two of you walked out of the coffee shop.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you sighed as you stood outside the doors. Tom chuckled and nodded gesturing to two boys standing by the sidewalk.

“Yeah, my friends are waiting for me and their coffees,” he told you and you nodded. “I gotta get back to class, too,” you said slowly, waiting. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe him giving you his number.

But when he waved at you with a friendly smile, and a “See you around, Y/N.” you realized this was probably your first and last time meeting Tom Holland. With a wave of your hand, you turned on your heel and walked the other way, your cheeks burning.

It was a dream, thinking Tom Holland, out of all people, would give you his phone number after one friendly conversation. He probably met hundreds of people a day, you were merely a friendly face in the mass, you thought bitterly as you sipped on your coffee, heading to your lecture for Digital Editing I.

“Hey, thanks for saving me a seat,” you said to Jane, a friendly girl you’ve met in class.

“Yeah, no worries,” she told you with a smile as you sat down. She eyed your coffee cup before grinning.

“Already picking up guys at coffee shops, huh?” she teased and you looked at her in confusion before turning the coffee cup in your hands, a smile spreading on your face. On the white paper cup, Tom had scribbled his phone number with a black marker, the number adorned with a wide smiley.

“I guess I am,” you chuckled sheepishly, already grabbing your phone. As the lights dimmed and the professor started the lecture, you were typing away on your phone.

Y/N: writing your phone number on my cup was a pretty risky move. What would you have done if I hadn’t seen it?

Your smile widened as your message’s status quickly changed from delivered to read, the ellipses popping up, before disappearing and then reappearing.

Tom: I guess we’ll never find out 😉

Taglist: @sunflowercth

#you mocha me crazy #my writing #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader

[honeymoonjin]

makin’ monet - jungkook

A/N: requested by @xilee-reaper​. Jungkook’s interest is peaked when his roommate Taehyung has a collection of fake classic paintings. 2.2k words.

“O Week, baby!”

Jungkook ignores Tae’s cheer as he pokes around his room. Tae had only been in this student accommodation for three days, but his stuff was already all over the place.

Tae had always been a collector; no matter where he went, he was always picking up trinkets and memorabilia like he was a magnet for it.

Now, it seemed, his new obsession were these tiny little canvas squares, painted as miniature imitations of famous paintings. Jungkook picks one up, a mock-up of Monet’s Water Lilies that is accurate down to the smallest detail. There’s no name on the bottom, just a tiny black set of initials.

“God, where did I leave the slides?”

Tae has been rooting around his room for the better part of half an hour, getting ready for a campus party that only he wanted to go to, yet somehow was the one that was now an hour late for, and Jungkook was forced to endure the unpleasant experience of Tae going through every single clothing article to try and find the best outfit.

Jungkook was just in a white t-shirt and worn jeans, but that apparently was too minimalistic for Tae.

He puts down the Water Lilies and moves on. There are six of them on Tae’s bookshelf, and while they’re good, sure, it seems a little excessive. “Hey, Tae,” he calls out to the man who’s head over heels in his closet, waiting for a muffled ‘yeah?’ before continuing. “These little paintings, you made them?”

Tae emerges ass-first from the messy heap of clothes, triumphantly brandishing a pair of Gucci slides. “Nah, ‘course not, I bought them off Y/n.”

Jungkook frowns. The name’s not familiar. “Y/n? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend?”

Taehyung just scoffs, hopping around on one foot as he puts on his shoes. “I don’t, she’s just a friend. If I spot her at the party tonight, I’ll introduce you two.”

Well aware of Tae’s habit of saying things with no intention of actually doing them, Jungkook just hums in affirmation and leaves the paintings on the shelf, itching to finally go out.

The girl, Y/n, apparently wasn’t at the party. Maybe she was, but Taehyung just forgot to introduce her. Either way, the loose end was bothering Jungkook more than he expected. Why was he so curious about this girl? He tried to picture what she was like. Chances are she wasn’t that much like Tae. All of his friends always seemed way different from him, Jungkook included, as if he wanted to be the Regina George of his friend groups at all times.

That did leave a lot of possibility, though, and he found himself asking Tae more and more about this mystery girl, curiosity eating him alive.

She was studying engineering like Jungkook, apparently, so perhaps she was like those cold, logical, hard-ass women he had seen in his classes, but her paintings would suggest otherwise. Tae also mentioned he often hung out with at her place, and she had an impressive collection of videogames that ‘even you would be jealous of, Kook’. So perhaps she was an anti-social nerd that sat on the couch for hours with a controller and a bag of Cheetos, but then Tae never had any interest in hanging out with people that had no interest in hanging out with him.

The more he found out, the less he knew.

Now, Jungkook sits in his first computer lab of the semester. Engineering was a pretty massive discipline, no matter what university you were at, and the giant lecture halls were so packed that you couldn’t really make a lot of friends and get to know people, but there were so many timetable streams of computer labs that each one had broken down to about twenty-five people.

Next to him is a guy with boxy, unflattering glasses, the ones you could never imagine anyone actively choosing to wear, and he seems too plugged in to some anime with extremely endowed women to want to talk to Jungkook.

The seat next to him is vacant when the class starts, but ten minutes in, one of the doors opens and a girl slips in. At first Jungkook assumes she’s in the wrong room, because she looks nothing like the other hundred or so engineering students he had seen so far.

She’s so short she has to go on tiptoes to glance over the computer screens and find a spare seat, wide eyes lighting up on the space to Jungkook’s right.

“And why are you so tardy, madam?”

She pauses in her scurry towards his desk and stares at the lecturer, who is crossing his arms over in an unconvincing show of dominance. “Because I didn’t get here in time,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

Jungkook can’t help but quirk his lips into a grin at that, but once she turns back to his direction, he quickly hides it behind his hand, coughing lightly.

The computer lab is hard, way more complicated than anything he had done in high school, and he’s so focused on putting in the right commands that it takes him another twenty or so minutes to look up from his monitor and notice the girl next to him.

He rubs the tiredness from his eyes and stretches back, glancing over at her screen. He pauses, arms still stretched out in the air behind him. “You’ve already finished?” he asks incredulously.

She looks up from where she’s scribbling absentmindedly on a piece of graph paper and stares at him. Once she processes what he said, her eyes widen in realization. “Oh, yeah, I checked it out last night and it was kinda easy, so I figured I’d just do it then.”

Ignoring the fact that he felt a little stupid for struggling so much, he sits up in his chair properly and swivels to face her. “Why are you here, then?”

She grins cheekily and cocks her head to the lecturer’s desk, where he’s overseeing the lab like a sergeant. “The general ambience, you know.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes glancing down for a moment. He blinks a couple times and realizes that her scribbles are actually quite good, and in fact familiar. “Café Terrace at Night?”

She cocks her head at the sudden change of topic. “Huh? Oh, right! How did you know?” She sighs. “I’ll be honest, I’m a little sad that I couldn’t pass it off as my own.”

Computer lab forgotten, he begins swaying back and forth on his chair lazily, bumping knees with her every swing. He notes with a little burst of happiness that she makes no attempt to move away from the contact. “I saw a Van Gogh recently. Not a real one, though,” he adds quickly upon seeing the impressed look on her face.

Wait a minute. He glances down at her half of the desk again and sees a haphazard pile of textbooks and refill she had brought in with her. On the spine of Introduction to Mechanical Engineering is the name Y/N, in sharpie-d all-caps.

His mouth falls open in a perfect o, and he points dumbly at the textbooks. “You’re Y/n!”

She bites on her lip, glancing back and forth between her books and him. “Yeah?”

“My friend, Taehyung, he’s got a bunch of your paintings in his dorm room.”

Her eyes brighten in realization. “Ah, Kimmy! Small world, huh.” She glances down at her drawing, eyes distant and unfocussed. She takes a deep breath and looks back up at him, twiddling her thumbs. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in buying one?”

Jungkook tips his head. “Buying one?”

She frowns, and Jungkook can’t help but stare at her delicate pout. “Well, I’m not giving them away for free! They take hours of hard work and I-”

“That’s- That’s not what I meant,” he clarifies hurriedly, “I just didn’t realize you were, like, selling them selling them.”

Her pout tips up into a soft smile, and she raises her eyebrows in good humor. “Well, this is the first time we’ve met, so it’s unsurprising that you don’t know everything about me.” She pauses. “In fact, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh! Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet the man Kimmy has never once mentioned,” she jokes. When Jungkook furrows his brows and looks a little put out, she laughs and pushes him a little on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, idiot! He talks about you all the time. Kookie, right?”

He flushes at the embarrassing nickname but nods in assent.

“Anyway, I used to just make the paintings as a hobby, but I’ve been in a little…financial strife recently, so I’m trying to use them as a little extra income.”

Jungkook sobers. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n laughs again, and the joyous tone causes something to spark in Jungkook. “Oh, no, no, don’t be sorry. I’m just being dramatic, I guess. I let my bunny out of the hatch, and he chewed the cord of my roommate’s headphones. They were pretty expensive ones, so now Yoon’s taken mine hostage until I can save up enough to replace them.” Her gaze turns inward, and she sighs. “Although now I can’t game without him biting my head off about the volume.” She clears her throat and shrugs, cheering up again. “Anyway, if you don’t want to buy one, that’s all good, just thought I’d ask.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair slightly and tips his head back, shaking his hair out of his face. He’s pleased when he sees her swallow and stick her tongue out subconsciously to wet her lips. “No, I’ll buy one,” he counters, “anything to help out with a fellow gamer’s plight.”

Maybe the subtle plug wasn’t so subtle, but her face lights up nevertheless. Over the remaining fourteen minutes of the lab, Jungkook’s computer eventually goes to sleep, as they spend the whole time discussing which servers had the best graphics, and how many times it took them to beat a final boss.

Once the clock strikes ten to the hour, almost all of the students rush to log off and gather their stuff, but Jungkook is in no hurry. Y/n is hunched over his outstretched arm, writing her number on his hand with a pen.

The tickle of the pen sets his nerves alight, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of her hand keeping his steady, and the wrist resting on his as she wrote. He laughs to try and distract himself from just how much his heart was racing from her close proximity. “I said Tae would put me in contact with you! Don’t you trust me?” he teases.

“I don’t trust Kimmy,” she counters immediately, not looking up until she underlines her number twice and puts an exclamation mark. She tucks her pen away in her pencil case and starts packing up her things. Although he has a class next and should probably hurry up, Jungkook just sits back in his chair and observes her. “You can tell him a million times and he’ll still forget, and I’m not putting my business on the line for his flaky ass.”

He chuckles, and absentmindedly his thumb rubs over the ink on the back of his hand. “You’re quite bossy, you know that?”

She grins at him, kicking him lightly in the shins. “And you’re a terrible flirter!”

“If you noticed I was flirting, then I must have been doing it right,” he counters. “Is it working?”

She kicks him again, but her cheeks heat up. “I gave you my number, didn’t I?” She glances at the clock and bites her lip. “Ah, I’m late for my physics nap. Dammit.”

“You’re what?”

She hoists her backpack on, and answers as he gets up hurriedly and stuffs his things away. “If you get to physics early enough, you can get a seat at the back, and Professor Namjoon can’t see you sleeping.”

He scoffs, finally picking up his bag and joining her as they left the classroom together. He doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping in class, and his is in the opposite direction to the way she’s leading him, but he doesn’t want to part ways just yet. Maybe he can skip, just this once, and get Jimin to give him his notes. “I apologize for keeping you up past your bedtime, chief.”

She snorts out her nose but manages to keep her face impassive. “At least you know your place, young grasshopper.”

“We’re the same age!”

“Kimmy’s older than me and he still knows I’m the boss.”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to earn my sworn fealty. I’m not a loyal puppy like Tae.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re quite bossy, you know that?”

He laughs at his words from earlier being thrown back at him. “Only to pretty girls.”

She blushes but forces an unimpressed look on her face. “So, there are others, huh?”

Jungkook shakes his head in bemused disbelief, making a note to himself to thank Tae for buying the photos that started all this. He stares at her while she’s making a point of doggedly avoiding his gaze. They had only just met, sure, but there was something about her that made his heart beat faster, and he desperately wanted to explore that feeling. “Not if you don’t want there to be.”

Read the sequel!

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts au #bts imagine #bts x reader

[mr-chrisevans]

Meet Cute - pt. 1

Prequel to A Christmas to Remember

Word Count: 2,675

Next Chapter

Before I met Chris and before I had even a modicum of success as a writer I worked at a little cafe in Los Angeles. I was trying, to no avail, to find a job as a freelance writer for an online blog somewhere in the city but worked there to make ends meet. But when a stranger walked into that cafe little did I know everything would change.

*****

"Hey, Estelle!" I shouted from the living room of our apartment. "Do you know what happened to my nametag? I cannot find it anywhere and I have no idea where I put it." She walked into the room with her toothbrush hanging from the side of her mouth. "I could've sworn I saw it when I walked into the kitchen this morning."

"Did you check your purse?" She asked, her voice muffled as she continued brushing her teeth and walked back to the bathroom. "You always leave it in there, Laurel."

"Yes, I already looked in there," I said and ruffled through my purse one last time. "I didn't find it when I-" I paused for a moment and defeatedly pulled my nametag out of my purse.

"I told you." She said from the bathroom.

"You are a bonafide genius." I laughed and grabbed my car keys from the kitchen counter. "I'll see you tonight."

Estelle walked back into the living room. "You better not be late tonight. It's Casey's birthday and she will rip that pretty little head clean off your shoulders if you're late again."

"I know, I know. I promise I won't be late. I'll give you twenty dollars if I am." I told her and made my way to the front door.

"I will take you up on that." She laughed and waved me out of the apartment.

*****

By some miracle, I got to work five minutes before my shift started, much to the surprise of my manager.

"On time for once?" Mark laughed at me as I walked behind the counter and set my things in the back. "I hope this lasts."

"Early actually." I joked. "But I can't make any promises. You know me too well for that." I pulled my notebook out of my back pocket and started scribbling down some random notes.

He smiled at me and went back to making himself a cup of coffee. "This much is true. So, what kind of drink would suit your fancy this morning?"

I held my pen up to my chin in thought. "I'm thinking just a classic vanilla latte with some swan art."

"I'll see what I can do for you." He went back to preparing the coffee and I sat in front of the counter continuing to write in my notebook. "Any inspiration come to you this morning?" He asked, hearing my pen run against the paper.

I chuckled. "Not unless you count waking up twenty minutes late and scrambling to get ready as inspiration."

"I'm sure you could do a lot with that for a story." He placed a mug next to me on the counter. "A love story. A compulsively late barista struggling to make it big as a writer meets a handsome mysterious stranger one day. It practically writes itself." He joked and sat down next to me.

I shook my head and chuckled. "I've never been one for cliche stories, Mark."

"Laurel, I hate to break it to you, but you are a cliche. Probably in the wrong city though."

"Are you telling me I should move?"

"Oh god no. You're late every day but you sure as hell know how to upsell some scones. We need you here."

"Apparently I'm the only one who knows how to do latte art around here too," I said and looked down at my coffee. "This looks more like a cartoon penis than a swan."

"We all have our weaknesses." Just then the door chimed signaling the first customer of the day. "Looks like it's time to sell some scones." He gave me a pat on the back and took his coffee over to the back counter to start doing inventory.

"Good morning!" I said to the man walking up to the counter putting on my best customer service persona and standing up from my stool. "How are you today?"

He smiled and tousled his hair a bit. He was incredibly handsome and I felt like I was blushing just from looking at him. "I'm doing pretty well. How about yourself?"

"I'm doing fine. There are worse places to be." I joked and earned a chuckled from him. "So, what can I get started for you today?"

"I'll just take a small dark roast to-go. And why don't you throw in a scone too."

"Sounds great. Can I get a name for that." I said and pulled out a to-go cup and a sharpie.

"It's Josh." He said with a smile and handed me his credit card.

"We'll get that going for you right now, Josh." I smiled at him and handed his card back.

*****

After my shift, I rushed home as quickly as I could and found Estelle already dressed and waiting for me on the couch. "Actually on time for once. That's surprising." She said without looking up from her phone.

"I'm thinking about turning over a new leaf." I joked, closing the door behind me and walking to my room.

"Knowing you that won't last very long." She shouted after me. "Now hurry up so we're not late."

I changed out of my work clothes as quickly as possible and dashed into the bathroom to do my makeup. I was ready in ten minutes, which was faster than I think I've ever managed to get ready. "I'm all set. Let's head out." I said confidently as I walked back into the living room. "Do you wanna drive or should I?"

"I'll take it this time." She stood up from the couch and grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter. "I'd rather not be hungover at work tomorrow night."

"I guess it's a good thing I work at a coffee place then. Easy access to hangover cures." We made our way out of the apartment and into the parking lot, praying that we'd make it to the bar on time.

*****

We made it to the bar just in time and saw Casey and Jules sitting at a table. "It's the birthday girl!" I shouted as we got to the table and I pulled Casey into a hug.

"I can't believe you made it on time." Jules laughed as Estelle and I finally joined them.

"It's a miracle truly." I laughed. "Now I am going to go get myself a drink. I will return shortly." I slapped the table and made my way over to the bar. It was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night so I had to wait to get the attention of the bartender. As I stood by the bar I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. I was surprised to see Josh's face, the guy I had served earlier that day at the cafe. "Oh, hi."

"It's nice to see you again. I didn't expect to see you here." He was just as handsome and charming as he had been that morning.

"You know working at a coffee shop is a lot tougher than you would expect." I joked.

"I don't think I caught your name this morning."

I smiled and held my hand out to him. "It's Laurel."

"Well, Laurel, it's nice to officially make your acquaintance." He responded and took my hand in his. "How about I get that drink for you?"

"I will certainly take you up on that offer. A rum and coke, if you please." He quickly flagged over the bartender and ordered my drink for me.

Just as I was about to thank him his friend walked over and slung his arm around his shoulder. "Come on, Josh. Stop being creepy and come back to the table. I'm moments away from kicking your ass at darts."

"I am being the opposite of creepy. I met Laurel this morning at The Grind and I was just being friendly." Josh pushed his arm off and smiled at me. "This is my friend, Chris. I apologize for his crassness but maybe you'd like to join us for a round of darts."

"Yeah, it'll be a lot of fun." Chris beamed. Something about him seemed oddly familiar but I could not peg where I knew him from. And while Josh was a good looking guy, I couldn't help but fall into Chris' gorgeous blue eyes.

I almost forgot how to speak while I was lost in the handsomeness that was Josh's friend Chris. I finally regained the ability to understand and respond. Sighing, I replied. "As much as I would love to, I'm here for a friend's birthday so I have prior obligations."

"That's a shame. But I hope you enjoy your drink and hopefully I'll see you around sometime."

"That would be lovely." Josh gave a curt wave goodbye and headed back to his table while I grabbed my drink and made my way back to my friends.

"Who was that hottie at the bar?" Jules asked when I sat back down.

"Just a guy who came into work today." I shrugged off the question and took a sip of my drink. "Nothing special really." Estelle turned to look at me and gave me a prodding look. I sighed before responding. "Well, to be honest, his friend was a lot cuter."

Casey chuckled and shook her head. "He did seem more your type. I would say go for it."

"Speaking of handsome men," Estelle started, "Why isn't Alan here with us, Casey. You would think the birthday girl's man would join us for the festivities."

Jules froze and discretely shook her head attempting to warn us to avoid the subject. Casey sighed and set her drink down on the table. "He will not be joining us tonight because he is no longer the birthday girl's man." All three of us tried to console her with kind words and hugs but she brushed us off. "I'm fine guys, don't worry about it. He was an ass anyway and I'm surprised you guys didn't say anything about it earlier." She laughed. Estelle and I exchanged a quick look before turning back to her. "What was that about?"

I sighed before responding. "Well, we tried to tell you before."

"Multiple times, actually," Estelle added. "But you were a little too blinded by infatuation to realize it."

Casey laughed at our responses. "I guess you're right. His hauntingly good looks distracted me from his rotting core of a soul." She joked.

"How about a toast," Jules spoke up and raised her glass. "To a new year free of assholes with rotting cores." We all raised our glasses and cheered.

"I hope one of you is prepared to be my designated driver because this birthday girl is planning on getting plastered."

"I think Estelle will take up that mantle. In the meantime let's get a round of shots."

*****

About thirty minutes in we all had a nice buzz going and Casey insisted on all of us going to play darts with Josh, Chris, and their friends. They were incredibly inviting and we were all more than happy to be there. "All right, I say we all team up. Teams of two with a boy and girl on each team." Chris announced gesturing with a beer in his hand.

"I think that sounds like a fantastic idea," I added.

Chris smiled at me. "As the two pioneers for this idea, Laurel and I will be on a team. You may divide amongst yourselves." Josh looked a little annoyed by our pairing but Casey quickly jumped at the opportunity to be his partner.

"I hope you're good at this. I don't want to have to pull your dead weight here." I joked and nudged Chris with my elbow.

"Oh, don't you worry. We will crush this, I promise." He held up his hand for a high five and I obliged.

We played darts for a while before Estelle eventually got bored from losing to Chris and me in every round, so we decided to sit and talk instead. The conversation bounced around to a bunch of different subjects that probably were not very interesting for a sober person. Chris discretely pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and stood up. "If you don't mind me, I'm going to go outside for a second."

"I think I'm gonna join you," I added before he walked too far away and grabbed my purse to join him. Josh looked a little upset for the second time that night, but I couldn't pass up a cigarette with a handsome man.

We walked out to the porch at the front of the bar and I pulled my pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of my purse. The two of us set a cigarette between our lips. He successfully lit his while I struggled with my own lighter. "Here, let me help you." He leaned over and lit mine for me with his lighter.

"Thanks." I smiled and took a drag. "I guess this guy was standing on his last leg." I usually managed to be confident around guys I thought were attractive, but something about him gave me butterflies in my stomach like I'd never felt before and words were suddenly not my strong suit.

He smiled at me and turned to look out toward the street. "So, what do you do?" He asked.

I took my cigarette from between my lips and sighed. "I work at a coffee shop right now," I told him and leaned against the railing facing towards the building.

He turned his head to look at me. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who plans on working at a coffee shop for the rest of her life. What do you want to do?"

I smiled at his response and looked down at the ground. "I'm actually a writer. Well, a struggling one, but still a writer." I laughed. "The cafe is just a way to keep me alive for right now until I find some kind of freelance job."

"That's really cool. I wish you the best of luck in that endeavor."

"Thank you, it's greatly appreciated." I smiled and turned to face him. "So, what's your passion?"

"I'm an actor, actually."

"Oh, wow, that's really cool." He nodded along and took a drag from his cigarette. "Anything that I might have seen?"

"Maybe, yeah-" Just as he was about to finish his sentence when Jules and Estelle burst out of the bar supporting a limp Casey between them.

"Woah, what is going on?" I asked, shocked by the state Casey was in.

"Apparently she had a lot more to drink than we thought," Jules said and tried to shift Casey's weight on her shoulders. "We're gonna get her home now so she doesn't feel even worse in the morning."

I put out my cigarette and turned back to Chris with a sigh. "I really wish we could talk more but duty calls." I switched spots with Estelle to support Casey while she went to go get her car and we started down the steps out of the bar.

"It was really nice to meet you, Laurel. Maybe I'll see you around sometime." Chris leaned over the railing so he could see me before we got into the car.

I smiled up at him. "I'd like that a lot." I wanted to stare into his eyes for the rest of my damn life but was quickly pulled back into reality by Casey attempting to drag me into the back seat with her and repeatedly calling me babe. Who knew that mess of a night would lead to the rest of my life.

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #meet cute #author: cptn-wdw #mc ch 1

[andimackshitposts]

maybe it's all part of a plan (i'll keep on making the same mistakes), or Five Times Jonah Beck Tried to Woo Cyrus Goodman and One Time He Didn’t 

Summary: “I asked him on a date, and he invited his two best friends, one of which just happens to be my ex-girlfriend,” Jonah almost laughed at his own misery. “I think he’s sending a pretty clear message, don’t you?”

Also read on AO3. 

The arcade was loud and bright and Jonah was glad for the distraction. He dreaded the moment he stepped away from the bright chaos and was alone with his thoughts. Nothing about the day had gone according to plan. He was supposed to be at the arcade with Cyrus. It was supposed to be their first date. He’d even made an effort to dress up a little and style his hair (although he’d never been very good at that, so he doubted it looked very good), and then Cyrus had shown up with Buffy and Andi in tow, and suddenly it wasn’t a date anymore.

Or, rather, it never was a date. Jonah only thought it was a date. Which was stupid, really, because it wasn’t like Cyrus was ever going to see Jonah as anything more than a friend. Why would he? What did Jonah have to offer that Cyrus couldn’t get from any other boy?

The video game speakers crackled “GAME OVER” and the same words, in a pixelated red font, flashed on screen, pulling Jonah back into the moment.

“Another win for me!” Buffy flashed a smug grin, stepping away from her console and looking around for another open game.

“Congrats,” Jonah forced a smile, and followed her to an open racing game.

Buffy stopped short, and turned around. “Okay, Jonah, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where’s your competitive edge?” Buffy put a hand on her hip. “Beating your ass isn’t as fun when you don’t give it your all.”

Jonah shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I’m just not that into it today.”

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Wasn’t coming to the arcade your idea?”  

Jonah held back a bitter remark, choosing instead a simple: “Yeah.” Apparently, he didn’t do a very good job of keeping his tone neutral because Buffy’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in shock.

“Were you just... surly with me?” She seemed to barely be able to get the words out for how bewildered she was. “You? Human sunbeam Jonah Beck?”

Jonah shrugged. “Today isn’t going how I wanted it to, is all.”

Buffy considered this for a moment before speaking. “This was supposed to be a date, wasn’t it?”

Jonah paled. How did she know that? “What?!” He coughed out.

“You were asking Cyrus out, weren’t you?”

Jonah felt his face start to burn. “How did you know?”

Buffy laughed. “You’re not exactly subtle, dude. I have eyes. I can see the way you look at him.”

Jonah rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t even matter.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I asked him on a date, and he invited his two best friends, one of which just happens to be my ex-girlfriend,” Jonah almost laughed at his own misery. “I think he’s sending a pretty clear message, don’t you?”

Buffy pursed her lips. “I mean...maybe he didn’t realize what you were asking. What exactly did you say to him?”

“I said ‘do you want to go to the arcade with me tomorrow’ and he said ‘I’d love to.’”

Buffy sighed deeply. “Are you kidding me? There’s no way Cyrus knew what you meant.”

“Well,” Jonah crossed his arms. He almost took offense to Buffy’s tone. In his defense, the arcade seemed like a great idea when he’d asked Cyrus. They were a cold snap, and he knew Cyrus had been dying to play the new Alien Invaders game.  “How do you propose I get him to realize what I meant?”

“You have woo him!” Buffy exclaimed. “Buy him flowers! Give him chocolates! And at least ask him to go to dinner and movie, not the same arcade we go to twice a month.”

Jonah nodded. “You may be right.”

“I’m always right.”

ONE: CHOCOLATE (KIND OF)

Jonah stood in his father’s kitchen, examining the wreckage. Flour and cocoa powder coated nearly every surface, egg white dripped off one of the counters, and blobs of dough speckled the white linoleum floor. But it was worth it for the tray of chocolate heart cookies that were cooling on the table. Buffy had suggested straight up chocolates, but a box of candy seemed… cliche.

So, here he was, preparing to spread red icing on homemade cookies. God, he thought, I’m pathetic. I baked him cookies for Valentine’s Day. Jonah hoped his baking skills would impress Cyrus, who had told him time and again that he was looking for “a man who could cook,” since he wasn’t the greatest in the kitchen himself. Plus, there was no way Cyrus could miss that it was a romantic gesture. The cookies were literally heart shaped.

He frosted them quickly, just a smear of red icing to fancy them up, plated them up, and went to change. He, Cyrus, Buffy, and Andi were meeting up at The Spoon, and Jonah planned to get there early to catch Cyrus alone before the others showed up. He arranged them on a paper plate, wrapped it up in red cellophane he’d bought at Michael’s, and tied with a silver ribbon he’d pulled from the drawer his dad’s girlfriend kept the Christmas paper in.

He arrived at The Spoon ten minutes before the meetup time, just as planned. Cyrus arrived 5 minutes later, as he always did, and Jonah couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face.

“Hey, Jo-Lamajama! Whatcha got there?” Cyrus greeted brightly, genturing to the plate of cookies Jonah had almost forgot he was holding.

“Chocolate heart cookies,” Jonah pushed them towards Cyrus. “I made them myself.”

“Wow!” Cyrus took the plate from Jonah’s hands with a bright smile. “Can I have one?”

“Of course,” Jonah nodded. “They’re for--”

Jonah was cut off by Andi’s voice. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Andi!” Cyrus swiveled. “Look, Jonah made us cookies!”

Andi raised an eyebrow at Jonah. “Oh, he made us cookies?”

Jonah pursed his lips and sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

TWO: FLOWERS

Jonah paced up and down the sidewalk outside of The Spoon so fast he thought he might wear down the cement. It was a crisp March day, and he was supposed to meet Cyrus for a basket of Baby Taters, but Cyrus was already ten minutes late. Jonah wouldn’t have minded too much, if it wasn’t for the bouquet of pink and white roses in his hand. He was trying not to grip them too tightly, for fear of crushing the stems, but his palm was sweating against the plastic film wrapped around the arrangement. He sighed, trying to slow his pace, trying to calm his frayed nerves. But he felt like such a fool, standing there, outside the café, alone, with a dozen roses. He glanced down at the flowers. They were so bright, so eye catching. Everyone had to know that he was waiting for a date who hadn’t shown. He could feel their pitying eyes on him.

At least they weren’t red. Jonah had made sure of that. He couldn’t risk coming on too strong.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. No new messages. And Cyrus was twenty minutes late. A worry began to build in Jonah’s chest. What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt? What if--

“Jonah!” A voice pulled him from his thoughts, and not a moment too soon. Jonah smiled reflexively at the sound. Cyrus .

“Cy! I--”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Cyrus puffed. “And...I’m sorry because I can’t stay long. I forgot, it’s my mom’s birthday, and I don’t even have anything for--Are those Queen Elizabeth roses?”

“Uh,” Jonah blinked slowly. He can identify rose varieties? Am I really surprised? Is there anything he can’t do? “Yeah, actually. How did you--”

“My mom loves those,” Cyrus bit his lip. “I don’t know if those are for, uh, anyone special, but my mom would love them, and it would totally save me.”

“Oh…” Jonah held them out to Cyrus. “Yeah, no, totally. Take them.”

“You’re the best,” Cyrus grinned, taking the flowers. “I so owe you one. Tomorrow, the Baby Taters are on me.”

“Anytime,” Jonah managed a small smile.

“I hate to leave when I just got here…” Cyrus hesitated.

Jonah gave Cyrus the best smile he could muster the energy to fake. “Go, go. Don’t worry about me. Tell your mom Happy Birthday for me!”

“I will!” Cyrus chuckled in that cute way that he did. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, and Jonah let his shoulders once again sag with the sting of rejection.

THREE: COFFEE

It was a spur of the moment decision really, something that he probably wouldn’t have done if he’d thought about it longer than 5 seconds, but he really didn’t. The idea came from something he saw online a few months prior. The sharpie came from the barista, who only gave Jonah a sideways look when he asked if he could borrow it. Then, Jonah picked up Cyrus’s iced caramel mocha and scribbled “Will You Be My Boyfriend?” on the side. He handed the pen back to the barista with a somewhat harried “thanks” and picked up his own chai latte.

He made it back to the table Cyrus had picked out for them, and slid the mocha towards the other boy before taking a sip of his own steaming beverage, trying to calm the nerves bubbling up in his stomach.

“I don’t see how you can drink something hot on a sunny day like today.” Cyrus nodded in the direction of Jonah’s chai, and picking up his mocha.

“It’s not like it’s 90 degrees, Cyrus. It’s just a nice, clear, late spring day.” Jonah spoke with a smile in his voice, but his eyes were glued on Cyrus as he sipped his drink, waiting for him to notice the words that wrapped around the side.

“God,” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “You are such a Hallmark card.”  

“Shut up,” Jonah laughed, in spite of his nerves.

“Can you believe that Buffy and Andi both bailed on us today?” Cyrus set down his drink as he spoke, and Jonah’s heart sank. The sharpie ink had smeared. It was illegible.

Jonah shrugged in response to Cyrus’s words. It wasn’t weird. They’d never actually planned on coming. This was supposed to be another chance for Jonah to show Cyrus how the felt. He’d planned on just saying it, but then he’d seen the sharpie in the barista’s hand, and now, sitting across from Cyrus, with the perfect opportunity, his silence was deafening. When he finally spoke, all he could manage was a quiet: “Oh, yeah, that was kind of weird.”

Of course, Cyrus noticed. Cyrus always noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jonah said too quickly. “I’m just tired.”

Cyrus gave Jonah and indecipherable look, and then seemed to decide that he really didn’t care to know, which Jonah thought was only fair. He couldn’t ask Cyrus to be a mind reader.

“So, when are you sending out the Space Otters schedules?” Cyrus gave Jonah a playful nudge. “I gotta start prepping the sunscreen.”

FOUR: SERENADE

Singing a love song to Cyrus might’ve been a stupid idea. Actually, it was definitely a stupid idea. But Jonah had to pick a song to perform for the summer talent show anyway, and according to Andi,he was being too subtle with his intentions. “You have to make it obvious to Cyrus, or he won’t get it,” she’d told him, with a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “He’s not used to being pursued.” And Jonah had to admit, she had a point. He had to make it undeniably obvious that he was head over heels for Cyrus.

So, Jonah picked up the phone and dialed Cyrus’s number.

“I think I’ve picked out the song I’m gonna perform for the talent show.”

“Oh, cool. What song?”

“Why don’t you come over and I’ll play it for you? You inspired the choice, after all.”

“I did?”

“You bet.”

And then Cyrus was there, and Jonah was nervously adjusting his guitar, trying not to burn under Cyrus’s gaze.

“So, is it a pop song?” Cyrus asked.

Jonah nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

Cyrus grinned. “Cool.”

Jonah finished tuning his guitar and took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.”

He began to strum, and as soon as the first few notes cut through the air, he knew there was no going back. This was one of Cyrus’s favorite songs. Jonah sang nervously at first.

When your legs don't work like they used to before

And I can't sweep you off of your feet

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks

Cyrus gave Jonah a reassuring smile, his warm brown eyes urging him to keep going. Jonah pushed down his nerves and the voice in his head telling him this was a terrible idea.

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day

And I just wanna tell you I am

Cyrus swayed along to the rhythm of the music, lifting his phone above his head like a lighter at a concert. Jonah would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so focused on singing and playing.

I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe it's all part of a plan

I'll just keep on making the same mistakes

Hoping that you'll understand

Jonah held eye contact, hoping Cyrus would understand how true the words were, hoping he would know it was more than just a song. Cyrus swallowed as Jonah sang, his face suddenly becoming something more serious. More solemn. Fear knotted in Jonah’s chest.

So baby now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Oh darling, place your head on my beating heart

I'm thinking out loud

That maybe we found love right where we are

Oh maybe we found love right where we are

And we found love right where we are

Jonah finished, set his guitar down, and looked into Cyrus’s soft eyes. “So,” he started quietly, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s great!” Cyrus nodded brightly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Cyrus shook Jonah’s shoulder gently. “You’re gonna kill it at the talent show.”

“Thanks…” Jonah trailed off. Did he not get it? Or is this his way of letting me down gently?

“And it’s super sweet of you to pick a song that you know I like,” Cyrus added. “You’re a great friend.”

Jonah sucked in a breath through his teeth, “Right, yeah. No problem.”

FIVE: WORDS

It was nearly the end of summer. Jonah had been trying to get Cyrus to see how he felt for months, to no avail. Buffy was wrong, that’s what Jonah decided. It wasn’t that he needed to “woo” Cyrus, exactly. He just needed to be obvious about it. So, this time, he was going to use his words as clearly as he possibly could. He was going to play it simple. No flowers this time, nothing homemade, but a nice, simple, classic box of chocolate.

Cyrus wasn’t expecting him, but that didn’t stop Jonah. It just meant he had the option to chicken out, if he wanted to. And a part of him did. He paced in front of the Goodmans’ home for almost 30 minutes, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Maybe Cyrus knew exactly how he felt, and was trying to avoid confrontation by acting purposefully dense. Maybe Cyrus liked someone else. Maybe Jonah was about to make a huge mistake.

But then he heard Andi’s voice in his head: You don’t know until you try. You deserve to try to be happy, Jonah.

So he steeled himself and walked up the path to the door. His hand trembled as he brought it up to the door to knock. Doctor Goodman answered the door. “Oh, hello, Jonah!”

“Hello, Sir,” Jonah swallowed and shoved the chocolates behind his back. “Is Cyrus around?”

“Yes, he is.” Doctor Goodman leaned behind the door and called for his son. “He’s coming,” he told Jonah. “Good luck.”

“Wh--What do you mean?”

“With the chocolates you’ve got behind your back,” Doctor Goodman smiled gently, his dark eyes crinkling. “I could see you pacing from the kitchen window.”

“Oh,” Jonah felt his cheeks heating up. “Thanks.”

And then Doctor Goodman was gone and Cyrus was there in his Spiderman PJ pants, looking sleepy and adorable, and Jonah felt a little sick.

“What’s up?” Cyrus asked brightly.

Jonah shoved the chocolates towards Cyrus. “These are for you.”

“What for?”

Jonah took a deep breath, trying to swallow the butterflies in his chest before he spoke. “I...I really like you.”

“Oh,” Cyrus smiled and opened the chocolates, pulling one out. “I like you, too!”

Jonah’s heart stopped. “You do?”

“Of course!” Cyrus popped the truffle into his mouth. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“Right…” Jonah sighed. “Well, I should, I should go.”

“That was all?”

Jonah nodded, tight lipped. “That was all.”

PLUS ONE

The Spoon was unusually quiet, but Cyrus was glad for it. He had a bit of a headache, and if the café had been too busy, he might not have been able to handle it. And that would’ve been a shame, because it was his and Buffy’s weekly gossip session. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

He sidled up to Buffy’s table with a devilish grin already taking hold of his face. “Did you hear about Meredith Wheeler and Jesse King?”

“Ooh, no! Tell me!” Buffy exclaimed.

“Karen Tucker caught them making out under the bleachers.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “But Meredith is dating--”

“Marcus Bennett?” Cyrus smirked. “I know.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“I wish I had something that could top that,” Buffy shook her head. “All I got is the details on Andi and Walker’s last date. They went to a gallery opening, no surprise there.”

“I guess I win, then.” Cyrus laughed.

“Gossip is not a competition,” Buffy huffed.

“I thought everything was a competition with you.”

“Oh,” Buffy scoffed. “You don’t want to start a banter battle with me.”

“Hit me with your best shot,” Cyrus popped a Baby Tater into his mouth. “This is a free drag. Don’t squander it.”

“Okay,” Buffy paused, probably for dramatic effect, and then spoke evenly. “When are you going to put poor Jonah out his misery?”

“What?”

“C’mon, you can’t seriously be that oblivious. The way he looks at you, like a little lost puppy dog? All the romantic things he’s done for you? The heart cookies, the song at the talent show? Jonah is crazy about you.”

“The cookies were for all of us, and he only sang that song because he knows I like it,” Cyrus crossed his arms. Jonah did not have feelings for him. That was impossible.

“The cookies were for you, why else would he have been there early?”

Cyrus didn’t say anything.

“To give you the cookies before Andi and I got there. And the song? The love song he performed at the talent show, and said that you ‘inspired the choice’? Are you kidding?” Buffy’s voice cracked with the force of her disbelief.

Cyrus bit his lip. “But...I mean….He’s straight.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Has he told you that?”

“No, but! He liked Amber, and Andi.”

“You dated Iris, and besides, every heard of bisexuality?”

Cyrus sighed. “Point taken.”

Buffy gave a look that seemed to say: I’m always right.

“But I...He’s so...And I’m so…” And then it finally hit Cyrus. The box of chocolates. “I really like you.” The look on Jonah’s face as he’d left. He’s been trying to tell me this whole time, hasn’t he? Oh, God, I’m so stupid.

“Cyrus?”

“I….I have to go.” Cyrus stood up from the table. "Sorry."

“Don’t apologize. Go get your man!”

And then Cyrus was running, running, running. Down the street, past the bank, hooking a right at the gas station, and then he was standing in front of Jonah’s door, sweaty and breathless, cheeks pink, hair messy. He hesitated for a moment, catching his breath, and then knocked.

Jonah’s eight year old sister, Julie, answered the door.

“Cyrus!” she shrieked in delight at the sight of her second favorite babysitter (after her big brother, of course).

“Hey, Julie. Is Jonah around?”

“He’s practicing his guitar. I’ll go get him.”

And then Jonah was there, standing in front of him, in his Space Otters jersey and blue jeans and Cyrus couldn’t think of a single word.

“What’s up, Cy?”

“I…” Cyrus gulped, trying to catch his breath, though whether his heart was pounding from the run or the boy in front of him, he couldn’t say. “Uh.”

“Cyrus?”

“I’m sorry.” Once the words started they didn’t stop. “I’ve been such an idiot. This whole time, you’ve been trying to tell me how you feel, and I’ve been so oblivious.”

“Oh…” Jonah looked down at his feet.

“Jonah, look at me,” Cyrus said firmly, and Jonah did so, slowly. “The only reason I didn’t hear what you were trying to say, was because I wasn't listening. I didn’t think it was possible that you could like me the way that I like you. I mean, God. You’re charming and athletic and handsome, and you can cook! And I’m just...Cyrus.” Cyrus took a deep breath. “I know I’ve probably been hurting you, but I promise I didn’t know what I was doing. And I really like you a lot. So, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Cyrus…” Jonah’s voice cracked. “I don’t know…”

Cyrus’s heart sank.

“You might have to buy dinner to make it up to me.”

Jonah winked and Cyrus almost fainted.

“I’d love to.” Cyrus took a step toward Jonah, looking up into his sparkling green eyes. “Does, uh, Friday night work for you?”

Jonah mirrored Cyrus’s movements, and then somehow they were close enough for Cyrus to feel Jonah’s breath on his cheeks. “Friday sounds great.”

“G-Great.”

They stood there, silent, in the threshold to Jonah’s home, for the longest seven seconds of Cyrus’s life, before Jonah spoke again. “Cyrus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Kissing Jonah Beck was nothing like Cyrus had imagined. It wasn’t fast and awkward like kissing Iris. It was uncertain and different, but it wasn’t new, anymore than coming home after months or years away would feel new. It was familiar and warm and slow. Cyrus’s heart was beating so fast he was sure Jonah could feel it.

When they broke apart, Jonah, not ready for the moment to end, pressed his forehead against Cyrus’s and smiled.

“Hey, Cyrus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m crazy about you.”

“Right back at you, Jo-Lamajama.”

#Andi Mack #Jonah Beck #Cyrus Goodman #jyrus #jyrus fanfic #Buffy Driscoll #mine #my fan fiction #my first non prompt fill jyrus fic!!! #I'm so nervous to post this #I hope y'all like it!

[wordsablaze]

Chapter Two: Promise

All Because Of A Car Cinder’s life revolved around the garage, working as a mechanic, until that one male student came in looking for a Mercedes and changed her life… AU AH Kaider story. Enjoy! 

The boy coughs as he enters the garage, probably because of the sudden change in atmosphere, but follows behind her anyway, keeping a smile on his face despite his difficulty in breathing properly.

She smirks to herself.

“Hey fireball, what’s up?” Garan asks her, a small smile on his face.

Garan had been the only kind one out of her new family. The problem was that his trade job required him to be all over the world, with only a moment’s notice. He wasn’t here to save her from Adri. And when he was here, he was organising the business or working in the garage. Not that she blamed him for doing that…

She glares at him, “Just because you’re technically in charge doesn’t mean I won’t throw something at you.”

“Yes it does.” he laughs, “Who’s that?”

Cinder curses, “I knew I forgot to ask something…”

“Name?” Garan asks the boy.

“Kai.”

He doesn’t reply with a sentence, either because he still can’t breathe properly, because he’s mirroring Garan or because he’s being efficient.

She hasn’t heard the name before but, then again, she’s never met anyone like him either. It suits him anyway – a mystical name that sounds deep, intelligent and bright.

“Are you looking for your bag?” Garan asks.

Kai nods.

Garan frowns sadly, “I’m afraid that it was crushed…”

Kai’s eyes widen, “Can I see?”

Cinder feels for Kai as Garan hands him a crushed, ripped schoolbag. Strangely, he doesn’t seem too bothered, more worried than upset. All he takes from it is a black spiral notebook, two pens and a Rubik cube.

He slips the pens in his pocket and transfers the notebook to his other arm so he’s holding the moon book and the notebook in the same hand. With his other hand, he fiddles with the Rubik cube.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Garan asks.

Kai nods, “Yes, thank you.”

Cinder gives Garan a look, which he correctly translates and leaves the two of them to walk back.

“Thanks,” Kai says.

“My pleasure.” she’s never used that phrase more truthfully.

“So, what school do you go to?” Kai asks as they’re walking back.

Cinder cringes, “Um, I don’t.”

Kai, to his credit, doesn’t seem to find this weird and smiles, “Are you home-schooled?”

She almost laughs at his obliviousness and nods so that she doesn’t dampen his spirit and ruin his crazy perfect smile, “Yeah, exactly.”

He grins, “Is it nice to have a peaceful schooling?”

Cinder thinks about how to reply.

She could just lie and agree but it might not seem realistic. And anyway, how can she say that she’d rather have those pointless dramas than the ones she faces at home? How can she tell him that she’d rather have all the annoying classmates than her sisters? How can she tell him she’d willingly take any type of school as opposed to none?

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” She settles with a vague answer, cringing anyway.

“At what time are you done with school?” Kai asks, still smiling at her.

“Normal time; we like to keep it similar, you know?”

Kai smiles, “I wouldn’t really know, I’ve not been home-schooled before.”

“Why does it matter anyway?” Cinder asks.

Kai shrugs, “I thought you might want to hang out?”

Cinder’s heart almost misses a beat but she manages to smirk, “And why would I want to do that?”

Kai looks slightly hurt at first but shrugs it off, seeing the frivolous spark in her eyes, “Just why wouldn’t you?”

She might have to buy herself a new heart if he keeps fluttering his eyelashes and smirking at her like that. She might even have to reboot her whole brain if she spends any more time with him.

Because holy nuts and bolts, the coppery colour in his eyes seems to shine brighter than embers as they walk back into the main part of the shop.

Cinder throws her hands up, “Fine, you win.”

“Oh, good. Um, how should I communicate with you?”

Cinder laughs, “Communicate?”

Kai blushes, his fair skin taking on a rosy tint, “Sorry.”

Cinder chuckles, “I don’t have a phone so…”

He looks genuinely worried, “You don’t?”

She shakes her head, “No, I’ve never needed one. I can email you though.”

“Okay, do you know your email?”

“You don’t know yours?” she retorts.

“Of course I do!” he exclaims, then smiles sheepishly, “I’m not allowed to give it out.”

Allowed? Cinder frowns at the word but puts it down to him having strict parents.

She grabs his arm, swallows her guilt as he initially flinches, and grabs a sharpie, quickly scribbling down her email in what she hopes is legible handwriting.

“Thanks. I’ll get back to you later!” Kai promises.

“We’ll see.” she grins to herself.

“Do you doubt me?” he asks, raising his eyebrow in a perfect arch.

Cinder shrugs. “How should I know?”

Kai frowns. “How should you know if you’re doubting yourself?”

“What? No. How should I know if you can keep your promise?”

Kai laughs with her but then smirks. “Of course I can keep my promise.”

Cinder shrugs, believing that most promises people make are selfish and hard to keep. But the determined look in his eyes is almost enough to restore her faith in humanity.

Or at least some of it.

“I’ll believe you once I get an email,” Cinder says.

She can’t remember the last time she’s been so forward with anyone, especially a boy. Or so awkward…

“I’ll send it!” Kai assures her with an optimistic grin.

She nods absently, then watches as he whacks his head on the glass door again with a soft groan. Cinder tries her best not to laugh, she really does.

“I promise I will, princess!” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves, barely avoiding a third collision with the door.

Cinder’s tanned cheeks blaze pink, a warmth spreading through her veins as a result of his nickname for her.

She realises with a jolt that he had no choice but to give her a nickname because she didn’t tell him her actual name.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

#ah #angst #au #cinder #emperor kaito #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #garan #kai #kaider #kaito #kinder #linh cinder #marissa meyer #multi-chaptered #my writing #romance #selene blackburn #the lunar chronicles #This is mine #tlc

[hellosophroseen-blog]

flip it n’ reverse it

So I’m writing this on the small, round wooden patio table on my parents back deck. The legs are wobbly and the table slightly shakes when I type - I am having very lovely flash backs to my office in KK00 because I used to work at a round table that had uneven legs. Although the shaking table is kind of annoying, it is mostly comfortable. Feels like wearing an old sweatshirt.

I’m currently reading Flow. It has come into my life, like many things, through multiple encounters. The first time I heard about the book and the Hungarian psychologist was at Malthouse, after many beers, about a week before I left Wellington. I remember somewhat drunkenly, but nonetheless excitedly writing it down in my notes on my phone. But then, of course, I forgot about it. The second time Flow came into my life was when I was hanging out at Alex’s last week. He bought a condo last year and had been living with his gf - they broke up about a month ago and he was talking about changing his abode a bit, to suit his recent bachelor lifestyle change. He had a bunch of books on his mantelpiece, but they weren’t stacked in a Pintrest friendly way so we started playing around with how they could be arranged in a more aesthetically pleasing formation. Then I saw it - Flow! I asked him if it was good - Yes. I asked him if I could borrow it - Yes. Then we sat at his table and smoked some muerte and he got out his fine tip Sharpie pen and wrote something in the front jacket of the book. Given recent events where Amie has been giving me books with hand written notes, addressed to me (!), on the front jacket, my ego got the better of me and I assumed that he had written me a note. When I got home I realised that he’d simply written his name, to make sure that the book came back to him. It was better this way.

So, Flow. It is written by the grandfather of positive psychology, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (/ˈmiːhaɪ ˈtʃiːksɛntˈmiːhaɪ/). Csikszentmihalyi’s ( henceforth C) point is basically this: if you are able to control your consciousness, then you are able to control the quality of your experience. Sounds simple enough (haha), but what is consciousness even? I guess I had never really thought about it - I think I just saw it as the binary opposite to being unconscious. According to C though, there’s two parts to consciousness. The first part is the biological part. Consciousness is simply a part of the human nervous system - and the nervous system is built according to instructions contained in the protein molecules of our chromosomes. This is a very scientific explanation, and one that kind of bores me - well doesn’t bore me, but it doesn’t really get me excited. But, when I keep reading - C tells me that the other part of consciousness is that it is self-directed. And, because of this inherent autonomy, our consciousness has developed the ability to override the genetic instructions (in our proteins) and to set its own independent course of action. This is where I sit up and start to pay attention. What I take from this is that although there is a biological explanation for the ‘what’, there is also a very exciting explanation for the ‘how’ - in that, basically our state of mind is so powerful that it can literally take over what was genetically pre-programmed into our bodies. Now I’m interested!

 Everyone knows that we should have a positive outlook. Everyone knows that when you have a pessimistic outlook on life, usually, negative things follow. Everyone knows that ‘mind over matter’ is a good motto. But it’s still so hard. C says it’s hard because seeing the world as a ‘half glass full’ kind of person requires knowledge that is not cumulative. The knowledge, absolute trust in the silver lining, must be earned through trial and error experience by each individual, generation after generation. This work must be done alone.

For a long time I haven’t really liked being alone. I’ve always thought that I was an extrovert, and that I drew energy from being in large groups of people. I guess this is somewhat still true, but in the past few years I have also really been tapping into the power of doing work within. Yoga has been the real conduit of this practice for me. Dropping into my breath, meditating, being okay with what is and how I am – not who I want to be – these parts of my yoga practice have been so helpful for my personal development.

The last reason why being positive is hard, is the best reason. C says that there is a big difference between knowing something, and actually doing something. Doing the work is the proof. Having recently uprooted my life, I have been presented with multiple opportunities to Do. The. Work.

This morning I had two such opportunities. The first situation seems a bit random, but for me it was really significant. I look for signs. I trust intuition. I make decisions and judgements based on how things make me feel. What’s more – romantic/ esoteric things are important to me, like the colour of the ocean and the shape of the clouds and the colour of the trees. These things have a profound effect on my wellbeing, for better or for worse. As a result, I had been saving dipping my toes in the ocean here. I was waiting for the right moment and the feeling and the intuition – for some reason, this morning was the day.

But. The tide was way out and it was muddy and the ocean was a dull grey, like the colour of dirty dish water. The sand was muddy and felt gross between my toes. But somehow, instead of getting bogged down by comparison – instead of letting that feeling of anxiety rise up from my belly into my chest which tells me “the turquoise ocean in Wellington is so much better than this”, I took a couple of breaths. I would like to think that I took a couple of steps in the right direction of my self-directed consciousness controlling the quality of my experience this morning at the beach. Those biological proteins can get fucked!

The second opportunity to practice flow was when I sat down at my computer, all Monday mode, coffee in hand, and re-looked at a job that I thought would be really good for me to apply for. I started to re-read the job description and again, that sickly sweet feeling of anxiety started to creep up from my belly. Every bullet point that I looked at in the job description seemed to point out my weaknesses and lack of experience. I opened up my resume/CV and felt disgusted. In the past, I am sure that I would have let this get the better of me. I would succumb to the feelings of inadequacy and let it ruin my day. I would be less fun to be around – for others and also for myself. When I was growing up my dad used to tell me that I was my own worst enemy. Weirdly, I thought of this as a badge that I could wear. Secretly I thought it was something to be proud of – being hard on yourself and having (too) high expectations of yourself is how you get ahead, how you become successful and satisfied. That’s what I thought.

For some reason though, this morning was different. I’ve been having these out of body experiences where I can now start to see myself doing things, and I am able to observe. I see myself slipping into bad habits and somehow I am able to intervene. Rather than letting myself slip down the self-indulgent slide of negativity, I flipped my perspective. I closed my CV and focused on what I can do well. I made a list. I sent some emails. I connected with people.

Flip it. Reverse it. See it from the other side. Don’t only KNOW that you should see it from the other side, but actually SEE it from the other side. Do the work.