Hey, Weird Request But Can You Write A G-Force Fan Fic With Brad Pitt?

Hey,

First of all, I absolutely adore your writing style and in general your stories (especially the Hannibal ones). Could you please write one, where Hannibal is overly possessive, because he thought his wife got too close to Chilton at one of his dinner parties? And to end it all of there is smut. (If you are comfortable with that).Thank you for considering

Close Call

Hannibal Lecter X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Over possessiveness on Hannibal's part, slight angst, swearing, mentions of blood and wounds, sociopathic and manipulative tendencies, uhh first time writing smut so hopefully it's okay (it's fairly light) ⚠️

I also didn't read through this again and edit it, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Hannibal finds himself somewhat outraged at an overly confident Chilton getting too close to his wife. No matter, he'll just have to remind the two of you of what's his.

Dinner parties were nothing short of extravagant when it came to Hannibal Lecter's craft.

The wines were paired with the delicacies adorning the plates on the mahogany table; everything had its own respective place, down to the last spoon and fork on each intricately folded napkin. There was, of course, the smell wafting through the corridors of the Lecters' home, signifying the delicious meal being prepared in the kitchen and acting as bait to those mingling in the living room as they awaited the call to be seated. From your perspective, the table had to be crafted to perfection so that the party full of rich good-for-nothings had no complaints of the events of the night. Of course, you adored your husband's cooking, but less so you enjoyed the company he chose. Intelligence wasn't something that came from the accumulation of degrees and the bragging of doing so- in your opinion- but rather came from the passion associated with the understanding of others and their natural environments. In other words, conversations of nonsensical retellings of the rise to power and gathering of wealth that these particular guests had were of no interest to you. These people spoke of books on law and work projects as though they've forgotten entirely what it means to express humanity: experience.

But you were ever so careful to express your opinion on the subject of what it means to be human. Although you acknowledged your differing perspective, you didn't want to diminish the perspectives of those who might only know of the desires associated with "book smarts," and not what you referred to as "experience points." These two things could coexist, but it was often that a person leaned heavier towards either side. You still had more to learn about the balance of these, but alas, that is the human condition.

Hannibal loved you for this.

Being someone so intensely driven towards the path of psychology and law, it was refreshing being married to someone who expressed opposition to having that be the basis of every conversation. He loved a good conversation on written words and philosophers and mathematical expressions, but he loved even more to have someone in his life that kept him his understanding of biology and the preservation of his humanity. With his- er- hobby, as some would refer to it as- it became difficult to maintain this humanistic approach. These dinner parties served more as an obligatory social preservation to his image, so as not to be caught with his peculiar hobby.

And the culinary arts were his escape, anyways. A win-win except for the fact you'd be bored out of your mind talking to some of these people, he knew. Nevertheless, you had a polite smile etched onto your face wearing very presentable attire. You were a master at code-switching, it seemed, replacing your usually laid-back and outgoing personality with a more hoity-toity, reserved aura.

You had on a slightly more revealing outfit; a dress so navy it almost seemed black under any lighting that wasn't direct candlelight. This dress had been cut just above the knees with an off-shoulder neckline, exposing the very top of your chest and the beginning of your upper thighs. It was classily paired with silver earrings gifted to you by your husband, and a half up-do with your precariously crafted curls threatening to spill out of the fastened hairclip from behind. Hannibal had expressed just how lovely you'd looked as he helped you with your zipper earlier, placing a hemline of kisses to your collarbone.

He wasn't the only one who'd had this realization dawn on them during the night, however. A bright-eyed Dr. Chilton who'd received nothing short of a pity-invite, found himself drawing away from the conveniently placed appetizers to the lavish chairs facing the fireplace where you sat. He silently waited for your conversation to conclude before he decided to sweep in and take the woman's place on your right, finishing the glass of brandy in his hand before doing so.

"(Y/N)," He almost seemed exasperated, as if he were already slightly drunk, "A pleasure."

He reached out his hand to you in an attempt to get you to shake it as an overly friendly gesture, acknowledgement to his presence. You proceeded to smile at him instead, as you'd become familiar to his intentions.

"Hello, Dr. Chilton, how are you?"

His face flushed as he withdrew his hand from your space, opting to rest it against his leg as he sunk further into his chair, getting more comfortable. He was definitely drunk and if not drunk, then the far side of tipsy. You already didn't care for the guy much, so this chance encounter was a hinderance in your eyes before conversational topics even arose.

"You know, I never understood the drab curtains you chose for the interior of your living room, Mrs. Lecter. They block out all of the sunlight." He began, eyeing the bottle of scotch being poured out by another guest to the left of your chair. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as he spoke, however, the dimly lit fireplace seemed to cast some light back into them. His suit of choice was a corduroy one. The heavy material of the fabric already making him break out in a slight sweat.

Grimacing, you feign another smile as you fully acclimate yourself to the conversation at hand. You tell yourself to remember your polite flattery, but honestly with the way Dr. Chilton was, you knew he would take any sort of attention to his character the wrong way.

"Yes, that was the way we intended them to be, doctor. Have you ever been to our home during the daytime? It's not as drab as you may have perceived it to be."

Dr. Chilton had been coming onto you for quite some time now. Despite knowing you were wed and the many implications of your marriage you'd spoken about, he still managed to hold onto the hope that maybe one day something would spark between the two of you. It wouldn't. It hadn't. His blatantly disrespectful comments about yours and Hannibal's relationship were starting to burrow under your skin and take root in an uncomfortable fashion. Part of you felt bad for the man, another part wanted to sock him in the face.

Respectably, of course.

"Perhaps not. Maybe I spoke out of turn." He claimed, uneasily moving about in his chair despite his initial comfortability at the beginning of your dialogue. Maybe if you kept with the slight I-don't-like-you innuendos, then maybe he would be drunk enough to give it a rest and would return to his normal self come morrow.

"Maybe." You agree, taking a sip from your glass of Chardonnay. It was almost dinnertime. You could hold out until then, couldn't you?

"You know," Chilton began, staring deep into the fire and allowing a hushed sigh to escape your lips in anticipation of another redundant comment, "I used to set fires in Uni all the time. Its a miracle I graduated with any degree at all with the amount of trouble I used to get into as a boy."

Pause. Was there finally something worthwhile to discuss with this man?

"Really? And the occasion was...?" You asked, trying to direct the topic back to this small bombshell the Doctor had just dropped in your presence. Experience points were far more interesting to talk about than a poor understanding of the "48 Laws of Power," which was the last conversation you'd had.

He seemed to perk up in his chair realizing that you'd finally taken something that left his mouth with interest. "None, we were just playing with matches and grew bored. Only got caught because the wind carried the flames back to our dorm which almost set alight." He smiled and for a moment, you could see the memory replaying through those glossy eyes of his. You felt included, as if you'd been there yourself, watching the growing light of the flames dance around the edges of the matches you were playing with.

As if on cue, your husband's hand was gently but firmly placed on your shoulder from behind. You knew instantly it was him because of the wafting smell of his woodsy cologne and the wine he was drinking infiltrating your nose. His grip on you was polite but there was an edge to it, an unfamiliar one at that. Was something wrong?

Turning around, you see his darkened glare towards Chilton in the chair next to you. His matching dark navy suit making him look all the more professional and intimidating in this light; if you were Chilton you'd have run far far away from the glare Hannibal had. He seemed to pay no mind, however, eyes still focused on you until your husband broke the silence:

"Dinnertime."

It was at that moment that you noticed all the other guests had made their way to the kitchen and the three of you were the only ones in the living room. How long had you been talking to the doctor for? Hannibal's repressed anger suddenly made sense.

Walking to the kitchen, you were in awe at the sight before you. Hannibal had really put his all into tonight, and it showed. The plates were nothing short of art with the first course on display with accompanying sauces and garnish that turned them into something out of a museum painting. The entire get-up was something out of the Renaissance itself; everything in its perfect place. Hannibal stood at the head of the table, glass in hand as he prepared to make a toast to progress the night's dinner.

"I would like to thank you all for coming out tonight."

A collection of smiles and exchanged glances ensued, everyone pleased with their invite.

"Amongst this crowd are the most intellectual and inspiring people I've had the pleasure of getting to become familiar with. You're all of high accomplishments and achievements and I would like to thank each of you, individually, with a meal that encapsulates such dedication shown by you all."

Your husband then smiled at you and raised his glass.

"I would also like to thank my lovely wife, with whom I share this simple but joyous life with."

There was a hint of something there, something alongside the adoration he expressed for you on the daily. There was a twinge of that anger once more, but could it really be directed towards your conversation with Chilton? It seemed so clear to you that your husband surpassed the former in every way possible: intelligence and compassion, hell, down to the formal attire he adorned himself with daily. There was no way he would feel threatened by another man so unruly.

"Likewise." You said, tilting your glass up to the ceiling in acknowledgement of his kind and respectable words.

"Once more to reiterate, MY wife and I spent a long time on this meal so I hope you all enjoy it." He smiled a forced grin and directed his gaze towards Chilton. "And nothing on the menu for tonight is vegetarian."

...

The night was filled with more of the usual countless bantering between everyone in the room, trying to appeal more and more to everyone else. You were swept into what seemed like every conversation in the house and all of this sociability was starting to grow exhausting. The meal was phenomenal, to say the least, but did little to calm your worries with your husband's current expression of intolerance and dismay. You wanted nothing more than to head upstairs to your shared bedroom and to sort things out with him; to maybe end the night with a passionate kiss and to then retire to bed, finally. That desire, however, seemed like miles away because of the ongoing event that you were starting to despise more with every passing minute.

Not to mention, your dress was starting to get extremely uncomfortable, as if your skin were melting into the seams of the fabric.

As if on cue to make the night worse, Dr. Chilton was making his way towards you, undoubtedly much more drunk this time. He was stumbling over his own loafers and the floorboards were not his friend at the moment. He was making a fool of himself and you wanted so badly to just disappear.

Just then, the floorboard by the fireplace where you were sitting popped up in front of him. Everything from then went in slow-motion, the wood, the stumbling of Chilton's feet and the slow advancement towards the fire. Seeing how this would play out, you wanted to yell "Stop!" but you were frozen. Just as you had predicted, he had a horrid fall towards the open flame, his cufflinks connecting with the place stones and his right arm breaking the fall. His hand wasn't lucky enough to miss the fire, his scream instantly echoing throughout the room.

"Dr. Chilton!" Hannibal yelled, already to his feet with the pitcher of water from the charcuterie table. It was insane that his reflexes allowed him to respond instantaneously. Almost as if he had prepared for the doctor's fall. Springing the water onto Chilton, the fire was put out almost as quickly as it had started.

"Are you okay?" You asked the doctor, leaning down to his level on the floor, holding his now hurt hand.

"B-b-bandages." He was able to muster out.

The closer look you got to his hand, the closer you could see the wound. The flames didn't consume his flesh for very long, although there was now a coating of red on his skin alongside a few open gashes. Looking to your husband for help, you instead saw him standing above you, a scowl on his lips. He looked angrier than he'd ever before and the sight of it scared you. Had he been angry that the party was ruined? That one of his guests were hurt?

Chilton was then led to the kitchen where his wounds were properly addressed and tended to. The aid kit that had collected dust on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet had finally been put to use, and, upon further inspection, it had been decided for the doctor to call for an ambulance for a more professional treatment.

He left. Everyone followed suit. It was now only you and your husband.

"I'm sorry that had to happen the way it did." You said, reaching out to touch his shoulder and soothe him in my way you could. "Would you like me to help you clean up?"

He mumbled something under his breath before he made his way up the elongated glass stairs. It was unbelievably peculiar for him to retire to bed this early, especially before cleaning up from a party.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, voice coming out as nothing more than a feeble whisper. He stopped in his tracks, his blazer now resting atop his free arm opposite to the one holding the railing. His tie was loosened and from where you were standing, you couldn't see his face all that clearly.

He finally spoke up.

"What are your intentions with Chilton?" He asked.

You stopped in your initial tracks to follow your husband up the stairs. Was he accusing you of courtship? And with the doctor of all people?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N)."

Your heart broke for a moment, there was no way he really thought that after years of marriage, after what you had come to learn about him and his... capabilities...that you would choose another man, albeit in front of his own eyes?

"I have no intentions with Chilton, Hanni. Not as an acquaintance, not as a friend, not as a lover." You continued to follow him up the stairs and to your shared bedroom where he placed the blazer and tie on the bedside table rather than hang it up as he usually did. He undid his cufflinks and unbuttoned the top his neckline.

"I only want you, Hannibal. You know that."

He pursed his lips and finally, from where he leant against the bed, looked up at you standing in the doorframe. Your expression was a worried one, not of someone who had underlying intentions. Hannibal knew what you wanted, knew who you wanted, but Chilton had gotten the better of him tonight. And besides, tormenting the two of you to remind both of you who you belong to was a much more satisfying game to play.

"Alright." Hannibal said, accepting your validation with his thick, Danish accent. "Show me."

"I- what?" You asked, being taken aback completely by surprise. His eyes were dark with thoughts you had grown to be all too familiar with from him. Despite clearly understanding his interpretation of the words, you still stood frozen at the door, waiting. There was something about this that wasn't going to be as sweet as the usual slow and sensual intimacy you'd had with your husband and you knew this fact.

Just then, as if taking your hesitance as permission, he stands and walks over to you, the height difference ever so apparent now that you were face to face. His gelled hair was now starting to come undone, as was yours, as he held your gaze. His hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear and then trailed to your neck, your collarbone, your breast. He then allowed his hand to go further, down to your waist and then pulled you into him, holding you there as gently but firm as one could be. He was watching your face as he did so, never breaking eye contact even once.

Your breath hitched in your throat. A growing warmth developed in your midsection as your husband had you entranced with his every move. He was enjoying this, enjoying you, enjoying the situation he put you in. He had turned on his more sadistic side and it was becoming evident with the way he progressed down your body, replacing his hands with kisses and moving towards your thighs then back up, as if with haste, towards your mouth. You felt as though you were going to faint right then and there.

He suddenly stops his kisses and then goes to finish unbuttoning his shirt. His wide frame was revealed with every unfastened button popping off, slowly but surely. Every inch of his skin had been crafted to the likes of the gods, it was as if he were one of them himself. No imperfections in his skin as far as the eye could see. He was beautiful. He was the divine definition of beauty itself.

He swiftly moved his hands to your throat, fingers following suit as he held you there, against the bedroom wall, a juxtaposition to his masterfully divine beauty of feigned innocence. His breath was hot but not unpleasant as he whispered into the nape of your neck:

"You belong to me."

And that was all it took for you to fold entirely, becoming a puppet to his every command, desires of the flesh being the only thing on both your minds. You needed him and he needed you to need him. He wanted a full surrender, a full understanding that he was the only man you'd ever be able to fulfill these lustrous fantasies with.

"Do you understand?" He asked, not giving you a second to think any further before he moved you from the wall and to the bed, where he towered over you.

"Y-yes." You said, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Good. Now take it."

Confused, you looked up at him but he had already had other plans, flipping you into your stomach and forcing himself inside you, under your dress. The instant burn that you felt was replaced by immediate satisfaction as you saw stars. Through this position you could feel him inside you, hot and intense, pushing deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He dug into you until he was all you could feel, hear, taste, see. He was owning every inch of your skin and forcing you to feel it.

And you loved it.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, anger laced in his voice.

"You." You tried your best to get out with the intense feeling between your thighs but it was next to impossible.

"What was that?" He asked once more, forcing you to say it louder.

Just as you were about to respond, he picks you up and turns you around to face him, taking in his expression. You were on your knees looking up at him, tears in your eyes at the intensity of what had just happened. Your dress was definitely ruined by this point but you couldn't care less.

"You." You said, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. He placed his finger on your lips and smiled down at you while he toyed with them. He then put himself inside of your mouth, your jaws stretching to be able to take him.

"Good." He said, quickening his original pace as he sighed with content. You allowed him to finish before the two of you fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets.

He was holding you in his arms now, making sure you were alright as he kissed the top of your head and face, looking at the marks he'd left on your skin. He'd make sure those were more visible the next time someone tried to intrude on your guys' company. Especially on a pity invite.

He'd also make sure not to let Chilton off with a warning next time, making sure to purposely set his entire body on fire, not just his hand.

But you were asleep soundly in his arms, full of him and he had won.

...

A/N : Hello! This is my first time writing smut kinda so I hope this is up to par with some other fanfic writers. I really hope this fulfills your request! Lmk if anyone has any other requests, my ask box is open! 🫶

The Gom Jabbar

I'm loving how most of the notes I've been getting lately are all from Edward Norton stan accounts

Cloud 9

TASM X Reader

Danger happens to find you on a night out, how will you manage to save yourself? Or will an unexpected encounter save you?

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexual violence, violence⚠️

"Hey you wacko," you said, hopping up beside your best friend on the cold metal bleachers of the school. The coolness of your seat was a nice contrast against the sunny 75° weather of New York City. It has been nice all week, transitioning from spring to summer and the harsh snow finally ending. You were thankful you didn't have to wear that bulky jacket anymore, and instead you found yourself wearing a light sweater and black ripped jeans. To top it off, you had your favorite pair of converse.

"Hey," he said, scooting closer to where you were seated and turning his computer to your direction, "What do you think of this interface?"

Looking at what Peter had coded on his laptop, you responded, "Your interface is fine, but you forgot to turn the Option Explicit on at the top." You smiled, knowing that you were right since you both took the same programming class.

"Ahhhh thanks! That's probably why it popped up with so many errors," he said, ruffling his floppy brown hair and pushing up his glasses, "God, I hate working with Visual Basic."

"Same here." You sighed, turning your direction to the sky above you instead of looking at the ongoing football game. It was a pretty orange color since it was after school hours. You usually didn't leave your house this late, but Peter had insisted you meet up with him at this particular football game on a Friday nonetheless. Peter also hated sports. So what was the deal?

You turned to say something to him but your breath instantly caught in your throat. He was staring intently at his computer, his glasses falling off his face and his hair a mess. He was chewing on his tongue and he looked extremely nerdy but extremely cute.

It surprised you, thinking this way of your best friend all of a sudden.

I mean, it's not like you haven't before.

There was that time in gym class where he'd lifted his hoodie off and you caught a glimpse of his toned abdomen. And that time when you had both traveled to Chicago for the Academic Decathlon trip and he had shared a room with you. Or that time-

"Whatcha thinking about?" He asked, now focused solely on you and your response. He had a knowing smile on his face and it was one that you often found yourself fancying. His eyes got all squinty as he knew what you were probably thinking. He thought the same about you sometimes, he just didn't know how to initiate the right words. He thought you would've picked it up by now that you were being flirted with, but I guess school smarts aren't the equivalent of emotional intelligence, as you were still clueless to his intentions.

"Your doofus looking project." You said, hoping to deflect the conversation back to his homework.

"You're unnecessarily mean." He smiled

"Or I'm just right as always." You smiled back.

Just then, you heard a fast wooshing noise, the sound of something being projectile thrown at you. Before it had time to make contact with your jaw, Peter flung himself in front of you, catching the stray football with one hand.

"Holy shit," you said, "nice catch."

Except Peter didn't look ecstatic over his skills. He looked genuinely terrified. Of what, you didn't know.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice fluctuating from his timidness over catching the ball. He threw it towards the goal post, and you watched as the ball collided with the metal and dented it.

"Peter?! What the hell? How did you dent that?" You asked, absolutely astonished with what just happened before your eyes. Your mouth open and your hair flying away from your face, Peter knew he had to go before he messed something else up- and potentially risked exposing his identity.

"Sorry, I have to go." He said, hurriedly stuffing his computer with his unfinished project into his backpack and grabbing his other miscellaneous papers that had flown out of his folders. He nodded towards you and practically ran to get off the bleachers.

"Peter! Wait!" You said, trying to grab your stuff as well. "Why did you want to meet up?!"

Your question went unanswered as you looked over the side of the bleachers where your best friend had just been except now there was no one there. It was as if he had disappeared without a trace when you had directed your attention towards your bag.

"What the hell was that?" You wondered.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Peter was scrambling. He had finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt but of course, his stupid new power messed things up. He couldn't let you know he was Spiderman, that would ruin everything and potentially put you in danger. What if you didn't like what he was? What if an enemy knew you were his weak spot and went after you? What if-

He ran into his front door.

"Ow." He said, rubbing his forehead. He shouldn't have gotten so lost in his thoughts. He felt bad about having to swing out of the situation (literally) and leave you by yourself to watch the game. Today didn't go at all how he'd planned it in his head.

He threw his backpack down by his nightstand and flipped down on the bed, not even bothering to say hello to his Aunt May. Things have been different now that Uncle Ben was dead and he didn't think he could listen to any more of her grieving. Sighing, he took off his jacket and turned on the computers at his desk, looking at his wallpaper of you and him from when you had a food fight.

You had surprised him by visiting him late at night when you guys were sophomores, your cute little cardigan on and your hair all curled up just to tell him you wanted to stream Donnie Darko on his tv since he had the best picture quality.

Deciding not to argue, he smiled and led you to the living room, where he watched you excitedly fix the tv in preparation for the movie night. Feeling as though he wasn't helping enough, he asked if you wanted a snack.

You said yes and he decided he was going to make you some popcorn but you had insisted on peanut butter and jelly.

You popped open the peanut butter and started to spread it on your choice of bread, the sun finally setting and casting an illuminesent orange on your figure. Peter had just walked into the kitchen after finalizing the movie plans and stopped in the doorframe. Your hair looked like something out of a magazine, your skin looking as shiny as honey and your aura lighting up the entire room. He felt himself glued to the spot, feeling an ache in his chest as he watched you do the simple task of making a sandwich. It felt as though time had stopped and he wondered why he ever settled on seeing you in a friendly way. The image before him was nothing short of a revelation as he finally came to term with his senses:

He was irrevocably in love with you.

You smiled and stared at him from where you made your spot in the yellow kitchen. "Want some?" You asked.

"I- yeah." He said, walking towards you.

"Perfect." You said, and while he was still in his daze, you put your finger in the peanut butter jar and rubbed it on his face. Giggling, you ran away towards the other end of the counter as you watched him reach up to his face and rub it off.

"Oh you're in for it now." He said, getting some of the snack on his hands and running after you. You yelped in excitement and ran away from him, first towards the left of the counter and then the right as he finally caught up to you and grabbed you from behind your waist. Both of you laughing, he rubs the peanut butter on your face and sits you down on the ground.

"You're such a sore loser," you said, punching him on the shoulder between fits of laughter.

If there was any denial about his previous thoughts of love, there wasn't any now. It was clear and he knew you belonged there in his arms, laughing in the warmth of the sun.

Peter recalled the fond memory and felt himself smiling, reaching up to the spot on his face that had been touched by you. That entire moment had led him to making a shitty playlist of love songs that would keep the memory alive and him listening to it for the entire week after. Since then, his head has been filled with you and only you. And some math and quantum theory, but mainly you.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

You had decided to go out with your friends tonight. They wanted to visit this café not too far away from the school, and they wanted to dress up, since it was a nicer place. The agenda was casual nice and you found yourself struggling to look through your closet and find something suitable. You did dress fancy, but you wanted to find something new to wear; something they hadn't seen you in yet. Going towards the back of your wardrobe, you saw a beat up looking box. Perfect! It was one of your old cardigans. Last time you wore it was....

....when you rubbed peanut butter on Peter's face. You cringed slightly at the memory. That day you wanted to confess your feelings for him, but you decided to break the awkward silence when you saw him walk into the kitchen. Truth is, when you saw him standing there in the doorway with the soft angelic glow of the sun hitting his perfectly dorky face, you felt something in your chest. That feeling was the same reason you hadn't accepted any requests for dating, even when one of the most popular boys in your school had asked you on a date. You could only think of one person in that bittersweet romantic way.

And that person just happened to be your best friend.

Sliding on your boots, you walked over to the mirror and looked at your reflection. You looked alright and once you did your hair you would look better.

Walking to your bathroom, you grabbed your curling iron and reevaluated your makeup choice. It was a soft yellow with bold eyeliner. It was just something fun you were trying out, also going so far as to add a couple gems from your scrapbooking stickers. Cool.

You picked up your purse off the floor and stepped out of your apartment.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Slipping on his suit, Peter readied himself for his journey out in the city. He usually paroled the streets at night when he wasn't swamped with homework in case there was someone who needed his help. It wasn't often that it was more that a quick dispute between friends, or an old lady needing help with groceries, but it still filled him with pride knowing that he could have an impact in some way.

He quickly went downstairs now that Aunt May was asleep and grabbed some fuel food. He scarfed down a banana and went back upstairs, opening his bedroom window and leaving the small confines of his bedroom as he went to go find trouble-or rather- for trouble to find him.

He shot his webs towards the sky. Nothing felt quite like this. The wind hitting his frame and the free falling feeling of flying. He was up higher than the oblivious people beneath him, the cars zooming past his feet and the clouds rolling past his head. Night had just fallen and the moon shone on the glass window panes of the buildings he latched onto. He would push from one end of the building to the other, relying on his webs and his strength to travel through the dark. He felt free.

Stopping atop one of the shorter buildings, he looked at the streets below. Any signs of irregular activity would signal his presence and he would be able to help. Tonight, less people seemed to be wandering the sidewalks and he noticed there was less activity in this particular area. He was about to leave when-

He saw a familiar person.

Was that- was that you? Why were you out so late and what on earth compelled you to walk out at night by yourself? Did you have a death wish? Peter knew you were smarter than that.

"Yeah I should be there in a couple minutes." He heard you say into your phone from below. You seemed rushed and he knew that you had snuck out to see someone, giving him context as to why you were out at this hour. Were you going out on a date? He saw the way you were dressed and the makeup you were wearing. He felt his heart drop a little bit, but he knew that his sole focus should be on making sure you got there safely.

So, watching you from the rooftops, he followed your movements towards one of the newer café establishments that all the kids at school were talking about. He waited for you to walk inside, but you stopped for a second to check through your purse. That was all it took for someone to come up from behind you and put their hand over your mouth.

Feeling adrenaline course through his veins, he had a rage he never knew existed before. You were in trouble, and in desperate need of his help.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

You had decided to check your purse to see if you had put your wallet in it since you didn't feel the familiar weight of it in the back pocket of your jeans. You rummaged through the contents before you were fiercely grabbed from behind, a male figure putting one of their hands over your mouth and the other around your waist. Frozen in shock, he led you to the alley behind the café and threw you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

"Hey, pretty lady. Lucky I found you tonight, I need your help."

Your hands fumbled around for the pepper spray that you kept in your purse, wondering where it had fallen on the wet street.

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding up said object as he stared down at you, a horrid smile on his face. He looked to be in his forties, an ugly inconsistent mustache on his upper lip and a dingy looking clothes. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes and that was the moment you got a complete grasp on your situation: you were in immediate danger.

Jumping up and trying to run away from the man, two other men in rugged states appeared in front of you. You were cornered. There was no way of getting out of this one. Feeling more terrified than ever before, you started to feel tears springing at the corners of your eyes.

"I'm just gonna make this plain and simple." The man who had grabbed you said as he sauntered over to you. "Strip."

Fearing for your life, you froze again. What could you possibly do? You couldn't call your friends, your phone was still in your bag. You could fight, but you knew that you were no match for all three of them. You frantically looked for something- anything -to help you fight them off.

Finding an old wine bottle you grabbed it and hit it against the brick wall of the café. The end of it shattering into twenty pieces, you raised the bottle towards the men in front of you.

"Fucking try me."

Just then, there was a flash of red and the man in front of you was stuck to the café wall. It seemed as though he was pinned by spiderwebs?

The new figure in front of you was tall and slim. He was wearing what seemed to be an intricately designed spandex costume that was red and blue. A large black spider on the front and slanted eyes led you to the conclusion that this was the infamous Spiderman that every news station had been talking about for the past few months.

Just then, Spiderman flung out his arm and more of the web-like substance flowed from his wrist, capturing the men behind you. He then grabbed you and shot the substance upwards, latching onto the rooftop above you and swinging you both over the city.

You held tightly around his neck as you watched the image of the café and the men stuck to it fade in the distance, your eyes now looking at the entirety of New York beneath you. It was beautiful but terrifying as you were so high up.

"I should've killed them." You heard the mystery man mumble under his breath and he landed on the top of another building much farther and much higher than the last one. Your makeup had to be running at this point, you were sure you must've cried from the intensity of the situation.

"I- thank you for saving me back there." You whimpered out, now finally understanding what had just happened. You had gone into fight or flight mode and you weren't sure how well you would've fought down there if it wasn't for the help of the superhero.

Peter felt something in his chest as he watched you look at the sight below. Your makeup had started to run and your hair was out of place. You looked frazzled, but beautiful. Just then, the sun started to come up, signalling the end of the night and the end to this nightmare. The wind picked up slightly and your cardigan followed your hair in a dance against your skin. You held your arms close to your chest and finally met Peter's gaze.

"You-Your'e welcome." Was all he was able to reply with.

You looked away from him, and back to the street, looking down at the scenery below. "I know I just had a near-death experience and that's probably why I have the balls to ask but, why didn't you ask me out on the bleachers today?" You asked, turning to look at your savior once more with a slight smile.

"I was nervous." Peter said but then halted in his tracks. "Oh shit- I mean-"

"It's okay, I knew it was you." You said, walking to where your best friend stood. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him in for a hug.

He melted into your touch, calm knowing that his secret was out and that you didn't think of him differently.

You then reached up to touch his face, grabbing the ends of his mask and staring at him with an 'Is this okay' expression before you lifted it off his head. Without his glasses and his usual dorky demeanor was Peter, whom you've known since the second grade. The same old clumsy looking Peter with that same old goofy grin and floppy hair. You instantly felt calm as you held each other staring into each other's eyes. This was where you belonged. You knew it that day at his house and you knew it now. It hadn't changed even though his identity did.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You said, stepping away.

Suddenly, a string of that sticky spider web stuff found it's way at your side, pulling you back to Peter.

"Let me make up for earlier." He smiled, kissing you.

It was like a million fireworks lit off in your chest at once. You were finally here. You made it. You weren't expecting your first kiss to be up this high with Spiderman, but you knew it was to be with Peter at some point. You hoped it would be.

The cars honking below and the sun coming up creating an orange and purple and yellow sky illuminated Peter and his face once the two of you pulled away from each other. He looked heavenly, soft angelic features staring down at you with an adoring smile. Your chest felt heavy and your cheeks felt hot and you had to clench your hand into a fist to make sure this was real. As if he heard your thoughts, he pulled you in for another kiss, letting go of your lips and resting his forehead against yours. You listened to the sound of each other's breathing and your heartbeat was going a mile a minute.

"This is real." He said, giving you that typical Peter Parker smile that you loved so much.

Peanut Butter Death Wish

Steve Harrington X Reader (Established Relationship) X Eddie Munson

Slight crack! Eddie is a little shit in this one, but you're a bit of an antagonist too.

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and weapons, eating expired peanut butter, sexual references ⚠️

"So uh, the Upside Down is a real place. I thought you guys were talking in D&D terms." Eddie says, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. With the way that the eerie glow of the other dimension fell on the two boys, Eddie's Hellfire Club Tshirt looked brighter than ever. Besides from the strangeness of the newfound place, it was all he could focus on as the group walked towards Nancy's house- for what, he didn't know. The infamous Steve (The Hair) Harrington was walking directly next to him and Eddie thought he looked ridiculous wearing nothing but his denim jacket and bandages. Laughing to himself, he let his gaze wander over to where you were.

You and Eddie had been friends for a while, but this stupid Harrington guy always got in the way seeing as you two were together. Eddie had wished he knew you before all this craziness so that he might've had the chance to sweep you off your feet instead of killing Demobats. You were wearing black ripped jeans and a David Bowie shirt which was slightly too large for you and hung loosely at your sides- Eddie was sure it was Steve's but he wasn't going to bring it up. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail and your shoes were triple knotted with their florescent laces. You were beautiful, and this fake snow/ash shit that fell around everywhere definitely added to your beauty. He would've continued staring if it wasn't for Steve interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, I've never played that Dungeons and Dragons game before, but all the kids like to make up names for this dimension using their preexisting ones." Steve said, unaware that Eddie was currently eyeing up his girlfriend. He pushed his hair back with his hand and Eddie saw a glistening stream of blood running down the top of his forehead.

"Uh, Steve dude, you've got some blood up there." Eddie motions with his finger as to where it is and Steve wipes it off with the back of his hand.

"Thanks, guess those bats did give me more trouble than I originally thought." He said, taking off Eddie's jacket. "Thank you for this, but I really don't want to get blood on it."

He hands the jacket back to Eddie and Eddie takes it with an unsure expression. He just wanted to be deemed worthy of Steve's time.

"Hey, I think we made it." You said, walking up to the two boys and immediately going to stand by Steve's side and assess the wounds he had. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." Steve said and you watched more blood run down his forehead, giving him a look which read "Are you fucking stupid?"

"He's lying to you, (Y/N). I saw him stumble over a tree root a little ways back, I'm sure he's getting over the embarrassment of tripping." Eddie smiled and you laughed at his antics.

"Of course he did, he's clumsy as hell." You replied and winked in Eddie's direction. He felt his heart grow ten times bigger at the cute smile you sent him with it.

Walking on towards Nancy's house, Robin struggles with the doorknob and tries to get in to no avail. The lock was stuck in an odd place and no matter how many tries from the group, it wouldn't open.

"Allow me," you said, heading for the living room window and breaking the glass, "It's not your real house so it's fine."

Steve finally caught onto Eddie's staring as you contemplated the best way to slip into the room. He hit Eddie on the shoulder with a scowl and grabbed the denim jacket out of his hands. "Here," he said, putting the article of clothing on the windowsill, "This'll make it so that you don't get cut on the glass."

"Are you sure it's okay that I use this, Eddie?" You asked, completely unaware of the tension between the two. Smiling cockily at Steve, Eddie turned to you and put his hand on his chest.

"Of course that's fine, sweetheart."

Steve felt like the veins in his arms were going to pop.

"Thanks!" You said, slipping into the living room and opening the front door from the inside to allow everyone else in. The darkness consumed the entirety of the abandoned hallways that were familiar to you. Running your fingers over the wallpaper, you remembered all the nights you spent over at Nancy's hanging out with her and watching the latest VHS tapes. Smiling fondly at the memory, you move on into her bedroom following Nancy herself, and have a look around at the posters hanging up. It might've been the Upside Down, but there was the Tom Cruise poster clear as day. You didn't understand the appeal, but hey- maybe the Demogorgons liked him.

Nancy strode over to the closet and frantically searched around for the box that would contain the guns she had for self-defense. Why she had bought them, you didn't know. You picked up the diary from the bedside table and opened up to the latest entry. 1983. The year Barb went missing.

"Where the fuck did they go?" Nancy sighs with frustration as she digs through everything in her closet.

"Maybe the Demogorgons took them?" You offer the ridiculous suggestion to no one in particular and laugh at your own joke.

"Real funny (Y/N)." Nancy says, clearly still upset about not finding them.

"No, no. I think she might be onto something." Eddie says with an antagonizing grin, looking you directly in the face. You stare at Steve with a confused look now noticing what Eddie was up to, but your boyfriend was looking down at his shoes with his mouth pressed into a hard line. He was pissed.

You throw the book over to Nancy, who looks at you with confusion. "What's this?" She asks.

"Your diary. Look at the date."

"You were looking at her diary?" Robin pipes up from the hallway with her head just barely visible around the corner. You rolled your eyes with a smile.

"September. 1983." Nancy read aloud and you watched the realization dawn on her. "I haven't bought the guns yet. That's why they're not here."

"Bingo." You said, laying back on her bed and staring up at her ceiling. Because of this, you didn't notice that Steve and Eddie had walked out of the room.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, Steve leans back against the countertop which was covered in the mysterious vines that adorned the rest of the Upside Down. He glared at Eddie who had joined him and felt the anger rushing back to him. However, he decided it would be best for everyone if he stayed calm.

"What was that?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"What was what?" Eddie asked, rummaging through the cupboards and finding a jar of peanut butter.

"You know what I'm talking about." Steve said, handing Eddie a spoon from the drawer behind him.

"Thanks." He replied and opened up the jar, still staring at Steve.

A couple of moments pass while Eddie eats his snack and Steve waits for him to answer. The punk rocker's hair was strewn all over the place and his shirt was covered in the stains from both the lake and the other dimension. Well, at least he had a shirt.

"Why are you trying to seduce my girlfriend?" Steve asked, grabbing a spoon of his own and sharing the peanut butter with Eddie.

"1983 peanut butter. Seasoned with the sky shit from the Upside Down." Eddie said.

"Can you just answer the question?"

"Oh uh. Because she's hot I guess." He says, moving towards the cabinet again to try and find another snack. Stopping him by placing a hand around his arm, Steve gave him the death glare.

"I respect you, dude. I really do. But (Y/N) isn't available."

"What are you guys talking about?" You came out from Nancy's room with the diary under your arm and your hair down now. You looked tired and worn out from all this Scooby-Doo investigating that both boys felt bad for leaving you to do the work while they had their petty argument.

"Steve was telling me to stop flirting with you." Eddie put point-blank and held out the jar for you. You walked over to him and dipped your finger in taking a little taste of it before deciding it was safe to eat.

"This shit has to be expired." You said, grabbing the spoon from Steve and popping more of the delicious cream into your mouth.

"It most definitely is." Eddie said.

"So uh, the fact that Eddie is flirting with you doesn't bother you at all?" Steve asked you with concern.

"Nah, it just makes you all angry and flustered and I think a jealous Steve is a hot Steve."

Steve found himself grow extremely hot when you said that, the blush on his face overpowering any other expression. He was nervous that you were secretly liking Eddie's antics but to find out that it was just to get a rise out of him, made him feel things he probably shouldn't describe with the third party in the room.

"Pants getting tight, bud?" Eddie asked with a knowing glance and Steve hurried to place his hands on his jeans to conceal anything that he didn't want showing. You were smiling and staring him up and down.

"I gotta hand it to you, (Y/N). Steve is sexy as hell."

"That's just your bisexuality talking." You said to Eddie with a knowing glance. He laughed and now started to check out your boyfriend.

"If you ever need a third party, you know who to ask." Eddie said, exchanging a fist bump with you.

"Absolutely not." Steve said, taking your hand with the spoon still attached outside of the Wheelers house.

Dating Tyler Durden Would Include....

Requested by the very lovely @hyuugasmary

Part two!!

⚠️ Warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of blood I think? ⚠️

So, you've found a way to get the most wanted man in the world to be your boyfriend. Him being wanted because of how gorgeous he is, but also wanted for the crimes he's committed. This should be fun.

Tyler has the largest infatuation with you. With the way your hair falls over your eyes or how your skin glows when you're out in the sun working in the garden- that type of stuff. He swears that your eyes were more gorgeous than any bar of soap he's blown something up with, even though he most likely wouldn't admit that to anyone but himself. Again, he knows where his priorities lie, but he's one to care more for the intimacy of language.

Many would say this is Tyler's "first life" meaning that he was not an old soul. This would make him overenthusiastic about everything and someone who contains a lot of excitement. This carried over to you, of course whom he finds to be the most exciting thing of all.

When Tyler walked downstairs from his room in the Paper Street house, all eyes fell on him to see what their leader would say. With his oddly printed shirts and wacky pairs of pants, he seemed almost out of place with how grimy and cluttered the rest of the house was. However, there was also a part of him that looked too perfect in this setting. The first time he walked downstairs and heard you yelling insults at his Space Monkeys, he felt his heart beat faster with the admiration he felt towards you.

Your boyfriend is very committed to his cause, as you probably know already. He's willing to do the most ridiculous acts just to show his contribution to the chaos and that's just what he decides to. So when he was in the bathroom ready to shave all the hair off his head, you joined him instead of being surprised he was going for the change. You helped him shave his head and then you asked him to shave yours. Tyler thought it was very badass of you to do that for him and Project Mayhem and he likes to remind you of how sexy it was on the daily.

If you rub Tyler the right way by doing everything in your power to love and care for him and to keep him happy throughout his sadistic tendencies, he might just appoint you to the leader of the Demolitions Committee. If this happens, Tyler trusts you more than anyone else- including himself.

He struggles with insomnia. As the stories go, he was raised in a mental institution and doesn't sleep for weeks on end. Only a part of this is true as you know your boyfriend can go a day or two without any shut-eye. Most of the time the only way he'll truly fall asleep is when he has you in his arms or by his side; listening to your breathing and feeling your fingertips graze the soft but calloused skin on his palms. He wants to know that you're safe at all times.

Tyler doesn't usually talk about his emotions when it comes to his insecurities. Insecurities that you might leave him after finding out about everything he's done or insecurities about not being good enough for you. Mind you, Tyler's confidence is very high but he wants to make sure that your relationship is a two-way street. You do so much for him and he wants to make sure you know he'll reciprocate that. You're usually able to pry these negative thoughts out of him once you're alone together up in his room or cleaning up after a fight in the basement of Lou's Tavern.

This can lead to some minor issues between the two of you if he plays off his insecurities. It can become small arguments but everything is usually fixed after make-up sex.

Sometimes, you have a habit of picking up each other's movements and catchphrases. You tend to find yourself leaning confidently against doorframes or with your hands up above your head, holding onto a part of the ceiling. You also picked up some of his phrases such as "The things you own end up owning you," or, "After a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."

He picks up your favorite sayings and even starts to smile more since that's a very you thing. Being around someone who appreciates him and his psyche means the world to him and allows him to start showing more fondness for life.

It takes you a while to get used to your new place when living with Tyler, since the water wasn't always clean or the electricity didn't always work. You usually make the best of it but sometimes it's frustrating when your hair (or what's left of it) becomes really greasy. Tyler kinda picks on you for not adapting right away but hey, you did lose a lot of versatile solutions to modern living.

Tyler enjoys date nights. He won't do anything crazy, so don't expect extravagant restaurants or shiny new jewelry. Instead, be excited over a late night drive to look at the stars or listening to records you stole. You know how he has his whole "down with capitalism" rant so usually you two stick to something that doesn't require contributing to that.

Bonus!

Exchanging glances with Tyler while he's giving his speeches on total destruction and absolute chaos. He'll even wink at you in front of the other Space Monkeys.

Trying to fix some of the pipes in the basement with him. His shirt is off and he's sweating everywhere while he duct tapes the openings closed and oh god do I need to continue?

Tyler allows you to hang up the licenses you collect from people like Raymond K. Hessel. You like to put them in the door to your bedroom in a decorative way, all of their names and faces on display.

Going on flights with Tyler to set up new clubs. He's usually the one by the window seat and you're the one flipping through the manual, drawing flames and terrified faces on the diagrams with the paint markers you keep handy.

Wearing your boyfriend's infamous red sunglasses?!

If you're a non-smoker Tyler would do his best not to smoke in front of you due to your distaste for the drug. However, if you do smoke- expect sharing cigarettes. He'll light one and walk around the house with it dangling between his lips, only for you to take a long drag from it when he's least expectant of it.

A/N: I hope this is okay! Thank you for requesting<3

💛🦐

✧✧Wandering Eyes✧✧

MIN YOONGI X READER

A night at the frat house leaves you wanting more from the mysterious man who somehow has a way with words. From tequila shooters to shooting stars, Min Yoongi has all the knowledge... and the charm.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sexual innuendos, basically anything that you would see at a college frat party ⚠️

The speakers were blaring that all too familiar but never comforting music that you'd grown so used to being in and out of frat parties. Knowing the guys came with its perks; occasional free alcohol and admittance to private parties. However, this Euphoria themed event was not sitting right with you. Sure, you had dressed up with your blue lace romper and glitter under the eyes to match, but you still felt solemn inside. Unfulfilled. Taking another shooter off the counter, you hurriedly downed the taste of tequila and prepared to lose yourself in the music that you didn't listen to.

Reaching the middle of the floor, you bump into someone who had been dancing with their friends. Tall, honey-skinned, and dark hair, his look was complete with his taste of fashion. The shirt he chose to leave whichever dorm he was staying in was very mesh and very see through. His chest has been glitterfied just as everything else at the party and his eyeliner perfectly shaped his almond eyes.

"Hey," he said, voice deep and concerned, "You okay?"

However, the music was still too loud to make out anything this man before you was saying. Everything was starting to become a blur you realized as the alcohol finally hit and made its way through your system, intoxicating your body and your mind. This wasn’t your first drink of the night, that was for sure as you were trying your hardest not to pay attention to the wandering thoughts in the back of your mind. Trauma from your past had started to resurface and it felt as though the night sky fell on your chest, collapsing your lungs between the Earth and infinity. It was all too much for you to handle, a song timed just perfectly in the shower to make you remember those nights spent alone in your room and the smell of your blankets bringing back the nostalgia of it all. Being a freshman was still new and the invigorating feeling of being on your own was something you had grown to love. However, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back down the path to the way things used to be and the troubles you had. 

It wasn’t something that could fully be expressed which was the worst part. It was those little things that led to a 10:00pm breakdown, sure, but it would sound unimportant if phrased to someone as you dopped all your feelings. They would see it as nothing more than on overreaction on your part and would shame you for not being stronger in their heads even if they weren’t brave enough to say it out loud. So, the solution to everyone’s problem was for you to leave the uncomfortable dorm you resided in and do what you do best. Cope.

“I’m fine.” You slurred out, still aware of your surroundings although they had taken on a hazier feel. Your limbs started to feel heavy but you continued to lose yourself in the beat of what you assumed was The Spins by Mac Miller. Frat Boy Favorite. 

“Are you sure? You look a little tired.” The guy said, voice laced with concern. It was almost aggravating how eager he was to seem like your Prince Charming.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” You said bluntly, as you moved away from him, taking another swig of a beer you don’t remember paying for at the bar table. You don’t even like beer. 

The lights started to change color and you assumed that meant Jungkook was messing with the remote again. A tall and somewhat lanky guy, he was one that you didn’t expect to join the frat as quickly as he did. He seemed more like the nerdy gamer type and that’s exactly what he was until he had worn a sweatshirt which read “Take Yo’ Panties Off” and the guys asked him to join the next day. His story of pledging was the funniest to you out of the rest of the guys and he was the newest recruit as well as one other whom you had yet to meet.

The other guys within the frat, Namjoon and Seokjin were the oldest. They were both seniors and had a very particular way of doing things. Namjoon was tough on the other guys as he wanted them to embrace traditional procedures and to respect one another. Seokjin was less traditional and more modern. He knew people didn’t join frats for the brotherhood, they joined to drink and he made sure that fun was always #1 priority of the guys. As one could see, they butted heads quite often but everyone had fun in the end. 

Jimin and Taehyung were Juniors. Jimin was the absolute fuckboy and he prided himself on that fact. Bright pink hair and studded jackets, he drove the girls (and the guys) absolutely wild, each one of their crushes on him somehow continuing to exist knowing they were only a one-night stand. He was seductive with his entrancing eyes and he could persuade any random person off the street into bed with him if he so desired. 

Taehyung wasn’t as crazy as his counterpart, but he was also on the fuckboy scale. Big puppy dog eyes and the sluttiest outfits a man could wear (and he wore them to class, they were not exclusive to parties) he also knew how to use his good looks to his advantage. He and Jimin would write lists for the week to see how many notches they could get under their belt and would compete against each other for the highest. It disgusted you, yes, but they were your friends. 

Hoseok was the happy drunk. The brother that was always at parties to drink and to have the best time imaginable. He was usually the one that worked the DJ and would play his favorite tunes as he stood atop one of the chairs in the corner of the room and pointed at the mob of dancing people below, trying to encourage them to sing along with him. Hobi was your favorite. Definitely. He also gave the best hugs. 

Sitting at the minibar, you toy around with your red solo cup, dragging your finger along the indentations and counting the individual dots. When you lost count, you would start from one again and would quietly scold yourself for not remembering if you were on twenty-eight or twenty-nine. You were thankful that the Euphoria party allowed for you to cry and it would be on theme and not an actual issue. The glitter tears were complimented by wandering eyes and not addressed as a problem to the people who approached you about it.

“I love your makeup.’” Great, another guy who can’t take the hint. The seat next to you filled with an average sized male in a blue button-up and platinum blonde hair. It was definitely dyed but it was a good look for him, you thought. His smile was gummy and sweet and had a summery vibe to it, like it was a smile only few people got to witness at a time and he was sharing it with you, a stranger who was unbeknownst to anything of his lifestyle. His eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his attempt at guyliner and a little glitter; he was definitely not the experienced with makeup type. He held a Vodka Cranberry in his left hand and a phone in his right with black nails painted so perfectly you could see your reflection in them. Something about him struck you as the type of person who was actually quite interested in what it was you had to say, and not someone who was desperate to get laid this October evening. 

“Thanks, I’m glad I could show off my skills with the same makeup everyone else is wearing.” You said sarcastically, hoping he was the joking type so this upcoming conversation wouldn’t be too painful to have. 

“It definitely looks better on you than it does on me, I think.” He said, asking one of the guys for another beer. Namjoon was on bar duty tonight and he gave you a knowing glance as if to say, “I know this guy is your type, but if something happens let me know.” 

“Nonsense. I like it.” You said, sending Namjoon the “I’m okay” eyes. 

After a couple of moments, it seemed as though your compliment would be the end of the conversation. Blondie had his drink and the music started playing another upbeat tune from Hobi’s interesting collection of songs. The bass could be felt through the floorboards as you stood up to go to dance again. But, as you were about to head out, you were tapped on the shoulder by the boy from before who was now standing up and motioning towards the speakers. 

“My name is Yoongi, by the way. I would love to dance with you if that’s okay?” He phrased it as a question so as not to make you feel cornered into a decision you didn’t want to make. This one was definitely a keeper. 

“(Y/N). Try to keep up.” 

The lights then changed to red and the song’s pace quickened. The dance floor became rabid with Hobi’s choice of playlist and as the tempo became faster, the drinks were downed in the same manner. You were feeling really good now as you let the blackness swallow you whole and allow you to feel free. No worries. No assignments. No drama. Nothing. 

Nothing but you and Yoongi. 

It was almost astonishing how terrible he was at dancing. You weren’t too great yourself, but you were able to sway to some rhythm whereas Yoongi looked like a baby deer caught in the headlights. He gave it his all though and that’s what counted in your mind. Besides, it was kinda cute. 

Your eyes flitted to every area of the room, making sure you were aware of your surroundings in case this conversation went south. Jimin was body rolling next to the same guy who you’d talk to earlier and you figured it would be the better choice for him since you weren’t really interested in one-night stands. Hobi was still dancing and upon noticing your gaze starts to point at you and drunkenly mouth the lyrics to Midnight City by M83. He sent you a smile and crouched down to the table below him, reaching for the infamous Pickle Borg (a pickle jar filled with vodka). Jungkook was over by the beer pong table playing flipcup and trying not to let his bucket hat fall off while he took shot after shot with Seokjin. Namjoon was still at the bar watching over everything but side eyeing the drinks he wasn’t allowed to have being the bartender. Taehyung was probably in the smoke room. 

Just then, Jungkook walked over to the two of you in his drunken state with that stupidly overpriced pink sweatshirt with the panties saying. He had spilled beer all down the front of it and his shoes were sticky with the residue of whatever concoction he had out of the funnel the guys bring out for the newcomers. Seokjin was bringing out said funnel once more which conveniently was a traffic cone they stole off the side of the street. Grimacing, you wondered what the inside of it looked like considering the boys hardly ever cleaned the Frat House. 

Jungkook put his arm around Yoongi and laughed as he stumbled towards the wall, leaning on the platinum-haired boy for support. “You drinking from the funnel, man?” He asked.

“Jungkook,” you said, curious as to why he would offer since you both know the rules, “that’s exclusive to frat members?”

“It is,” Seokjin piped in with the funnel in hand and a bottle of Cracken stuffed in his back jeans pocket, “Yoongi is one of the new recruits.”

And then it hit you as to why he was so nice. Why he hadn’t tried to make a move on you when you were in front of Namjoon. He was friends with the guys. Or would be, anyways.

“Oh.” Was all you said before the funnel was placed above Yoongi’s head while he crouched down to his knees to make it easier for Seokjin to hold it. Jungkook was tasked with pouring since he was too drunk to hold anything and he took the Cracken out from his friend’s back pocket and unscrewed the top off, taking a swig himself before he poured it. He held the side of it with his pinky finger and balanced the glass on his arm as he drank the proper way before he took the rest of it and dumped in into the cone.

Yoongi’s mouth wrapped around the bottom part of the funnel as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down with every swig he took. Even while drinking he looked beautiful and you didn’t know if you thought that because you had a genuine interest in the guy or if it was because you hung out at the frat every night. He didn’t spill a drop as the funnel slowly emptied and before any time had passed, he was up in the air back on his feet with arms outstretched in victory, Jungkook hugging him at his side and laughing with him.

Yoongi stumbled a bit over to you as he leaned and whispered in your ear; alcohol coating his breath and making his words sound sickly sweet. 

“That skill of mine carries over to the bedroom, you know.”

Your knees felt weak as you took in the weight of his words. He winked before turning back to Jungkook who was offering him another shooter. You told yourself that the kind of forgetting you needed to do tonight would be fixed by the alcohol and nothing more; you would not allow yourself to sleep with any guy no matter how drunk you were. But he was really pretty. And he did insinuate romantic attraction first. 

You were eighteen. Who gives a shit anyways?

“Prove it.” You said as you watched him smile, grabbing his wrist and leading him up the dark stairs towards an unoccupied bedroom. 

Netflix Subbers, I beg to differ, Moon Jo seems more the kind of man to say 'My Dear' instead of 'Babe'. I can also live with 'Darling' or 'Honey'.

Promise pt.2

PAUL ATREIDES X READER

You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.

The summery orange sky cast long shadows against the wooden floor, the sun illuminating the sands and everything within the castle as it set across the Arrakis sky. It was warm and comforting, but a reminder of the scorching heat of the outside. Looking out to the distance from the corridor window, one could see the crevices left by the sandworms in their wake; the earth caving in where they had dug through.

Walking Paul through what was once the Harkonnen House, you noticed things about the place that you hadn't before now that you had time to walk around for yourself. For instance, the way the stained glass windows of the downstairs cathedral style rooms created patterns against the ceilings and made everything a rainbow color. Or the way your shoes made noises against the freshly polished wood of certain areas within the home whereas they didn't on the smooth stone. There was a slight breeze that filled the hallways and flew strands of Paul's hair out of his eyes and all around his face. His eyes were a piercing grey-blue with an intensity in them today that you haven't seen in a while. His chiseled features were set in a frown as he glanced about the hallway, looking in any direction other than the one you were in. It was irritating.

"Something on your mind, sir?" You asked the tall boy next to you, awaiting a response.

"I thought I mentioned that we could drop the formalities between us?" He said in a short and curt tone. What was with him today? What had put him in such an agitated mood since leaving the dining hall?

"Forgive me Paul." You said obviously starting to get firey with every word that managed to escape your lips. Why is he being such a..... What did he call it the other day again? Bitchass?

He let out a puff of air and the expression on his face calmed a little. "I apologize for the abruptness, I just came back from an interesting conversation with my father."

His father! You hadn't caught a glimpse of him since the Atreides family had moved in. Always busying himself with the plans to harvest the spice and to keep the Fremens at bay, he was almost invisible.

It was getting harder and harder to accomplish your mission.

"Your father..?" You asked, leaving the conversation open for him to add his own input. If he could give any clues as to where he was or something in regards to strategies the Duke Leto shared with him in private, you might just be able to carry through with the attack before anyone got suspicious.

He pushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes and stopped dead center of the hallway, giving you a clear notion that he wanted you to pause your tour. His fingers twitched at his side and his anxiousness was evident, even through the facade he put on in front of you. You wondered why he would be carefree and heartfelt one moment and then tense and stoic the next. Was he struggling with his duty of becoming heir to the throne? Had his father mentioned something so troubling that things had gone haywire?

"I found a Hunter-Seeker today. It was in my room this morning."

The air around you suddenly felt cold. The comfort of the sunlight was no longer within the corridor as a chill ran down your spine. That wasn't a part of the plan.

"A-a Hunter-Seeker? Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure since I was almost killed." He said with a matter-of-fact tone. So this is what was stressing him.

"Did you contact anyone outside of your intermediate family? Did you talk to the guards? What did Hawat have to say about the ordeal? Is your mother-"

"Ataraxia." He held you down in place sensing your worry. Something about the way he held his palms against your shoulders calmed you down. It was a comforting touch but it could also be deadly if anyone is to see the two of you like this. You are, after all, just supposed to be a servant.

He paused a moment before you looked up at him with fury in your eyes. This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't told of there being another assassination attempt for the Atreides family since this was supposed to be your reconciliation with the Harkonnens. This was your ultimate approval of trust.

Maybe you were taking too long.

"Ataraxia? Why do you look angrier than me? I was the one who almost died." He pondered aloud.

Your hand went to caress the hilt of your Crysknife within your pocket to calm yourself. You were letting too much information slip through the cracks by allowing yourself to be upset over this. Paul was right.

"Forgive me. I lost my sense of place."

"It's quite alright. There's no harm in delving into one's own thoughts." He smiled with a pained expression and made a movement to carry on towards the end of the hall. You followed suit.

⏳⏳⏳

You pushed your face down into your pillow that night with an angry scowl and a menacing gaze. This was uncalled for. There was no one within the Harkonnen House that would be fit enough for your position; how could your uncle exile you to your home planet and force you to do his bidding without keeping promise of his reward? It made no sense as you were favored over Feyd-Rautha.

You turn over and stare at the ceiling above you. The maids quarters didn't have the skylight that your old room did; a place where you often found solace. It was impossible trying to sleep in the dingy and unkept room that you were expected to and instead you decided that you were angry enough to break the rules and be less cautious.

You were going to sneak back to your old room tonight.

The Atreides family hadn't used it yet to your knowledge. They had busied themselves with the other floors, being quick to set up offices and bedrooms and not having the time for much else. Hawat chose his own room and his training room on the far side of the House which left the upstairs basically uncharted. You would have to be quick throughout the halls as to not be seen, but once you had made it to the skylight room atop the roof, you would be fine for the night.

Slipping past the other sleeping maids, you made your way to the hall and slipped out the door. The night sky shone in through the many windows of the ancient building; the Arrakian moons almost as luminous as the sun. This moonlight allowed you to see as you slipped through the shadows and made your way to the staircase across from the Dining Hall. Being cautious of each step, you silently compiled yourself and your anxieties with sneaking out as you found the room with the only silver handle in the house. It had to be pushed inwards, not turned. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to enter.

The skylight was the same as you remembered and as you'd figured, there was not a box in sight. The glass dome showed the stars and the moons of your beloved planet and the galaxies far beyond which were sure to be home to many other living creatures out there. You wondered what the extraterrestrials would be like and you shivered at the thought. Slimy and green you muttered to yourself and you laid on the floor, tilting your vision up to the sky.

"Slimy and green?"

You jolted backwards upon hearing another voice within the room. Twisting your body at a weird angle, you instinctively grab at the knife in it's holster and prepare yourself for a battle.

His brown hair was all curled in awkward places; a difference than it's usual contempt state. His lounge wear hugged his body in ways that were meant to provide utmost comfort, but it was clear that the set was too big for him. His eyes shone through the dark with their familiar friendly yet motivated gaze.

"Paul," you said, lowering your guard, "you scared me."

"My apologies, I promise you that it wasn't my intention." He smiled and positioned himself to lay next to you.

"What brings you up here? I figured everyone would be asleep." You asked. It was slightly annoying having to see him everywhere and never having any time to yourself. You always had to put up a front so that you would be able to carry out your duty in the end. It gets exhausting after a while.

"Should I be asking you the same thing?" He grins again and for a split second you could've sworn that he had made a suggestive look downwards. Just as quickly as his gaze was on you, it was back to the stars ahead and his eyes shone with the luminosity of it all.

"Right. I just- found this place the other day. Thought it would look cooler if I went to see it when the sun wasn't up." You lied straight to his face for what seemed like the millionth time that day. How many more lies would you have to tell?

"I come up here occasionally to watch the stars." He said, patting the space next to him to motion you towards the spot you were originally sitting in.

You calmed down and lowered yourself towards the ground next to the boy you were meant to kill. It felt odd knowing that you were playing a nice conversation with someone who would be bloody by your hands within the next couple of days if you played your cards right. You thought about carrying his beautiful head severed from his petite frame to Vladimir and receiving your reward for pleasing him. You thought about the way he would look next to both Jessica and Leto in the horrible graves of the bodies your uncle dumped when he was done profiting off of their murders. You thought about the smell of his ashes as he burned within the ground and joined the night sky that he looked at now.

And Paul thought of you. He'd hate to admit it, but you had taken over his mind lately. Fierce and opinionated, you were a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't met anyone his age nearly as interesting as they had all been too busy with that cursed Bene-Gesserit crap that he'd been forced to learn at such a young age. You were different.

And while you thought of his blood he thought of your lips. The way they would taste against his own and if you'd even like that. He thought of the way you outshone the stars and your intelligence of the cruelties of the world. Two kids forced to grow up too fast. He felt his chest make crazy palpitations; only something that happened when he was around the erratic Ataraxia. The mysterious girl who shrouded herself in the only darkness this planet had to offer. For once, Paul was thankful they had left Caladan.

You looked so beautiful with your hair sprawled out around you and your face tilted towards the glass above. The light brought out the angles of your face so that Paul could see you in a different way; he was used to seeing your skin kissed with the orange glow of the sun and now he could see the same you but with the silver of the moon. Paul wondered if the Fremen's spice dreams were of things just as beautiful.

The timing was almost so perfect you could feel it on your tongue. One hand on your knife, your mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kill him. With a quick stab under the ribcage, he would be gone in moments. It would be too difficult of a wound to heal medically, and while he was gasping for air you could slit his throat. He was leaning into you and you were leaning into him. Two strikes would be all it took.

The timing was almost so perfect Paul could feel it on his tongue. One hand inching closer to yours, his mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kiss you after thinking about it for so long. With a quick shift to his side, he could execute it fast and meaningfully as he hoped you would feel the same passion as him. It would be difficult to convince his parents to let you be with him and he knew he could be facing a lifetime of troubles if he really decided to be with you. There was just something so alluring about it that he couldn't help himself. You were leaning into him and he was leaning into you. One kiss would be all it took for him to know the truth. Was he in love?

One of you with the intent to kill and the other with the intent to love. Either way, it was a dance with death and the game the two of you were playing was dangerous.

Who's heart was going to break first?

⏳⏳⏳

(AN: Part Three coming soon!!! This was a short chapter, but I've been busy with a lot of things and haven't had as much time to write. I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for the second part!! Thank you for reading 💛🦐)

Tags: @die-collective

I am sobbing

STRANGER THINGS Vol 2 | Papa (4.08)