Current Fan Creation Landscape Is Kinda Like If You Went To A Party With A Homemade Cake And Everyone

current fan creation landscape is kinda like if you went to a party with a homemade cake and everyone takes a slice and silently thumbs up at you with no attempt to start a conversation except for occasionally some guy sits in the corner with a tape recorder critiquing the cake as though he was a restaurant critic and another guy is handing the cake to an uber driver like "yeah i need you to find a restaurant that makes cake like this so i can have more of it" and the only person that's talked to you in 30 minutes is a very sweet little guy who was like "hey i liked your cake" and then ran away apologizing for bothering you the moment you said thank you.

thank u fen!

Tailor Made

summary: reader is a costume designer for the Lennox House club, and Blue needs a new suit.

blue jones x reader

no smut, fluff, tension, pining, blue being blue, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

pro tip - highly recommend listening to tailor asmr or ambient asmr

He needed a new suit. Gorski had a theme for the performance tonight, and the suit jacket he had wasn't quite the right shade of red. Usually, Blue didn't wear his suits more than once, but he'd keep the ones he liked.

Sighing, he pulled on his undershirt and slacks and waltzed towards the fitting rooms. Tedious, tedious, he griped, to fuckin' stand there and pretend to be interested while the elderly seamstress held up different fabrics. He couldn't even smoke.

Blue rapped his knuckles on the door and shoved it open, snapping to get somebody's attention. The hanging racks were glimmering with the finished costumes for the girls tonight.

Cabernet red with gold and pearls. Apparently his suit was 'Merlot' and that wasn't the same.

"Bullshit," he grumbled, adjusting his collar. The designer, who, come to think of it, he'd never known the name of, walked stiffly over and looked him up and down.

"What?" She said flatly, "I'm in the middle of sewing fifty ruffled skirts, it's gonna have to wait."

Blue's jaw ticked. He never liked her attitude. "I don't like waiting," he snapped, "I need a jacket and a pocket square. Cabernet red," he added, like he gave a fuck.

The woman sighed, checking her watch for dramatic effect, and nodded to the back. "You'll be fitted with Darling. Now get out of my shop," she ordered. Blue curled his lip, smacking her ass as he passed. The nerve of that woman. He should have replaced her.

Darling. He didn't remember a Darling. Hopefully she was faster than her boss - she couldn't spend less than an hour just taking measurements.

"Hey," he called into the next room, "I need a-"

oh.

"Hello," he purred, looking at the girl standing over a pile of silk. He'd never seen you before. You stared at him, frozen like a deer in headlights. Your expression was wary, lips pinched and hands curled protectively over your chest.

"You must be Darling, yes?" His hooded eyes appraised you slowly, examining every lock of hair. You nodded slowly.

'Have...have I done something?" You asked quietly, eyes large and dewy. Oh, you'd be fun.

"Hm..." he pretended to think about it, reveling in the way your lips began to tremble.

"No. But I do need a jacket, so let's get to it," he grinned, clicking his tongue. You were very well behaved, obediently gathering your things and flicking through a large binder.

"I'll have to measure you," you said softly, "this shouldn't take long." You hovered your hands over his wrists, waiting for permission. He inclined his chin and you raised his arm to get the length of his torso.

"You've got manners," he noted, lips twitching. You nodded bashfully, murmuring thanks. Blue watched you delicately wrap the tape around his chest, then shoulders. Your fingers were light and gentle.

He'd like to fuck you.

But this game was fun, watching you flit around and look at him with your doe eyes. He was tempted to ask for two jackets, just for an excuse to watch you. If he sharpened his tone just enough, you'd reel away and school yourself demurely, then continue with another air of obedience.

Like a little bunny, Blue thought with a chuckle. You were fitting his collar, lips pinched in focus, when he couldn't resist the urge to stroke your cheek.

You froze, hands stuck on his lapels. You didn't move away, rigid with terror. He preened with the effect he had.

"Scared, bunny?" he murmured, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He paused, thumb caressing the shell. The soft sugary smell of your soap was enticing, and he leaned closer.

Your swallow was audible. "No, Mr. Jones," you whispered. He grinned, teeth glittering in the low light.

"Blue, please," he drawled, patting your cheek and leaning back. He could see the relief on your face, your shoulders slumping and a slow exhale from your rigid posture. That was good. You were being very good - he had a mind to make you a role model for the dancers. In these days he could hardly keep them in line. It was a relief to know he hadn't lost his touch.

You nodded dutifully and finished his measurements. His jacket was done in two hours, as he watched greedily from the corner. He was content to watch you all night, the way your curves showed through the drape of your dress. Everything about you was soft and innocent and he so wanted to grab a handful and break

No. No, he didn't want to break you. Then he couldn't play anymore. But he did want a taste. You would occasionally make eye contact with him, and he'd do a little smirk. As the hours went on, you got more and more relaxed, coming up to him with a question or comparing velvet to crushed velvet.

While your melodic voice was explaining the different colors, he was not listening at all. Frankly, he didn't care what color it was, they all looked the same. But he'd stand there all fuckin' night if it meant you'd keep talking and absently touching his back.

He was vaguely disappointed when you finished. You draped the coat over over his shoulders and nodded, straightening his tie and smiling to yourself. Blue stuffed his hands in his pockets to refrain from grabbing your face and kissing you stupid.

The show would start in an hour, so he slipped out, grinning like a fox. He liked his new toy.

And he played with you any chance he got. Did he need a new suit three times a week? No. Did he go to get fitted three times a week? You bet your ass he did.

It was by the eighth visit that you'd begun to enjoy your appointments. He could see it in your eyes, the sparkle that would appear when he sauntered through the door. The flinching had stopped and your voice was stronger. He'd touch you innocently, but inside he was purring with pride.

He could do whatever he wanted and you'd obey without question.

Blue was admiring your ass in a skirt when he realized you'd asked him a question.

"Hm?" he asked, still glued to your supple legs.

"Do you want a matching tie or not?"

What he really wanted was to run his mouth all over you and shove you in his pocket so he didn't have to share. Fuck the tie. Better yet, fuck him.

"Sure, honey," he said, folding his arms. "Whatever you think."

You'd smiled at him that time.

The next time, though, was different. The door, for one, was locked when he arrived. Already in a bad mood, Blue knocked firmly. He was, to his knowledge, the only one who went to you. Were you out?

"Darling," he called through the door.

It creaked open to reveal you with pincushion in hand. And another man with his back to the door. Blue slowly looked between you. You recognized the dark glimmer in his eyes and shrank away.

"No, don't hide, pet," he cooed, patting your cheek. His gaze was still stabbing the new guy in the back.

"Who's your friend?"

The man turned and averted his gaze respectfully. He was in his undershirt, presumably getting a new button-down. Blue had never been undressed that far. You looked away when his sleeves were rolled above his elbows.

Ah, so a special friend. Blue grinned, all teeth and malice. "I don't think we've met," he seethed, grip tightening on your face. Your lips wobbled.

The man straightened. "I'm a new patron," he said airily, "Madame Gorski recommended your little tailor here. Pretty thing, ain't she?"

Blue's fist cracked across his nose, sending him into the wall. You clapped your palm over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut. You knew his temper was out of control.

The man howled, steadying himself against the wall in time for Blue to grab his neck and shove him out the door. "I don't wanna see you again," he growled, "not near her and not without me."

He slammed the door shut, chest heaving. The adrenaline of his scuffle sent his heart racing. Blue rolled his shoulders, trying to shake himself of the hot rage burning his veins.

He'd been so naive to think you'd be well behaved forever. Breathing deeply, he turned to face you, grin sharp as a blade. You were cowering in the corner.

"I thought this was an exclusive establishment," he said softly, anger bubbling under the surface. "I thought we had an arrangement." You were trying to press yourself into the scraps of satin as he stalked closer, hands flexing. You were mumbling apologies, breaths getting faster and faster.

His toes were touching yours, looking down in contempt. Your large eyes were teary and shaken.

"Poor little Darling," he pouted in false sympathy, "got a little greedy, didn't she?" You shook your head violently. Blue raised his eyebrow and nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said sternly, "yes she did." Catching his venomous tone, you slowly corrected yourself, nodding uncertainly. He smirked.

"Say it, bunny."

"I was greedy," you stuttered, trying to steady your voice. He leaned closer, dark eyes narrowed.

"What was that? Don't be rude, sugar, I know you have manners."

"I-I was greedy, Mr. Jones." Your cheeks were hot with shame and glittering tears ran tracks down your face. He cocked his head, dangerous gaze still locked on you.

"Will it happen again?"

You shook your head again, sniffling.

"From the top." He sat back pridefully, gloating in your embarrassment. Hiccupping, you wiped your eyes.

"I-I was greedy, Mr. Jones, i-it won't happen again," you said, keeping your chin up. You bit your lip against another sob, looking to him for approval.

"Good girl," he murmured, patting your face. "Not so hard, huh?" He leaned closer like one might approach a feral cat, still stroking your cheek. "No more tears, honey," he wiped them from under your eyes. "Don't stain the silk."

You nodded apologetically, avoiding his gaze. Gently, he angled your chin up to look at him. If it had been any other girl, he'd have you on your knees, but the hardwood would bruise you. Doll-like in your appearance, he was afraid to break you.

"You've done such a lovely job, darling," he murmured, leaning in to inhale your soap. That jittery shyness was shining through again, and he rubbed your shoulder caringly. "Don't be shy now, you were making such progress."

You looked at him imploringly, searching for the hidden meaning. Finding his eyes glassy and soft, you leaned in. Blue felt a rush of pride at your compliance, petting your hair and kissing your jaw. The cold metal of his jewelry warmed against your heated skin. His hands were rough in contrast to your dewy complexion. As his attention continued, the apprehension slowly left your body. Your head was tucked into his shoulder. Your eyes were soft and sleepy, completely at his mercy.

"Lay on my lap, darling," he whispered, arranging your legs over his. He was throbbing with need but the moment felt too delicate to pop just yet. Fabric rustled under his legs as you moved, trying to get comfortable.

"Did...did you need something?" you whispered into his collar. "I thought you wanted something to wear."

Blue traced your shoulder blades thoughtfully. "Mmm, I might've," he pondered, "but I think I prefer this." With great control, he gently patted your ass. It was too much. The vanilla smell was everywhere, and you were completely without restraint. He could do whatever he wanted...

Don't break her yet, he reminded himself, sucking a mark into your neck. You keened and sat closer, giving him access to your neck.

His gaze darkened. Later.

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found it

flufftober prompt 1 - lost pet meet cute

a/n: yes I know BB8 is not a pet, but he's pretty damn close and it's my fic anyway.

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, poe being Sassy, reader is afab and racially ambiguous. she works as a comms officer.

The fields were quiet this early in the morning. You took the long way to your station, through the winding trails of the Yavin base. The foliage was glowing softly in the early morning sun. Even the birds were still rousing, lazy cooing peppering the silence. A warm cup of caf hugged to your chest completed the picturesque morning.

You stood on a hill, looking at the shining metal hangar from afar. So many pilots and techs rousing to go save the galaxy.

But your favorite had yet to arrive. In the recent weeks, you'd met a friend that made this morning walk even better.

"Hey, bud," you grinned at the fast-approaching metal ball. A BB unit, scuffed orange and white, whirred a happy greeting and bumped against your ankles. Giving his antennae a little shake, you extended your hand.

"Walk with me?"

A small metal arm protruded from his side, which you gently took in your palm. Slower, so that the little droid didn't get caught on a root, you two made your way towards the Comms tower.

He belonged to somebody; his condition was too nice to be a rogue. But nobody had filed a missing report, and he always went back to his pilot by the time your shift started. Besides, you had a soft spot for BBs. Their big black eyes made your heart melt.

That sweet morning moment warmed your chest throughout the whole day, even as a stressful mission tore at your nerves. He'd be at the same place in the evening to walk you back.

What a little gentleman.

Today was an event. Even arriving early, you'd scrambled to get in place before the first squadron took off. There was a mixup on the schedule, so half the shift showed up late and the other half had to cover three different missions at once. No caf had been shipped on time, so the cup you had that morning sustained you - barely - for the rest of the day.

All in all, you were fucking exhausted.

The suns were setting quickly. You stared out the window, a yawn cracking your jaw. Somebody tapped your arm.

"You look wiped, babe, wanna ride with me? Taryn will drive," your friend Anya said, concern knitting her brow. For a moment, your heart ached to leave your little buddy, but he'd understand. A walk would not help your exhaustion.

Nodding, you loaded into her land cruiser and promptly knocked out. It felt like a blink before your stumbled into your tiny hut, tearing off your boots and falling into bed. You'd wash the sheets later.

Somewhere around midnight, an incessant whirring pulled you from your den of sleep. Groaning, you squinted at your watch.

"Whassat?" you croaked, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Something was outside, cracking sticks and scuffling in the mud Probably a rat.

Beeep. Beep beep beep-

Not a rat.

Frowning, you peeked out the window. A familiar white dome was darting in and out of the bushes, rolling faster than you'd ever seen him.

"Bud?"

You poked your head out the door, shivering at the cool air. The movement stopped. You puffed out a cloud, trying to find your friend. A familiar whir, then an eighty-pound metal droid collided with your knees. Howling, you stumbled back inside.

"Dude -fuck- buddy, chillout, your metal is like a frozen rock," you hissed, any remnants of sleep shocked from your mind. He chirped apologies, rolling around you in fast circles.

"Sorry I left, I was tired." You patted his side. BB-8 let out an indignant crackle and you snorted.

"Damn, didn't know this was such a big deal."

Standing, you yawned. "Thanks for the check in, dude, but I gotta go back to-"

"GET AWAY FROM MY DROID!"

fucking what the-

You dropped the blanket and screamed, falling backwards into a pile of leaves. BB-8 whined shrilly, a short electric pop shocking you from his surprise. An enormous crashing sound, and a shadowed man burst through the underbrush, blaster raised. A squad of birds took off at the massive arrival and swarmed your hut.

BB-8 immediately approached the man, whirring so fast his hubcap started emitting steam. The man dropped to his knee and started whispering back and forth, too quiet for you to hear. Not that you cared, you were trying to become as small as possible underneath your ratty blanket.

this is why we don't take random animals home, your mother's voice echoed, they always belong to somebody.

Well, she shoulda mentioned something about droids.

"Um, excuse me?"

You froze. The man cleared his throat and you heard him step closer. Carefully, you craned your neck to peek from under the quilt.

"Uh, hi," he waved, still shrouded in darkness. You blinked back, dumbfounded. BB-8 stayed close to this guy's ankles, clearly encouraging.

"H-hello?" you croaked, sitting up when you realized he had pocketed the blaster.

"Sorry about that," he laughed sheepishly, his silhouette rocking on his heels. "I uh, I thought something else was going on."

"I gathered that," you sighed, brushing the dirt and crud off of your pants. The blanket was trashed; you'd wash it later. Laundry day suddenly just got bumped up. Any remnants of sleep were gone.

BB-8 chirped softly and you smiled. "Yeah, I figured I had to meet your pilot one of these days."

The man looked at the droid. "How'd you know I was a pilot?"

"...BB units ae specifically assigned to pilots."

"Oh." He cleared his throat again and shifted his stance. The silence was beginning to be uncomfortable, and you really wanted to go back to bed.

"I-"

"Well-"

Both of you laughed this time, and you opened the door a little wider, initial hesitation gone. "Would you like to come in?" You offered.

The man shook his head. "No, I've taken up enough time. And besides, Beebs needs a cleaning." The little droid sputtered and smoked.

"Don't fuss, little man, or I'll use the yellow sponge."

Terrified, the droid zipped into the underbrush. You waved goodbye and shook your head. Never a dull day. Or night.

"Captain's got something for ya," one of your coworkers mumbled in your ear, clapping your shoulder. Frowning, you set aside your headset and peeked into the control room. Your amused commander was watching BB-8 carefully balance a tray on his little round head.

"Buddy?"

He beeped and slowly rolled over, spinning wildly to avoid dropping his precious cargo. Precious indeed - a steaming cup of caf, fresh from the shipment. You mentally pumped your fists and grinned, snatching the hot cup from your little friend.

A sticky note was attached to the side.

thanks for babysitting - Poe

You weren't sure who the fuck Poe was, but he was a gem for sending coffee, so you weren't complaining. Taking a long, grateful drag of your liquid gold, you gave Beebs an appreciative pet and saluted your captain. She smirked and gestured to the hall.

"The delivery man wanted to speak with you," she said airily, winking. Affronted by her weird attitude, you apprehensively followed BB into the hall.

Leaning against a set of control panels was one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen. Is that the guy??

Upon seeing you, he jolted to a straighter position and stuck out his hand.

"Hi," he breathed, "Poe Dameron. Sorry about--last night, that was, um, yeah, sorry," he said, scratching his neck. You were too absorbed in his deep brown eyes to register his nervousness.

"Yeah, sure thing," you mumbled, blinking back into focus. Damn, you didn't know pilots could be that pretty. Even sweaty helmet hair suited him.

BB looked between you, unsure of who to nudge first. He picked his pilot, bumping gently into his boots and sending up hopeful coos. You rocked on your heels.

"Uh, I have to get back, but thanks for the caf," you said, smiling. Poe looked up from petting his droid to send a dazzling grin up at you.

Feeling like a ball of joy, you floated back to your position and spent the rest of the day spacing out in amazement.

In an instant, you were trudging back up the hill, BB at your ankles. It was a cooler day; the Yavin summer was turning quickly into monsoon season. You needed to hurry home to put up the rain shields.

Stopping to catch your breath, you shrieked when a large hand closed over your shoulder.

"Shit-sorry," Poe hissed, backing off and nearly tripping over BB. "Sorry, sorry, I only wanted to walk with you. Shit, are you okay?"

You were doubled over, desperately trying to calm your rocketing heartbeat. Could you ever have a normal conversation with this man?

"Fine," you gasped, righting yourself. Poe's gaze softened and he smiled. Clearly he'd showered and a divine glow was shimmering around his hair. Again with the lethal face card, this guy. As if breathing wasn't hard enough already.

Naturally as blinking, Poe took your bag from your shoulder and helped you over the hill, walking arm in arm. Were you dreaming? He smelled wonderful, and he chatted amicably as you walked. There was a certain charm radiating off of him - one that drew you in like a magnet.

BB whirred contentedly between you, occasionally throwing in his two cents as you teased each other over rank.

"For a Commander you're awfully uncoordinated," you poked, to which he responded with a dramatic eye roll and a "careful, you don't wanna get demoted."

You felt a twinge of disappointment as your hut came into view. Poe's grip tightened then released.

"Thanks for the walk," you said, admiring the way the sun fell on his eyes. He smiled and they twinkled brighter.

"Sure. 7 tomorrow?"

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"Your shift," he elaborated, "you leave for work at 7. I'll meet you here. Beebs told me," he added at your suspicious look. A shamefully loud giggle threatened to break out of your mouth, but you coughed to cover it.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"See you then, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder. You waved, keeping your composure until the door closed, after which you screamed into a pillow and never stopped smiling.

"You left out the best part," Poe whined, nudging your shoulder. You cocked your head, sipping the tall flute of champagne.

'Whaddya mean? That's literally the-"

"What about the part where you fell shamelessly in love with me the second our eyes met in the darkness and you couldn't resist my rugged charm?" He pouted, fluttering his dark lashes.

"Poe," you chastised, tapping his nose, "it was dark, I couldn't see you at all. It coulda been Finn for all I knew. Or General Ackbar."

He gagged animatedly at the thought as your audience guffawed. The warmth of the night blossomed in your chest, and you adjusted the straps of your dress.

"Can we go home soon?" Poe asked, leaning against your shoulder. His day-old stubble scratched pleasantly on your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "Really, dear?"

"I'm tired, and you look real pretty, and I think I read somewhere it's inappropriate to undress in public, so...please?" If it wasn't your wedding that you were hosting and that you needed to attend, the doe-eyed look he was giving you might have tipped the scales. But you hadn't even cut the cake yet.

"No way, Commander, you still need to prove yourself on the dancefloor."

"After?"

"Only if you walk me back," you murmured, kissing him warmly on the lips.

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nice

flufftober prompt - scent (day 3)

summary: You've got a very specific perfume that Nathan loves. He'd like to be around it all the time, but he struggles when you leave.

cw: none

This was the most frustrating project of his career? This, this stupid little pet project that was stupidly sentimental and not even something he cared about. Well, he did, a lot, but it was stupid.

Nathan sat crossly on the floor, an array of glass bottles around his feet. They were all open; floral, woodsy, spicy and aromas emanating from them in a powerful wave. It make the room feel almost humid, and a raging headache was pulsing behind his eyes.

He sighed, picking up the next one and taking a whiff. Woah.

Too much sandalwood.

The headache pounded, blood sloshing achingly around his sinuses. This better be worth it.

He'd tried literally everything. His android skin had a new capability for an artificial pheromone, of which could be scented with anything. The obvious choice would be your perfume. He'd snuck the bottle from your bathroom and jotted down every ingredient. Coding it had been a bitch but he got it done.

It still wasn't right.

You were out at some stupid gathering for a baby shower, so he couldn't smush his face into your neck and take a big whiff. If he could make Ava smell that way, maybe you not being here wouldn't bother him so much.

Nathan tossed down the clipboard and stalked out of his lab, snatching his boxing gloves on the way out. He needed fresh air if he hoped to get anything done.

Fuckin' impossible, he griped, sweat pooling under his chin. The thud thud thud of his gloves on the sandbag sent a satisfying ache through his shoulders. He ran through the algorithm over and over, timing the different inputs with his punches. It should have worked. He'd done a trial with some random combination of peppermint and it smelled identical.

Nathan slammed his shoulder into the bag. As he re-adjusted his stance, he got a whiff of-

hey. Whipping around, he searched the surrounding room, rubbing the condensation from his glasses. His gaze darted around the compound, hands at his sides.

Where- he knew you were there. Why weren't you coming to say hello? Scowling, he turned back to the bag and shrieked.

You grinned at him, a huge pink bear in your arms. Heart pounding, he scowled.

"Coulda fuckin' said something," he grumbled, stripping off the sweaty gloves. You wiggled your eyebrows.

"And miss that display of manliness? No way." Leaning forward, you pecked a kiss on his cheek. "Go shower, I wanna hug you."

Nathan ignored you, crushing you against his chest anyway. You groaned at the feeling of his damp shirt against your dress, attempting to shove him off playfully. He took the opportunity to mouth at your neck, drinking in the delicate smell.

Giggling, you pushed past him and nodded to the hall.

"What have you been working on?"

Nathan averted his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. "Algo," he said vaguely, rubbing his beard. You rolled your eyes.

"Duh, Einstein, I didn't expect you to take up knitting."

His lips quirked and he followed you to the kitchen. Your perfume hung everywhere, flooding his nose like a warm breeze. He loved that smell. A feeling of relief and comfort was undeniably tied to it; he'd felt soothed the moment he caught a trace.

While you prepared a snack, you chattered about the shower, discussing women he'd never met and the horrendous roster of baby names. It went all in one ear and out the other. Nathan kept his nose stuck in your neck, breathing slowly and steadily. The migraine had dulled to a mild ache, and he was content to fall asleep.

He didn't realize he'd stopped moving until you waved your hand in front of his face.

You cocked your head, poking his cheek. "Earth to Nathan? You there, baby?"

His eyes were dilated and soft, hand caught on the hem of his shirt. After a moment he nodded absently, kissing your cheek.

You watched him go quizzically. Before he reached the door to his office, he turned. "I need you for something real quick, come here."

Wiping your hands on a towel, you peeked in and saw the mess on the floor. Your eyebrows quirked. "Starting a perfumery?" You coughed at the strong odor.

He gave you a cross look and gestured to sit down. A tablet was open to a long list of code, cursor blinking. Nathan fiddled with something, humming absentmindedly. You took a moment to look around, smiling at the few pictures he had on his wall beside prototypes and old monitors. Sap, you thought fondly. Your favorite picture, the two of you on a hike, was centered on the wall with a nice oak frame.

He tugged your hair gently to get your attention.

"I need you to tell me every product you use," he said, pulling up a document on his device. "Makeup, shower, perfume, everything."

You stared.

"Why?" It was such a left-field question, so utterly out of character.

His dark gaze leveled with yours. "Shampoo?"

Wrinkling your nose at his stubbornness, you sighed. "Coconut vanilla. My conditioner has lavender and shea butter...uh, I dunno about shaving cream." He nodded, typing your answer. You shifted closer.

"What are y-"

"Next," he interrupted, blinking expectantly. Mildly affronted, you continued.

"Almond hair oil, sometimes I add dry shampoo, sometimes I don't..."

He frowned. "You smell the same every day, you always use that."

Your mouth was set to continue, but his comment made you pause. He was...huh?

"What the hell are you doing, Nathan?" your tone shifted, firmer and a little less silly. He caught it, the tips of his ears reddening.

"It's for a project," he muttered, shifting so you couldn't see his screen. Eyes narrowed in curiosity, you crept up behind him and nosed into his shoulder. He leaned in for a moment, then caught on to your plan and wriggled away. Your fingers danced under his shirt, digging into the sensitive skin of his sides.

Nathan swore around a huffing laugh, trying to escape your smothering affection. Laughing, you crept after him, fumbling to grab the tablet.

"Hey hey hey hey," he protested, tucking it under his shirt. Your hands were shaking as you cackled, flopping into his lap. The look on his face was attempting to be upset, but the glimmer in his eye was pure amusement.

"C'mon," you said softly, coming down from your fit, "what is it?"

He huffed and looked down, pretending that the floor had suddenly become interesting.

'Ava," he started, then cleared his throat. His tone shifted professionally, back into Genius mode. "Ava's chemical receptors can have...an artificial pheromone and I thought," he frowned, clearly trying not to blush, "I thought your perfume would be...nice."

"Nice."

"Yep."

He huffed again and tried to get up, but you wrapped your arms around his middle. Nathan grumbled but still buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply. A smile tickled your lips. You petted his head, feeling the raspy smoothness of his scalp.

Nathan realized he didn't want Ava to smell like you. He had you forever, he didn't need some shoddy replacement. That familiar drunk feel was churning in his chest, warming him from the inside. You met his lips in a sweet kiss, staring at him with such raw adoration that he had to duck away.

"If you miss me you can just say," you teased into his shirt, scruffing his beard with your fingers.

Fighting a smile, Nathan stuck out his tongue. "Shush, you."

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“all i see is smut” “why can’t i find fluff and angst and not smut” “how come fluff isn’t—”

yet when nonsmut fics come across your dash you don’t support it by circulating it with a reblog. smut is pushed because it’s the smut audience that tends to be more supportive when it comes to boosting the fics they read 💗

clever boy - MK x GN!reader

reader gender is not described could be literally anything. inspired by this post that made me giggle for ten minutes

sfw, no risky content, just silly cuteness. jake isn't mentioned sorry lockley stans but maybe I'll do another version w him <3

Steven and Marc, Marc and Steven. The two of them, peas in a pod. Keeping each other company in Steven's tiny flat.

Until, you.

You'd caught both their eyes, really, but Steven called dibs because he was fronting when you'd met. Though, Marc argued, he was feeding the poor guy lines because he was blushing so hard he couldn't think straight.

From the first day, Steven wanted to jump the gun and tell you how pretty you were and invite you over forever and gush and gush but no. Marc was patient, reminding him to breathe, to take his time. They were in this together, and he didn't want his hope for your affection to be crushed by his headmate's eagerness.

So Steven sat back, hands wringing his sleeves and a stupid smile smarting his cheeks. You thought he was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. His sass made you keel over laughing, listening to his funny recounts of ignorant customers or mishaps on the bus.

He was sweet and pretty and so, so clever.

Which is what first planted the seed of doubt that he didn't like you the way you liked him. Steven, as much as he stuttered, was sharp as a tack. He loved puzzles and trivia and escape room games (though the real thing made his hair stand on end). You thought for sure he'd sniff you out in an instant; your growing crush wasn't discreet.

But he never mentioned it, never made a move, nothing. Marc, whom you'd met a few weeks later, was also very smart. He liked deeper conversations, and his warm gaze would be intensely focused on whatever subject you'd picked. Surely, if Steven missed your hints, Marc would give him a wink and a nudge and bam, game on.

Still, nothing but platonic smiles.

Little did you know, a tug of war was raging in your friend's mind the second you left his flat.

The three of you shared a wall, so Marc ensured his whisper-fights with Steven stayed quiet.

"Too soon," Marc hissed into the kitchen mirror. It was small and round, and you had left a little sticky note with a smiley face on it for them to see in the morning.

Steven was tearing his hair out in the small frame, eyes round and watery. Mate, I've never had this much courage to do anything in my life, you know that, please, it can't be that bad!

Marc gritted his teeth. Naive little Steven.

"What if you scare them off, huh? We've known them for a month and you think they'll jump in just like that?"

Steven paused his worrying, realizing for the first time the kind of fallout that might occur. His cow eyes saddened, imagining the empty space that would replace you, if you didn't reciprocate. He couldn't live with that.

"Just a bit longer," Marc sighed, rubbing his face. He needed to sleep. Steven continued to fume, for once at odds with his best friend.

You'd noticed his distance. Steven, always happy to see you, had withdrawn. He waved quietly in the morning, and mumbled a good night when you passed his door. It stung. Marc was stoic as ever, but his jaw was tighter and he didn't look you in the eye.

Something was wrong.

So, like any good friend would, you picked up takeout and a few movies and knocked on Steven's door.

It took a few moments, but your favorite mop of curls soon peeked out from behind the frame.

"Oh, erm, uh, heya, sorry, did we plan something? I, um," Steven still didn't look you in the eye, fumbling with the latch as he stuttered through an apology. You stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

Smiling what you hoped was gently, you eased his worry. "I just wanted to say hi. I brought snacks," you said, holding up the warm bag of food.

Still nervous, Steven nodded and beckoned you inside.

Bollocks, he griped. Marc was having a conniption, trying to come up with a reason to push you back out. It's raining, Steven pleaded, and we haven't hung out for ages and Thai smells really good and they've got that cute sweater on-

That's the problem, Marc tossed back, you'll trip all over yourself like a fool. Lemme front-

Steven had to bite his lip to stop from yelling his dissent. He'd been pestering Marc to invite you over for days, now was his chance.

You were dividing the curry and rice into equal portions while he poked through the movies and games you'd brought. There were a couple of his favorites, Clue, James Bond (The originals, of course) and some he didn't recognize.

"Hey, what's this?" He grabbed a small box and peered at it. You paused your chopsticks and leaned over.

"Oh," you said around a mouthful of rice, "I dunno, Rachel from work recommended it." You picked at your food as he flipped it over to read the back.

20 Questions, it was titled. Forty different cards, each with a subject. One person had the subject and the other had to guess what it was in twenty questions or less. Only three hints allowed and nothing made-up.

"Let's do it," Steven decided. He enjoyed a challenge and if it meant he could hear your lovely voice, he wasn't complaining. Marc had fallen silent, taking to brooding in the background. Probably for the best - he wasn't very good at puzzles.

You wiped your hands on a napkin and took the first card.

"A classic movie," you read. Steven rocked on his heels for a moment, fiddling with his plate.

"Got it," he said.

You knew what to start with. Steven loved classic movies, but none of the scary ones. Probably something historical.

"Does it take place in the last fifty years?"

He nodded, chewing. One.

"Does it have a female protagonist?" Two.

He shook his head gleefully. That familiar Steven sparkle was back, and it eased the worry in your head. He wasn't so off, then. Maybe just a bad week.

"Does the man have a whip?" You were grinning, sure you'd got it. Steven's lips twitched - he knew he'd been found out.

It took only two more questions for you to guess Indiana Jones, to his shock. You blamed it on luck rather than the adorable predictability of your friend.

Steven's turn next, and it took him halfway to guess "Fondue" at Favorite food. You went back and forth, giggling at each other on the floor of his rainy flat. Steven protested when you argued that he couldn't use himself for Favorite Superhero.

"I am a hero," he wheedled, gesturing to the Moon Knight stuffie you'd got him as a joke.

"Yeah, but you can't guess yourself," you argued. Nowhere in the rules did it say that, but it felt good to have your bickering sessions. You'd missed this - bantering over stupid issues with tummies full of food and a fun game to play.

Steven blushed when you mentioned it. "Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I got busy, 'n Marc was being pissy 'cause - yeah you were, don't be a knob," he muttered to himself. Your grin twitched at the mention of your other friend.

"How is Marc?"

He swallowed thickly. "Uhm...he's, uh, he's swell. Hang on, sorry-" There was a pause as he flickered between scowling and mumbling.

You ignored his stuttering and resumed eating. He needed space at the moment; Marc was probably arguing over something. You didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Steven said sheepishly. "My turn, yeah?"

Setting down your empty plate, you nodded. Flipping a card, you saw alarm flash across his face. You laughed nervously.

"What?"

He swallowed and smiled nervously. "Nothing, nothing. Ah, I guess, we can skip it if you want...?"

You snatched the card and froze. Longtime Crush.

Fuck. Stay calm, this will be fine. A door of opportunity glowed in your mind, and you smiled.

"No. Let's do it."

Steven, still wary, nodded and tried to push away the intense shame inside. This was going to crush him. He could feel Marc's annoyance through the barrier. Told you so. Not wanting to ruin your game, he soldiered on.

"Is...are they...a man?" You nodded, eyes glittering. God this was worse than torture.

"Have you known him very long?"

You thought about it. "Yeah, I guess. Feels like forever." Great, you'd had a childhood crush all along. He never stood a chance. Marc was burying his head in his hands. Steven wanted to push him to the front so he could have a good cry, but he needed to face it. His fault you were here anyway.

"Do you see him at work?"

"N....Sometimes," you added. He scrunched his nose.

"Whaddya mean sometimes? Either you do or you-"

"Next question," you laughed. Steven wracked his brain.

"Oh, bugger, uh...." he didn't want to pry, but he couldn't think of anything.

"Need a hint?" You were on the verge of cackling. Grumpily, he shook his head.

"Does he live nearby?"

"Definitely."

He pursed his lips, thinking of your small social circle. Your work was a tiny office, there had to be a few guys that he knew.

"Does...Is he friends with our friends?"

You nodded. "He's very close."

He had to be missing something. "Fine, gimme a hint."

"Well," you began, smile stretching to the moon, "he's very clever. He'd like this game, I think. He likes to laugh, but he can be quite serious too." Ignoring the fact that you'd given him two hints, Steven's heart wilted as he noticed the starry look in your eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a lucky chap.

Marc was miserable, gloominess radiating. Steven felt awful, he hadn't meant for this to go so poorly. Just get through the questions, Marc grumbled.

"Where does he work?"

You tapped your chin. "Well...he's got two jobs."

His eyebrows raised. "Busy fella, huh?"

"Yeah." Your lips quirked. "Almost seems like he's two people."

"What's his jobs, then?"

"Let's see...it's very unconventional," you said slowly, a cute smile on your face, "Sorta self-employed."

Steven cocked his head at the confusing answer. Self employed? That's not really a second job. Marc shrugged. We're kinda self employed, so it could be.

It was strange how many similarities he found between himself and this mystery man.

"I'll give you a hint," you said after the moment dragged. Steven vehemently shook his head.

"No, I've got it, swear."

You giggled. "it won't count, promise. He's got a pet fish."

Steven threw up his hands in exasperation. "How've I never met this man?! We sound almost identical, I'm sure I'd remember him!"

You were bent over laughing now. He sat there, bewildered, while Marc watched with growing understanding.

Steven, he hissed. Steven, hang on.

Stop being a spoilsport, I know you're mad, Steven retorted, too invested in the game.

"Marc's met him," you said between fits, tears streaking your cheeks. Marc opened his mouth again but Steven waved him away.

"Nuh uh, I can do this," he said determinedly. STEVEN! Marc was shouting now, thumping his hands in vain.

You'd stopped laughing, grinning like a loon while you waited. He'd get it now, surely, you hoped, the fading laughter revealing your anxiety.

Steven had short-circuited, eyes flicking around like a pinball machine.

"You're clever," you murmured, "you'll get it."

He snapped out of it and raked a hand through his messy curls. "Hang on, hang on, what? This doesn't- how can he be friends with our friends when the only man friend you've got is me?" He was genuinely perplexed, triggering a sympathetic smile from you.

Marc was in fits now, and Steven was getting a headache. Oi, Marc, chill out a bit, yeah? I'm trying to-

Steven for once in your life listen this is important oh my God-

"What?" he relented, mouthing sorry at you. Marc heaved a breath and closed his eyes.

You. Us. Steven, it's so obvious.

Steven rolled his eyes. "Me? You've lost it, mate, really, you've gone mad."

He froze, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh my days, sorry, I didn't mean to guess so soon, sorry-"

You did nothing but grin, leaning closer. "Clever boy," you whispered, then pressed your lips to his.

Marc fainted.

Steven, sweet man, had frozen, too preoccupied with his internal screaming do understand what was happening.

Oh.

oh.

His hands found their way to your cheeks and he giggled, the sweet sound muffled against your lips. It was clunky and off-centered, but it was real and he was laughing and every insecurity he'd ever had vanished in a puff of smoke.

You pulled back for a breath, but Steven hadn't finished, chasing after you with a huff. Marc, finally back online, was sitting in a lovesick stupor. Your lips were soft and your hands were rubbing soothingly down his back. A quiet solitude had blanketed the flat, now dark. Steven leaned his head on your shoulder and you hugged him tight, smiling into his neck. The two of you breathed together, winding down from the excitement of your game.

Once you'd sufficiently relaxed, you pulled away and were met with Marc's twinkling gaze.

"Y'know, I was the one that gave Steven the head's up, so I think I-"

"C'mere you," You huffed, peppering his cheeks in light pecks. He preened, taking a heavy sigh of relief. Marc leaned in and captured your lips, licking gently into your mouth. He'd definitely had more practice, and your heart sang with joy.

Game over, plates empty and hearts full, you curled up and watched the rain pitter-patter in the warm comfort of your home.

yes i think steven loves james bond. he is the type to try and figure out the mystery along with the movie. also 100% knows all cinema trivia Ever To Exist. Marc hates it.

xox thank uuuu

part 2