#But then they broke out and its raining spiders help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lazycats-stuff · 4 months

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Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.

Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.

(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.

Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.

He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.

All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.

His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.

But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.

(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.

He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.

Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.

Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.

Match made in hell, so to say.

The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.

His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.

At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!

Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.

" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.

" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.

" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.

" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "

" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.

" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "

(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.

It was the driver's fault.

But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.

He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.

" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.

" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.

" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.

Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.

Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.

Nothing more.

But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.

They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.

He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.

And then you have Gotham.

But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.

He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.

After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.

" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...

Bittersweet beyond belief.

He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.

" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.

And she loved him.

While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.

Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.

They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.

" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.

Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?

" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.

" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.

" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.

They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).

" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?

" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.

" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.

" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.

" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.

" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.

" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.

" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.

(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.

He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.

" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.

" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.

" Yup. "

" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.

(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.

" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.

" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.

" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.

" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.

The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.

If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.

" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "

(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.

" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "

Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.

" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.

They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.

" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.

" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.

He knew it would work out in the end.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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foundress0fnothing · 1 year

Text

When It Rains—Part 3

This is the final update for When It Rains as part of the ACOTAR Writing Circle. You can find part 1 by @headcanonheadcase here and part 2 by @sunshinebingo here.

Thanks to @azrielshadowssing for organizing this incredible event!

Sorry for the late evening update—I was without wifi in rural Kentucky this weekend 🫠

Please note the rating change--this gets smutty!

Read on AO3!

Gwyn was not too proud to admit that she had fantasized about kissing Azriel for almost as long as she had known him.

In her mind, their first kiss had gone a lot of different ways: after a heartfelt profession of love in the pouring rain, as a secret liaison out of sight in the kitchen during one of their friend group game nights, and—after going on a Spider-Man movie binge with Nesta and Emerie—with Azriel hanging upside down somehow. Which, in Gwyn’s opinion, would make him more like a bat than a spider, but that was neither here nor there. Probably.

And yet despite all her fantasies, she had not imagined that their first kiss would be in the middle of the night on their annual camping trip, with both of them half-naked and packed into a sleeping bag together. At least there was rain, she supposed.

But as she savored the feeling of his lips on hers, tentative and tender—and as Azriel kissed her back—Gwyn knew that she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But she wanted to see his face, wanted to hear him say her name, wanted to confirm that he too felt the magic of this kiss. So she broke away, pulling back to better see him.

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, as if he were trying to hold on to the moment before it slipped away. Lips slightly parted, he let his eyes drink her in, wandering lower and lower until they stalled where his hoodie hit her upper thigh. She could feel the heat of his gaze searing her skin and wondered for a panicked moment if he could tell she was bare underneath the black fabric. His eyes snapped back up to hers, the air between them suddenly electric, and Gwyn was sure he knew. But he only made a low sound in his throat and said, “Fuck, I love you in my clothes,” before cupping her face, his hand stretching from her temple to her chin, and drawing her in for another kiss.

While the first kiss had been curious and sweet, this was something much different—hungry and feverish and insisting—and Gwyn found herself wondering, hoping even, that perhaps Azriel had been wanting this as long as she had.

Breathing raggedly, this time Azriel was the one to pull back, although he kept his hand on her face, chuckling softly under his breath. Gwyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Something funny, Azriel?”

“No, I’m—I’m not laughing at you. Or us. Or this. It’s just that—“ he smiled, the left corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “I think I’ll need a new ‘never have I ever.’”

Gwyn rolled her eyes at that, although she too started smiling. “I don’t think we need to keep playing anymore.”

“No, I think we do,” Azriel said, moving his hand lower so he could capture her chin and better tilt her face up to his. “Everything I say seems to get turned on its head with you. And I’d like that to keep happening.” He kissed her, light and teasing.

“You sound a little too sure of yourself there, Azriel.”

“Well, Berdara, you haven’t proven me wrong yet.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Never have I ever met a more infuriating person than you.”

Azriel hummed and raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Gwyn said primly, although she couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face.

She marveled then that she might get to have this—might get to have Azriel as both her friend and her partner, someone to laugh with and kiss and tease and love, all in one. It seemed almost too good to be real.

And Gwyn knew—she knew—that it was, and that he was feeling this as strongly as she, but she wanted to hear him say it anyway. “This isn’t just a game to you, Azriel, right? Not just trying to beat me at never-have-I-ever?”

His mouth settled into a serious line, although Gwyn could still catch hints of mirth from their banter lighting his eyes. “Does it feel like a game, Gwyneth?”

She smiled. “No?”

“No,” Azriel confirmed. “Not a game. Not with you.”

There was a beat of silence, neither of them quite sure what came next.

Gwyn decided to break the stalemate. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Az.”

She was expecting him to answer in kind, to tell her that he had also been pining after her since they met three years ago, to use their mutual vulnerability to steal another kiss, to let his hands start to wander while he kissed her, to—but Azriel interrupted her fantasies of a grand romantic moment, saying instead, “Mmmm no, I don’t think that’s true.”

Gwyn blinked at him. “You don’t think it’s true…that I’ve liked you for a long time?”

“I don’t. And do you want to know why, Gwyn?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s because you said you loved me.” He quoted her: “Never have I ever kissed someone whom I have loved for years.” Azriel smiled at her almost smugly, eyes challenging.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

Gwyn blinked at him, not trusting herself to say anything yet. Did she love him? Yes. How could she not? Azriel was unfairly hot, and she had eyes after all. He was also the person who always made her laugh. And that was perhaps even more important.

But was she ready to tell him that—that she loved him—today? Right after their first kiss, like this? Fuck no.

Hoping that her hesitation hadn’t been too noticeable, Gwyn forced a laugh and said, “Well…uh…I…I must have gotten confused about the never have I ever rules,” she babbled. “Can never remember if you say something that’s true or not, you know—the wording is confusing, and—”

But Azriel didn’t buy it. “I thought we weren’t playing games, Berdara.”

She blanched. “I’m not playing games. I just—” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I just didn’t want to tell you so soon. Or like this.”

“But you do? Love me?”

Gwyn nodded and whispered, “I do.”

He smiled widely at that, the expression more open and joyful than anything Gwyn had seen on his face before. “So how would you have told me? If it were up to you?”

“Do you think I’m that insane? Trying to plan out everything?” Gwyn retorted, choosing to ignore the romantic plans for their evening she had been making a few moments earlier.

Azriel knew her too well. “Don’t you?”

At that, Gwyn decided the only acceptable response was no response at all, and she jokingly turned her head away with all the dignity she could muster.

But Azriel didn't let the silence linger long, only laughing slightly at her stubbornness before admitting, “I’ve planned it, Gwyn. How I would tell you that I loved you.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned back to face him. “You—what?”

“I’ve been planning how I’d tell you that I love you since I first saw you in our campsite three years ago.”

“Your campsite?” The groups had never resolved who was at fault for the site mix-up, and so arguments like this had long been a staple of their gatherings.

Azriel scowled. “Is that really the detail you want to focus on right now?”

Gwyn kissed him lightly on the nose. “No. Please continue. I want to hear more about how you’ve been chickening out of telling me that you loved me for three years,” she teased.

“Like you haven’t been doing the exact same thing, Berdara.”

“Is that really the detail you want to focus on right now?” Gwyn parroted his own words back at him, looking at him in challenge.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He paused, and then said, all in a rush, “I’ve thought about telling you that I love you every single day for the last three years. I kept trying to find ways that first camping trip—hell, I even stashed my tent in your car after I chickened out all weekend, just for another chance to see you again and get my head out of my ass. And then kept chickening out every day after that. And then everyone started coupling up and the moment never felt right, you know?—I didn’t want you to feel that I only wanted you because it ‘made sense’ for the group. And now it turns out that I didn’t even get to tell you that I love you first—you beat me to it, Gwyn. You were brave first.” His hand, which had settled somewhere around her shoulders, reached back up to cup her face.

Gwyn felt a little dizzy. “You…you mixed up the tents on purpose?”

“I’m sorry—that’s what you’re taking from this?” Azriel looked a little affronted.

“No, no—well, not totally.” Gwyn was quick to reassure him, feeling the fever pitch of his heartbeat underneath her hand that still rested on his chest. “I just—I can’t believe that was you.”

“I was a desperate man, Gwyn.”

She laughed and then narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Are you still? Did you plan all this?”

“Did I plan…all what?”

“I don’t know, tonight—the tent rip, the rain, the shirtlessness.” She reluctantly moved her hand away from him to gesture awkwardly at his body in the close confines of the sleeping bag.

At that, Azriel laughed. “You think I called in a favor with the weather gods to make tonight happen?”

She scowled. “Well, the shirtlessness, at least, has to be intentional.”

“Are you complaining, Gwyneth?” His voice, which had returned to its more normal register after the earlier passion of their kiss suddenly deepend, turned challenging, sensual.

Not to be outdone, Gwyn scooted back as far as she could and looked him up and down, making a big show of ogling the sculpted muscles and intricate tattoos that had been the object of far too many of her daydreams since she first laid eyes on them. God, how she had dreamed of running her hands across his chest, of kissing down it until she reached the line of his pants and the V of his hips and she could finally taste what was underneath.

Caught up in finally indulging herself, Gwyn didn’t notice that her maneuvering had shifted the hoodie up higher on her legs. But Azriel didn’t miss it.

“Well, Berdara,” he said, his voice a little strained, causing Gwyn to snap her eyes back up to his face. Had she offended him with her teasing? But his gaze was once again directed at her legs. “There’s another never have I ever you’ve ruined for me, Berdara.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” He echoed. “I can no longer claim that I’ve never shared a sleeping bag with someone who decided it would be fine if she just took off her underwear.”

Shit. Gwyn glanced down at herself, and, sure enough, the hoodie had risen just high enough that it was clear she wasn’t wearing anything except the hoodie. Not that he could see much from their angle, but still. Her heartbeat raced, and she felt a furious blush color her face. “I—” Fuck, what does one say in this situation? Gwyn certainly didn’t know. “I wasn’t trying to start anything, I promise! It’s just—they were wet.”

“Oh, were they?” The challenging purr was back in his voice.

“Yes.” She paused, then—“From the rain, you pervert.”

He clicked his tongue. “Disappointing.”

“Uh…” Gwyn was still mortified, still didn’t know what to say. Maybe it would be better if she got up now. It couldn’t still be storming, right? Sleeping in a waterlogged tent couldn’t be worse than this, certainly. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to reach her hands between them and yank the hoodie back down.

But Azriel stopped her hands before she could. “I think you misunderstood me. I’m disappointed they were only wet from the rain, not that they’re not there. That, I don’t mind at all.”

Gwyn felt her breath shudder at his words. Her heart was still racing, face still flushing, but for an entirely different reason than before, heat pooling deliciously in her stomach. She found her voice again: “Is that so, Azriel?” She tried to match his purr, to sound as flirty and coy, but she was a little too breathless to pull it off convincingly.

“Mmmm. It is.” He moved her hands to settle around his neck before allowing his own to graze the sides of her waist, moving in slow, tortuous circles. She arched into his touch, desperate for more of the sensation of his hands on her body.

Eyes on hers the whole time, Azriel asked, “If I touched you now, Gwyneth, would you still only be wet from the rain?”

Emboldened by the challenge in his gaze and the ache coursing through her body, Gwyn retorted, “Why don’t you find out, Azriel?”

And that was all the invitation he needed, eagerly slotting his mouth back onto hers with a ferocity that made the passion of their earlier kisses feel embarrassingly chaste. He shifted his weight to the side, moving one hand up to cup her breasts under the hoodie while the other skirted lower and lower until it teased her inner thighs.

Gwyn made a soft sound involuntarily in her throat, spreading her legs wider in invitation.

“‘Eager, Gwyn?” Azriel teased, relinquishing her mouth for just a moment.

“Yes.” She admitted shamelessly—“I’ve been waiting for this for three years, Azriel.”

At that, he grimaced. “Allow me to apologize for my earlier cowardice then.” He captured her mouth again before gently sliding a finger into her soft, wet heat.

“Oh.” Gwyn couldn’t contain her moan as Azriel almost lazily started pumping his finger in and out of her cunt, teasing her clit simultaneously as he did so. “Azriel…”

“That’s right, Gwyn,” he said, voice gruff. “So wet for me, baby. Just like that.”

He slipped another finger inside, hitting a spot that made her see stars for a moment. Her breathing grew heavy as her head swum and she wanted, she needed—

“So perfect, Gwyn, that’s right.” He interrupted her desperate train of thought.

She moaned at his praise and he continued, “Be my good girl, baby. Come on my fingers.”

And Gwyn shattered.

As she came down from the high of her orgasm, she found Azriel still gently teasing her clit, kissing her collarbone as he gazed at her with a self-satisfied grin.

“Do you accept my apology, Gwyn?” He asked between kisses.

No. She did not. Especially not with that look on his face. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “I’m not sure. Is that the best you have to offer?”

Azriel’s eyes flared at her challenge. Holding her gaze steadily, he removed his hand from between her legs and brought it up to her mouth, smearing her lips with the evidence of her pleasure. Gwyn almost moaned from the loss of contact and then from the dominance of his action.

“Does it taste like an insufficient apology, Gwyneth?”

God, she wanted more. Gwyn could have guessed that Azriel would be like this in bed—commanding and bossy and far too cocky—but she loved every bit of it, craved more of it.

“Tell me what you want, Gwyn,” he continued, tilting his head down to kiss her and taste the remnants of her orgasm. “Tell me how to make it up to you. Tell me how to show you that I love you.”

“Fuck, Azriel, I—” She groaned as he kept kissing her. “More…I need—more. I want you to fuck me. Now.”

The kisses he was peppering across her lips suddenly renewed in ferocity as he ground himself into her and Gwyn felt the evidence of his arousal, long and hard, through his sweatpants.

Breaking the kiss and sliding back to slip the pants off, Azriel paused in his motions to gaze at her. “Take the hoodie off, Gwyn.”

She did.

“Beautiful.” He breathed out, eyes hungrily tracing the contours of her breasts, of her stomach.

She blushed, then reached up to help him slide his sweatpants off. If he got to look, then so did she.

And oh.

Gwyn knew that Azriel would be big from what she had felt previously. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of his cock, long and hard and unfairly pretty. Almost unconsciously, she reached her hand out to grasp it, running her thumb through the precum beading at the tip before she started to pump him.

“Christ, Gwyn.” He moaned, breathing ragged. She would have kept going, but he stopped her hand. “Not tonight. Not if you want me to fuck you.”

And she did. “Condom?”

Azriel flung his arm over to his bag, fishing around in an inner pocket until he pulled out a square of shiny foil. “Came prepared,” he said, slightly sheepishly.

“Yes. Good. Perfect.” She panted, deciding that she would tease him about his preparedness in the morning.

Ripping open the package and rolling the condom down his cock, Azriel lined himself up with her entrance and began to slowly push into her. Gwyn’s eyes rolled back in her head—he was so big and she was so full and she needed—“More, Azriel. Fuck me.”

And he did, snapping his hips forward and fucking into her, hard and fast and perfect, and Gwyn thought this might be heaven. She moaned loudly, not caring if the other tents heard her, caught up in the bliss of this moment.

He swallowed her moan with a kiss. “Perfect, baby, yes. Be loud for me, Gwyn, that’s right. I want to hear you.”

“God, yes, Azriel,” Gwyn breathed out.

“Are you going to come on my cock, baby? Fuck, you take me so well.” She was close, her breathing heavy, hands feverish as she tried to snake them between their bodies so she could play with her clit.

“Let me, Gwyn.” Azriel reached between them and began to do it himself, driving her almost to insanity with the overwhelming sensation of him everywhere. “This is my apology after all. Let me do the work.”

She could feel her pleasure rapidly climbing, his hands and his words and his cock almost too much to take. “Azriel, I’m going to—”

And she came with a loud moan, Azriel roaring with his own climax a moment later. The two of them lay there, panting, spent, in each other's arms for a moment.

This time, Azriel was the first to speak. “I love you, Gwyn.”

“ I love you, Azriel.” As they cleaned up and Gwyn snuggled into his chest, she thought that this moment might have been worth the ripped tent and soaked sleeping bag after all.

Gwyn and Azriel did not stumble out of the tent until late the next morning. Hand in hand, blinking in the bright morning sun, they were immediately greeted with raucous applause and catcalls from the group. Even Elain, who normally pretended to be a little more reserved than the rest of the party, gave a shockingly loud wolf whistle.

Gwyn felt her face begin to heat as she realized that everyone—all eight of them—knew exactly what she and Azriel had gotten up to last night.

She almost ducked back into the tent, but Azriel kept a firm grip on her hand and dragged her over to the fire where coffee and breakfast were keeping warm, only relinquishing his grip to pour two cups of coffee after he was certain she wouldn’t flee.

Nesta and Emerie pounced on her immediately. “Fucking finally,” Nesta said. “Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this?”

Gwyn rolled her eyes. “I think that’s a little dramatic, Nesta.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Nope. Not even a little. And I expect you to tell me exactly how it was.” To emphasize her point, Nesta held her hands up facing each other and began to spread them wider. “Just tell me when to stop, Gwyn. I need a sense of what we’re working with.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything, Cassian interrupted from behind them. “What the actual fuck, Nesta? I rip the tent on purpose for you and spend all day feeling bad for little Gwynnie, and this is how you thank me?”

Gwyn whirled on him. “You ripped my tent on purpose?”

He at least had the dignity to look a little ashamed. “I’ll buy you a new one? Not that you need it now, apparently.”

She glared at him.

He smiled defensively. “I just thought you needed a push, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, you thought they needed a push?” Nesta interjected. “It was my idea.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“No, it was my idea,” Feyre said, suddenly joining in the argument. “I mentioned to you months ago that Rhys and I thought Az and Gwyn would make a cute couple.”

“Like hell you did, Feyre—” Nesta began.

As Gwyn fondly watched her friends—her family, really—devolve into an argument, she felt Azriel at her elbow. He handed her a cup of coffee, and she took it, looking up at him. He shrugged at her with a pointed look, much like he always had when the two of them had been the only single ones watching the antics of the couples in the group. She grinned back at him, taking his now free hand and settling it around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head.

It had taken three years for them to get here, and Gwyn wouldn’t change a single thing.

#gwynriel #acotarwritingcircle #acotar writing circle #gwyneth berdara #azriel acotar #acotar au #gwynriel smut #gwyn x azriel

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lolitystories · 6 months

Text

Don't let me down 11: Don't let me down.

Miguel was trying to lure Venom into a trap, when he stopped.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest.

“Well then!?”

Venom took advantage of his pain to grab him.

However, he was not injured.

This feeling... No...

Sara...

*Miguel ! I'm back ! Let me know when you're ready!*

Said Lyla, appearing near him.

"..."

Venom prepared his arm, to pierce his body.

Trust me...

He remembered his brother's words, he couldn't beat Venom and the Goblin at the same time. He had to trust them... Both of them.

“Lyla, now !”

The artificial intelligence smiled, then disappeared.

Miguel broke free from the creature's grip and clung to it, to prevent it from moving.

A few seconds later, Lyla's face appeared on every screen and billboard in town.

*Time to turn up the sound !*

A shrill sound echoed everywhere and caused terrible pain in Venom.

"STOP ! STOP ! STOP !"

He cried out in pain before falling.

"Venom what's going on !?"

Eric shouted, seeing the alien, which was starting to separate from him.

They were going to try to escape, but Spider-Man wasn't going to let him go so easily !

“Make more noise Lyla !”

The alarms of cars, shops and anything that could emit a sound were hacked by Lyla, all her noises ended up making the creature lose its momentum, which began to fall.

"Help !!!"

Eric shouted, now unprotected.

Miguel tied him up with a web and left to take care of what was left of Venom.

It was just a little puddle, he just had to...

"No ! Let him go !"

Eric had broken away and was clinging to Miguel's neck.

"Let go !"

"No ! I won't let you kill him ! Run away from him Venom !"

The black puddle shifted and began to flow under a manhole cover.

Miguel overpowered Eric, tying him up tightly this time, and set off in pursuit of the creature.

“Lyla, make sure the police find him.”

*Understood !*

"..."

*Miguel, Sara is seriously injured, do you want to go back to her ?*

"No..."

*...*

"I could drop everything to go help her, but... If I do that Venom will be free to target someone new. And then... She would hate me if I put her life before everyone else's... . I chose to be her hero."

Lyla smiled.

“We need to find Venom.”

*Scanning in progress.*

(An hour earlier...)

While Gabriel was finishing reprogramming Lyla, he received a call and widened his eyes, seeing the name.

"Hello ? Mrs. Parker ?"

“Gabriel…”

She seemed worried.

"...Do you know where my daughter is ? She isn't answering her phone, Lyla is missing, what's going on..."

"...It is complicated."

“She’s my daughter, please tell me what’s going on…”

"Miguel is going to bring her back, he went to save her from an alien called Venom and the Green Goblin..."

"..."

Sara's mother remained silent at the name.

"...I have to join them."

"You… What !?"

“I have to help them, if it’s the goblin, my husband’s research could help them.”

"His research ?"

He could hear her moving things in a hurry.

"My husband was looking for a way to cure the goblin or his future host, he came back to haunt us after Gwen-Stacy's death, returning again and again... I can create a cure and go help them, you have to tell me where they are."

"...Sara is at Alchemax, that's where they took her. I'll join you after I reconnect Lyla."

The goblin was about to stab Sara again, when she froze.

Sara smiled and held Dana to keep her from turning around, while her mother put a syringe in her neck.

All this time... She had been a distraction.

"..."

Dana staggered, before kneeling, holding her neck.

“Keep calm, you’ll feel better soon.”

Sara's mother told her, before rushing to her daughter, to take care of her wounds.

The rain had stopped.

The girls came out of the tower, they no longer had their costumes. Sara was clinging to her mother, she was going to have to go to the hospital. Meanwhile, Dana had her arms tied with wires, which would send a shock if she tried to escape, but it seemed like she had regained her senses.

She was angry...

“Why did you save me?”

"Spider-man doesn't kill people... Well, let's just say that I try to save others, when possible."

"You've always been like this... It's because of thoughts like this that you will lose everyone you love."

"..."

"The goblin fell asleep, but I am aware of everything I did... Even if I didn't want to, I did it. A part of me is bad and you can never change that , despite all your good feelings."

"I know..."

"So why !?"

"...Because you didn't choose this life. And despite everything you've done...I understand. I understand you Dana, even if I could never forgive you."

"..."

Dana's face was in shock, before she smiled and she laughed, she laughed without being able to stop.

A car quickly arrived in front of the building. It was Gabriel, who immediately got out of his vehicle.

“Sara !!!”

“Gabi…”

She sighed.

“I’ve already called for help.”

"She'll be fine, in the meantime... Could you watch Dana, if you don't mind?..."

The nurse was uncomfortable in her presence, surely... Because because of her, she had lost her husband...

Gabriel glanced at Sara to reassure her, then approached Dana.

Her hair was a mess, her eyelids were swollen, her scleritis was yellow and she still had veins sticking out.

He froze in his tracks, not having yet had the opportunity to see her half-transformed.

“Dana..”

He swallows.

“Hi Gabriel…”

She looked like she was about to cry.

"...I...I'm really...Sorry, oh Gabriel..."

He dared to advance again.

She cried and Gabriel tried to console her, holding her in his arms.

“Gabi…”

"Yes ?"

"...Say... Would you agree to untie me ? This bonds... They're too tight."

She says with sweet puppy eyes.

Oh... She hadn't given up yet.

Gabriel stepped back.

"..."

Dana's small smile disappeared and she sighed in defeat.

“I had to try...I don’t want to go to prison.”

"..."

"I promise to leave and never come back..."

She tries again, more sincerely this time.

"...I'm sorry Dana..."

"I understand..."

"...I'll come see you. Miguel and Sara, they're not going to abandon you, we'll find a way to treat you..."

"...You're always so naive Gabriel."

"..."

"I didn't love you... I used you to get what I wanted, I never understood why you forgave me..."

"It's not you I forgave. It's my brother. He loved you, that's why I didn't say anything, but I knew what he was going through, you were manipulating him, like you did with me. Because it's in your nature, you always want more..."

And because they wanted to be loved so much, they were incapable of stay away from her...

"Yes... I got everything I wanted... Well almost."

"What do you mean ?"

"You had something I couldn't have... A connection... I have to admit that it made me jealous. I had finally succeeded and yet... I wasn't happy."

"Because you don't want to be alone..."

"..."

“It’s not too late yet.”

She stared at him.

"Not after what I did..."

Police and ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance.

They got up.

Behind them, a black liquid slipped through the darkness, and approached a civilian who was passing by.

Dana turned to Sara.

“Well... This is where our paths are separated."

"...I won't let you down again."

"I know."

She smiles at her.

“If I can't kill him, I'm gonna kill you!”

Venom appeared out of nowhere, preparing blades to send at Sara, who couldn't move.

Her mother protected her and Gabriel rushed towards them.

The blades left, and before Gabriel arrived, they all saw Dana, step in front of the blades, she used them to free herself from her bonds, then dropped something.

Dana deflected the first attacks, but unfortunately... One of the blades hit her in the arm, and before she could react, the second... Had pierced her chest.

"..."

Sara screamed and tried to get up.

Her mother and Gabriel caught Dana, before she collapsed.

“Dana...DANA!!!”

"..."

"...I’m here..."

Said Gabriel, bringing her close to him.

“You are no longer alone…”

The ambulance and the police were arriving.

Venom was about to wreak havoc, Sara sent her webs at him, to hold him in place, but he grabbed her with his teeth and pulled her towards him.

But before she got too close, something rolled towards Venom, what Dana had dropped just before she died, a bomb that she had left for Miguel, seeing him coming in the distance, to kill this creature.

Flames began to surround it, freeing the host which Miguel put to safety, the alien tried to flee, but Sara had held on to it.

Venom disappeared... And that's the last thing she saw... Before passing out.

Sara was in a classroom, there were no students or teachers, the sun was setting... But she remembered this place.

It was her old college.

“Do you remember… how everything was simpler when we were younger ?”

She turned around, Dana was sitting at her table, looking at the little pencil drawings she had made.

“Are we…”

"No... Just me. I'm leaving soon, but I wanted to see you one last time."

"..."

"When I was little... I thought a hero would come and save me. I wondered why no one came to my rescue... Finally I realized, it was because I was the bad guy, no one comes to save the villain."

"..."

"I wanted to have a normal life... I wanted friends, I wanted to be loved. But... I was incapable of love. Even if I tried my best, I never felt anything."

"I'm sorry..."

"...Don't be. You saved me... I couldn't have lived like this, the goblin had won a long time ago. I no longer existed since he was here... Little by little, my mind was disappearing. I was doing harm, without knowing it."

"..."

"It's like I've been watching my life from behind a glass, or a television... Who knows... Maybe in my next life, we can really be friends this time."

Dana stood up and held out her hand, giving her a genuine smile.

Sara looked at her, then walked towards her, before taking her in her arms.

Dana's eyes widened, then she remained frozen for a few moments. Before hugging her back. Sara felt tears rolling down her shoulder.

"...Don't worry about me. Watch over them... Don't let them down."

"...Never."

Memories flashed by, memories that weren't real...

What could their life have been like, if Dana had been able to choose who she wanted to be...

How she would have been saved from her father, by Spider-Man.

How she would have been cured before becoming the goblin.

How she would have protected Sara from Eric's harassment.

How she would have married Gabriel.

But it was just a dream...

"Goodbye Sara... And thank you..."

She disappeared in her arms.

"..."

*Sara !*

"Lyla?..."

*It's me...I'm here, you're safe.*

Lyla's hologram was next to her at human size, looking at her with relief.

"..."

Sara tried to stand up, she could thank the little powers she had for saving her...

*Do it slowly, your mother is coming.*

"...Where are they ?"

*...It's Dana's funeral today.*

"..."

Sara stood up, even though Lyla told her she shouldn't move.

As she walked towards the door, her mother walked in, staring at her.

"...I..."

"I know. Let's go."

After the police arrived, the man Venom was controlling was released, he couldn't control his actions. He should nevertheless be monitored.

Eric, was condemned, he promised to take revenge on Spider-Man and one day recover his powers and the life that was stolen from him...

Since Dana no longer had her costume, no one would ever know that she was the Green Goblin. Miguel and Gabriel got rid of her costume and weapons.

When Sara arrived, they had already paid their respects, everyone was starting to leave.

Dana's sister was still there, talking with Gabriel. They stopped when they saw her coming.

Jennifer hugged her, happy to see her again after all her years.

Gabriel was still crying, as he hugged her too. They talked about their student years, the memories they had of Dana, the good ones... And the bad ones. As long as they remembered her, as long as they didn't forget her, who she really was...

Maybe that would make her happy...

Apparently Miguel had already left, during Dana's memorial speech he panicked... He said he didn't feel well and wanted to be alone.

Sara placed flowers on the grave, alstroemeria.

These flowers meant: friendship.

"..."

Miguel was sitting on the roof of his building. He had the wedding ring he had given to Dana in his hand.

There was the sound of a wire, then Sara appeared beside him, but he didn't look at her.

"...You shouldn't be up."

"I know, but you shouldn't be alone either."

"..."

“Is there anything I can do ?”

"...Can you stay ?"

"Of course."

She came to his side.

They looked at the city together and stayed like that for a long time without saying anything, there were only the sounds of Nueva York, which continued to live, while they seemed frozen in time...

"...Your mother found the notes that your grandmother made, to prevent you from having your powers."

"..."

"If we recreate this formula, it could take away my powers as well."

“And spider-man would disappear.”

"...No."

"So..."

"I will keep my promise, I will be your hero. I will take over the management of Alchemax with Gabriel, I will help the people of this city. But... The mask belongs to you."

"..."

"I'll always be here if you need me, but maybe... Spider-man doesn't have to be the only hero in this town anymore. Without you, I would never have gotten this far."

Just as she was about to answer him, something strange happened...

The wedding ring in Miguel's hand began to fly away, a portal beginning to open just behind them.

They activated their suits, preparing to face the new threat.

But... Of all the bad guys you expected to fight.

Three spider-mans were certainly not what they had in mind...

Back to masterlist - Previous chapter - Next chapter.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x oc #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel

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pbandjesse · 3 months

Text

I had a pretty good day despite still feeling down. I am for sure getting used to the noises of this neighborhood. The ebbs and flows. But that did not stop me from being absolutely startled awake this morning. I had woken up around 6 because my nose was really dry. I opened the window to get some air and went back to sleep.

I was startled awake by someone knocking on someone else's door outside. Scared me so bad because I couldn't tell if it was our door being knocked on. I am not sure what that sounds like yet. But it was not our door. And I would calm down.

I got cleaned up and dressed. I was still coughing and felt kind of terrible. But I thought eating might make me feel better.

I had more luck creating an omelette today. And it was good. I spent some time moving some things around. I hung up a little hook for James to put their wedding rings while they cook. And and I worked in our bedroom putting little hooks on the wall for my necklaces. I used a piece of blue tape and it came out super straight and I'm very proud of myself.

I have not don't any of my knitting this month so I sat for an hour and a half cutting the yarn and tying it all together. I was sitting in bed with sweetp and just working on my loom and listening to a spooky story podcast and watching the world out the window. I saw someone chase their puppy and slip in the rain. There are a lot of dogs in this neighborhood. I was coughing hard enough that someone walking past looked up and we may have made eye co tact but I'm not sure he could actually see me. But I did my knitting and it felt nice seeing it come together. Though this second type of yarn I got absolutely sucks and sheds like crazy. Will not buy again.

Once I was done knitting I decided to start tackling the basement. But I needed to go to Home Depot first.

I grabbed my stuff and drove the 15 minutes down the road. This was a very messy Home Depot. Carts and carts of stuff everywhere. But the staff I spoke to was kind. I had some trouble finding things. I wanted to look at shutters but apparently you can't buy them basically anywhere which is insane. But I was able to be directed to the wire racks and a staff member even gave me a cart. I decided to get two for now but I will probably get two more. They were a little more expensive then I was hoping but it's fine.

It was starting to rain as I headed home. I was able to get the same parking spot which was cool. Right outside the door. I brought the boxes in and felt a little dizzy. This has been the second most annoying thing. How dizzy I keep getting. How winded. But I try and power through. Sipping water helps.

Sweetp desperately wants to be in the basement. And I decided today to let him explore and maybe he'll get it out of his system. What he did get was absolutely covered in spider webs but he seemed so happy. Later he would become covered in red dust. Its funny hearing him walking on the duct work.

I would struggle to build the wire shelves. The first one just was not working but once I sat down and tried again I figured out what I had done wrong and then both of them came together easy. For now one shelf is all the camping and summer gear. And the other is all holiday stuff. It's not perfect but it was a start. I also got eveything down from the landing and used the cubby shelf to organize James bike stuff. And moved all the fans and heaters and suitcases to under the stairs. And then I moved one of the tables to the basement and it really just felt like it was coming together so well. I'm really pleased.

This took a few hours though. Around 230 my back hurt a lot and I needed a break. I warmed up my chipotle from yesterday and made it into a burrito. I was sitting in the kitchen eating and watching TikToks when I saw a video of someone watching the last song from Hamilton and I started sobbing?? Just absolutely broke down. I needed to go lay down.

So that is what I did. I got in bed with sweetp and fell asleep.

James's smartwatch, which was on the windowsill, picked up the music they were listening to when they came upstairs and scared me awake again. I was not feeling amazing but I was really happy to see them. They said whenever I was ready we could head to the apartment.

I needed a minute to shake off my sleepies. Drink a bunch of water. But then I was ready.

We drove over there and got right to work. I was really happy to see my fish Ari was doing great. His eye is all better. I also got to see Omelet. I got everyone some new water and some food. Ari even let me give him a little pet. I'm so glad he's doing better.

We brought three boxes with us so I just started picking up any odds and ends I could find and I think we did an excellent job. James finished taking things off the walls. And went to go do our laundry while I collected trash and swept. We would fill three boxes with stuff. And the. Took all the curtains down. And we used all the totesbags we brought to collect our books. Still more books to collect but we had no more bags.

We were there for a while. Once the clothes were done we loaded up the car. Mostly James did. I completely ran out of steam and needed to sit down. So I wanted in the car until James grabbed the last few things we could fit with the clean clothes. And we headed to get dinner.

When I was at Home Depot earlier I saw there was a diner across the street so we went there. Turns out it was on diner drive ins and dives. Neat. And it is like one of those amazing chrome diners. Those are always my favorite ones. The staff was really nice. And the food was good. We were sort of watching the super bowl on the TV. James spoke Spanish with the staff. It was a nice stop.

I was exhausted though and very happy to go home. James told me to go keep Sweetp in our room and they would bring everything inside. And once they did I moved the rugs we brought over to the rooms they will probably stay in. They are shockingly dirty though. They feel bad under my feet. I will have to see about getting a carpet cleaner soon. Because gross.

But it's so nice seeing the house slowly coming together. Like seeing the apartment so empty hurts my heart a little. It feels so bittersweet. But the house is already filled with so much love and it's just so great.

I would take a quick shower. And do my drawing of the day. And now I am in bed trying to not cough my brains out. I am really tired.

Tomorrow James is going to go for a long bike and I hope to do some more putting away. We might make some more runs from the apartment. I also just hope it's a good day.

Sleep well everyone. I love you all. Goodnight!

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daughter-of-inklings · 7 months

Text

Some of the lines from the Inktober prompts, because the full prompts are about… ~500 words per prompt, and that's a lot to transcribe—

Dream:

The way she smiled at him broke his heart— he’d never see this life again, or hold their child the same way, or exist in that moment of peace with his wife.

Spiders:

Far in the corner, guarded by an angry looking spider, was Rosiel’s stuffed owl. Their dad had made it for him out of one of Elanoriel’s old shirts, so that it smelled like her and gave the kit comfort until she came back.

Path:

“Am’me, am I cursed?” How many times had they two had this conversation before? In how many of her lives? “You’re not cursed, little star. Fate is… a bit more complicated than that.” "Fate has taken everything I’ve ever loved.”

Dodge:

“Ada, am I in trouble?” “Why would you be in trouble, starling?” “For fighting those kids yesterday…” her little head wings drooped around her face. “You’re not in trouble Morg’ana. Your mother and I are simply.. of the mind that if people are going to pick fights with you, for how you’re dressed or how you look, you should be able to defend yourself. And Estel.”

Moon:

Nicholas moved his ears back, catching all the little sounds playing through the manor, and outside of it. He wasn’t sure what had scared the little kit, but whatever it was— it’d have to contend with him and his fox self to get him.

Beast:

[…] but there was a coldness to their actions. A distance. Like they tolerated her there out of obligation, not because they wanted her near. Not unlike how they treated their princess. Cold, distant, always placed on a pedestal high above them; untouchable.

Fortune:

“G’ama, what’s it like outside?” The woman raised her eyebrow, looking up where she’d been braiding the little kit’s hair. Glancing towards the window beside them, nearly the size of the entire wall, she spoke again after a moment. “It appears to be sunny, currently. Though, with those clouds rolling in from the west, it might rain later tonight.” “No, g’ama. What’s the world like outside? Outside the walls? Outside this palace and this kingdom?”

Rise:

It wasn’t hard to mimic the soul. With materials even mildly resembling the originals, a replica was an easy fit for an experienced alchemist. The resulting creature needed to learn to emote—something that came almost naturally to its counterpart. The tests on that had proven… inconclusive. Necromancy helped. It provided a vessel for the pseudo-soul, which they’d named chimerus, to inhabit and stabilize.

#ink’s scribbles #my writing #writeblr #fantasy writeblr #fantasy writing #writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy novel #snippet #out of context lines #inktober #inktober prompts #inktober 2023 #inktober writing #yes i could sit here and tag all the stories these are from #but those are a Lot #some of the books don't even have names yet #so take these instead

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varokai · 1 year

Text

BOOP - Dec 7th

being the aftermath proceeding from the departure of 1/3x spider while those remaining explore how to get ahead as arms change hands.

No telling if Skelegun now either remained what they weren't or had become what they always meant to be. Staring stock-still in static silence suggested neither sympathy nor solutions. Introductions were in order.

"Sooo..." Dek broke the silence, "first time in the big city or are you..."

Claw, shovel, and face traced an abrupt arc into the [sunlight?].

"¡SUGARRRR!" Skelegun proudly proclaimed. Pointed skyward, they let the silence fall back upon them.

Boop looked to Dek. Dek to Boop. They had witnessed and were continuing to witness the same spectacle; some mysterious entity double-born in blind confidence. Here and now, better sweet and quixotic than armed and aimless.

"Is..." all that and more might even anchor Dek, "Is that what we should call you?"

An accusing gaze paralleled the demanding claw leveling itself at such a question.

"¡Countless grains of shooogharrr!" Skelegun (at least for the time being) continued. "The Queen must have all of them and i will give Her every one."

Something sounded of duty in this unprompted oath. The only glimpse of any compass point in a place where the sun hangs for days without rise or set for bearing. If the world did orbit but never did revolve, that day (for every day after) would be the same day. Dreams that drift through are these same, like Skelegun's, that fall like all of a rain at once and require the land to sort out the flood. What else could you do?

"Boop," Boop genuflected. Cordial and round.

You might pretend to have missed such a graceful greeting for hope of an encore. The overture of chance meetings composes the character of the upcoming symphony. A name is as good as a bell. This was lost on Skelegun.

"Pretty sure you don't have to bow when they admit they're not royalty," Dek was wary of unanchored determinism. "Also, is his brain 'ants'?"

Here was a being that defined itself remotely; away in an alien place and having shed the confines of its original form, this steam-shovel's first conscious thought happened to be: I'm going to be late for work.

"¡The Queen turns her sheeyoogurr into life itself!" Skelegun continued, sandwiching the syllables and tasting that word with each utterance. "The ALL and i are forever in awe of her power and hunger..." (and why shouldn't they be?)

Obvious and popular sentiments, apparently. There's an eventual universe for any reality even if you only imagine yourself on the bottom. Dek could accept THAT fact, but not the scale of Skelegun's imaginary masses.

"Look, if you're just going to be crazy and flail around," Dek mimicked the earlier outburst, "at least be useful and help clean up this mess." With that, gesturing to the piled disarray surrounding them

The world they shared needed sorting and explanation, and even a bad dream should be put to good purpose. Boop collected a few scattered fragments as Skelegun unceremoniously plowed his way to the seventh sealed flap.

"¡Fools!" Skelegun snobbishly snorted. "The 'pile' is insignificant compared to the vast labyrinths of he Queen's Qingdom."

Any rubbish collected in his path was a matter of coincidence.

Boop turned to Dek serenely, [hands?] offering a simple arrangement of figures: atop a smooth grey canvas, delicately affixed, was a round green totem aside a dull red glass.

"Oh," noticed Dek. "You took that Ant-thingy's extra hands and made a... thing."

The dexterity of new hands.

"Boop?" Boop asked shyly. Very succinct.

The pride of first endeavors being of the sweetest sips to drink. Dek took a moment to unfold the tone. Not a punctuation to expect, given the circumstances, but always worthy of acknowledgement.

"Sure, Boop," Dek assured. "'Green means it's NOT evil.' I can't find the flaw in your logic."

Behind them, Skelegun blankly regarded the 7th flap, unconcerned with matters of expression.

"Endless tunnels," Skelegun hummed to himself. "In the darkness, there you find the ALL's love."

To Dek's great horror Skelegun punctured the clumsy mural, peeling away the rough perforation.

"GAAAHHH! What the?!?!" Dek raised his arms in alarm. "Stop... doing... ANT things!!!"

Boop was startled. The new hands had little more than a tenuous grip on that tiny abstraction. A simple spell had been broken and Boop was left to pick up the piece(s), a tragedy even in the singular.

Skelegun pompously brandished his proud garbage.

"On these cut leaves," declared Skelegun, "the Queen's ALLfungus™ will thrive copiously!"

It was as good an explanation as anyone was going to receive, but at least it suggested some ownership for the action.

"And you couldn't simply use the 'leaves' we already have without opening another stupid chaos door or whatever?" Dek was furious. There is no need to hurry chaos when the organic brand will suffice. "What new madness did you just unleash?!"

The resulting argument went nowhere. Ants and ant-like things are nearly impossible to debate in any meaningful way, though it's important to make an attempt.

"boop..." Boop sighed. No one heard.

The consonance so soft that the entire sentiment melted and refroze into the waiting [snow?] beneath the broken art. A universe could show a bit more humility in the face of such an innocent expression, don't you think?

The futility of reasoning with one one-track-minded ant-machine on tank treads was not lost on Dek. As Boop gently cradled the broken canvas, the intimate gravity of the loss caught Dek by surprise.

"Oh...Boop..." Dek was beginning to feel helpless. The words felt so weak when exposed to the air. "I'm so sorry if I accidentally startled..."

Accidents have a weight of their own and apologies are better spoken from between warm, resolute hands. Some are best interrupted. This one was not.

"¡My Queen!" Skelegun heralded, trash in hand, "Your faithful servant has fulfilled your commands! I make all haste!"

With that, he blustered through the hanging sentiment like plate glass, challenging the very meaning of the piece and reducing poor Boop to trilling tears and a brief but hauntingly plaintive wail.

"Boohoohoooop..." Boop suffered.

The hardest of hearts could not have suffered the indescribable agony of that sound, though the foolest of fools might only sniff at the air. Skelegun paused briefly on his way to absolutely nowhere different than wherever any of them had.

"Hmmm..." Skelegun noticed, lost deep in [thought?]. "This variety of leaf seems incompatible with my pheromones. I'll need to strategize." And as far as Skelegun was concerned, it really did and he really would.

Dek sat with Boop awhile. It takes as long as it needs to take to mourn the loss of something pure. But a first draft is not a loss. In time, neither is a second, third, fourth, or even a major seventh. Those pieces that break off can be smithed, shaped, and set as the crowning jewels of any a life's ceremony (even smithed, shaped, and set once more). The word "Try" melts way inside a personal foundry, poured as it is into the hearty mold of "Next."

Wary of errant [ski-poles?], Dek slid the seventh sack stubbornly from its slit as Boop's soft eyes lifted from the green token held gently.

"Here," Dek confidently presented, "these things looks innocuous enough. That stupid AntBot took the instructions, but I bet YOU can think of something wonderful!"

Boop retraced the finer details of what was missed from what was lost.

"Boop?" Boop asked.

That skeptical harmony bent smoothly into hopeful augment.

"Sure, Boop," Dek reassured. "Use all of the leftover pieces you want."

With that, the ground was awash with the junk of their universe, but not for long. Boop's [hands?] followed a magnetism that guided each piece into onto and under the other. Every fragment found its way as some grander new form took shape, justifying by its mere inclusion the importance of its existence.

Satisfied with the balance, Boop stepped back from the [thing].

"Well, I'm not really sure what I expected to see or even what I'm currently looking at..." Dek observed, "...but you DID use most of the pieces. Even worked those robot pants in there."

The robot pants really pulled it together, honestly. Told a story.

Boop was nervous. Those were practical answers, but superficial at best.

"...boop?" Boop wondered.

It was such a pure and endearing tone, lilting as it did, turning as Boop did, and waiting to hear what Dek saw.

"Yes, Boop. It's very good," Dek smiled.

For at least this heartbeat, a little more of a world they didn't know made a little more sense

"Boop."

and that was more than enough.

"Please don't ever change, Boop..." Dek was transfixed as Boop placed the finishing touch on a masterpiece.

No one noticed the generally confused, morally-questionable, claw-machine, steam-shovel, AntBot (or whatever) make his way back to the wall of insanity (or whatever) or the intricate ballet of his contortion into the closest open hole.

"¡Scandal! Insult!" sneered Skelegun. "It is not 'i' who have failed my Queen. It is YOUR pathetic and sheeeoooguhher-less world that has thwarted my sacred duties."

The waking world was an disappointment to dreamers like these, especially when the dream belonged to someone else. This seemed an important thing for Skelegun, the skeleton born with a gun who had become a steam-shovel, to communicate to a roomful of strangers who only tried to help.

"With my NEW tunnel," he trumpeted, "VICTORY FOR QUEEN AND THE ALL IS ASSURED! farewell fools."

Skelegun dragged the dented door clumsily back into the waiting maw of his wake.

"Boop," Boop asserted, unconcerned whether or not ayone heard.

"Yeah," Dek agreed, "that hole goes nowhere and I'm not going to miss him either."

Through the cracks in the door, neither could make out the awkward retreating form. Odd for such a small space.

———————-

DEC 8th:

In which the joys of expression are (and always should be) celebrated with a new hat!

or just start over?

0 notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

In between the city walls of dying dreams

This if for @buckyownsmylife 2k challenge. I chose the character Andy Barber and the AU ex-con.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); somnophilia, drugging, breeding, oral, fingering.

This is dark! (ex-con) Andy Barber x shy!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: One night, you’re saved by the last person you expect, but you don’t know that he’s only saving you for himself.

Note: So I woke up at like 4am and couldn’t sleep. My biggest mistake during my insomniac fits are scrolling tumblr and then I see a writing challenge and decide, hey I hate myself enough to write 6k+ words for a tatted up Andy Barber so here we are.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The streets were shiny and slick as the rain pattered across the pavement and the eaves trickled loudly. The door of the convenience store chimed as you stepped out into the drizzle with a plastic bag hanging from your elbow. It was late and you were eager to be home after a ten-hour shift, your return delayed by your visit to the shop.

A man stood beneath the beaming ‘lotto’ sign and you kept your head low as you passed him. He kept his hood up but you recognized the grey sweater. You had waited behind him as he paid before you and offered only grumbles to the cashier. You weren’t too talkative yourself although the clerk recognized you from frequent visits. You only lived a block away and it was one of the only places open after your evening shifts.

Your boots splashed through shallow puddles as you passed by the alleyway you took in the daytime, keeping to the halo of the streetlights along the grimy stretch. You had no illusions about the neighbourhood and it often reminded you of its vices. If you kept quiet and faded into the background, it couldn’t eat you up. Living downtown meant that you had to learn to ignore the alarm bells in your head and just keep going. Be vigilant but don’t be bold.

As you cleared the mouth of the alley, you heard footsteps emerge behind you. You picked up your pace and gripped the strap of your purse slung across your torso. You pulled out your phone and angled it to see the shadow following you.

There was a shawarma shop on the next corner. You could hide out there until the creep got tired and left. It was your usual trick and the owner, Mo, was especially skilled at scaring away the rabble.

The man got closer and you gulped. You would have to start running if he got any closer. You thought of swinging at him with your plastic bag, the bottle of vitamin water would give him a good knock. You walked faster and squeezed your phone as you brought up the dial pad. There was no one you could call who would get there fast enough.

You tripped and felt the hand on your arm. You were spun back against the wall and you threw your bag around to hit your accoster. It bounced to the ground as it was batted away and the plastic bag tore in half. The bottle of vitamin water rolled over the curb and your can of soup was dented on impact. The candy bar was tangled in the white plastic and you were trapped against the brick.

“Wallet.” The man’s knife slid from the handle with a threatening whisper. “Phone!”

He wrestled your cell from your grasp as the blade kept you from resisting. He cut the strap of your purse and yanked it free from your body. Shit. That can of soup would likely be your only meal for the rest of the week… if he didn’t stab you anyway.

You readied yourself for the worst but it never came. You were suddenly released as the man was shoved away from you and the blade clattered to the ground. The stranger in the grey hood kicked his ass so he sprawled across the pavement and bent to grab the blade. He retracted it and booted the mugger a second time.

“Stay down.” He warned as he knelt to pick up the can of chicken and rice and the dark chocolate. He fished the vitamin water from the gutter but the seal had broke and it was mostly gone.

The mugger groaned and pushed himself to his hands and knees. The other man stood and pushed down on his back with his thick sole until the attacker was on his stomach.

“I’m gonna crush your ribs if you don’t get outta here. Now.” He jabbed the mugger’s side sharply. “Go!”

The man scrambled up to his feet and wheezed. He stumbled away and the other watched him until he disappeared. Finally, he turned to you and held out your goods. You took them shakily and shook your head at the vitamin water. He bent to grab your purse and your phone and held them out in turn.

“You okay?” He asked.

You nodded and took them shyly. You never said much to anyone but even if you tried, you expected your voice wouldn’t rise. You huffed at the broken strap of your bag and the scratch across the back of your phone. The screen protector was a spider web of cracks and you were thankful it wasn’t entirely fucked.

You clung to everything and warily sidestepped the man. You dropped the wet bottle in the stinking bin behind him and turned back. You looked at him and froze. He was taller and broader than the man who attacked you. He still held the knife and could do worse.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” He slid the knife into his pocket. “He didn’t cut you?”

You shook your head again. Even as his face was shrouded in shadows, you couldn’t look directly at the man. You never really looked anyone in the face, you often spoke to their shoes or the void above their heads.

“You live far?” He asked and again he received a negative gesture. “You want me to walk you? Or I can watch?”

Your eyes widened at the spatter of rain against the concrete.

“Miss,” he said with exasperation.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You whispered as if convincing yourself too.

You slipped past him quickly and he stepped back with a surprised stammer. Your soles slapped the pavement as you rushed away from him. You couldn’t be sure he wasn’t as bad as the other man. He might follow you home and try to get even further.

But he didn’t pursue you. You didn’t hear his footfalls behind you, only the steady fall of rain.

“Good night,” you heard quietly as you got to the corner.

You didn’t look back and kept on around the bend. You sprinted all the way to your building at the end of the side street and fumbled for your keys at the door. You took a breath when you were inside at last. You were lucky but not many downtown were. That wouldn’t happen again.

🌆

After your close call, you didn’t return to the convenience store for several days and you only did so in the daylight. You had a rare day off and the spree of rain finally ceased. The sun beat down on the buildings and reflected hotly off the sidewalks. There wasn’t much to do, or much you could afford to do, so you didn’t do much in your free time.

You had to get out of your apartment, had to enjoy the nice day before you were once more trapped behind a desk. You walked up to the store and grabbed an ice cream bar from the freezer. You paid in change and claimed your treat with a tight-lipped smile.

As you approached the door, it swung outward and you retreated before you could collide with the other body. You muttered a sorry and stood aside as you waited for your path to clear.

“Hey,” the deep voice was familiar and sent a chill through you. “It’s you.”

You looked up at the man as the ice cream added to the cold flow through your veins. The same grey hoodie and broad shoulders. The man’s deep blue eyes shone beneath his tidy undercut and a thick beard trimmed his chiseled jaw. He was less sinister than the shadow you met days before.

Your eyes quickly flitted away as you remembered yourself and you looked at the door. You nodded as you cleared your throat. Speak, goddamnit.

“Thanks…again,” you croaked weakly. “S-sorry, I’m in your way.”

You tried to step around him but he was still firmly planted in front of the only exit.

“Wait,” he said gently, “Hey, I… don’t wanna seem weird but I was worried about you.”

“You don’t know me,” you said quietly to his shoes.

“Yeah, but that’s a scary thing to deal with.” His voice was firm but comforting, almost warm. Your eyes clung to the tattoo between his thumb and index finger.

“But…” you swallowed, your ice cream would start to melt soon. “You helped me. I’m okay now.”

“Well, good,” he said and finally moved. “I’m happy I could help.”

“Thanks.” You reached for the door but he beat you to it. He pushed it open and held it for you, forcing you to brush against him as you left.

“Be safe.” He called after you as the door chimed and you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, barely missing another pedestrian.

You crossed the street and stepped over the low hedges between the café and the pawn shop. The small park was oddly peaceful amid the chaos of the city and you didn’t mind sitting under the shade of the fragrant leaves. You sat at an empty picnic table and unwrapped the chocolate dipped bar.

You listened to the birds and watched the squirrels as you ate. You pulled out your phone but didn’t have enough data left to do much. You put it down as you licked clean the little wooden stick and shoved it back into the wrapper.

You flinched as a shadow blotted out the sun and you blinked up at the figure as it stopped before you.

“You again.” He smiled and your eyes fell back to the grass around his boots.

You crumpled the empty wrapper nervously and let out a nervous, “heh, yeah.”

“I’m not… following you.” He said and chuckled. “I know we kinda keep running into each other but I swear, I’m not some creep.”

You nodded and watched his fingers straighten. The ink on his knuckles made you nervous.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You looked beside you as he pointed to the bench and you shrugged. “Could I stop you?” You uttered.

He turned and sat beside you. He took a breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes. He opened it and offered you one. You shook your head and he closed the carton, tucking it away without taking one himself.

“I won’t smoke around ya then,” he said. “I’m Andy.”

He held out his hand and you eyed it. Your lashes fluttered nervously and you squeezed the garbage. He waited patiently. You felt the heat on your neck and you reached to shake his hand. He gripped yours firmly and his strength made your wits flurry. You gave him your name and looked down at your lap as he let go of you.

“I don’t blame you not wanting to talk to strangers. Especially around here.”

You stayed quiet and twisted the wrapper around the stick. Your leg jiggled and he ran his nails over his jeans.

“Maybe you’re just shy and that’s okay too. I just thought, well, there’s a lot of shady characters around here and it’s good to have someone lookin’ out for ya.” He scratched his beard and leaned back against the table. “I just wanted to say that if you see me around and you need someone to scare off the other hounds, I’m more than happy to give them a good bite.”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and stilled your leg. You nodded.

“Alright,” he stood and the whole table shifted with his weight, “Now, I’ve said my peace. You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” you wrung your hands around the bending popsicle stick entwined with the wrapped.

“Oh, and… I think I grabbed the right one.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and you noticed the awkward shape jammed into the pocket. He revealed the bottle and placed it on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

You stared at the label. It was the right flavour. You looked up and watched him head out along the path. He unzipped his sweater as he went on and pushed his hands into the pockets. You pinched your lip with your teeth and took the bottle of water. Maybe there were nice people in the city or maybe you were just that pathetic.

🌆

Back at your building, you were relieved to be out of the sun and the stifling humidity. It would be a rough summer and your box fan would do little to stave off the heat.

After your run-in with your hero, you decided to take a walk and finished the entire bottle in your casual stroll around the paths and the little creek on the other side of the park. It was later than you thought when you got back and fought with the jammed key slot.

You opened up the inner door of the lobby at last and grunted with frustration. Not only did the slot threaten to bend your key but the door was heavier than you. You climbed the first short flight of stairs and grabbed the old banister to continue your trip up the winding case.

You stopped as the platform above creaked and as another resident came down with a basket of clothes in hand. You stayed at the bottom to let them pass but as they descended, they stopped a step above you. Your name had your head up and your eyes, for the second time that day, met two stunning blue irises.

“I didn’t know you lived in this building,” Andy said as he cradled his laundry and turned to face you. “Small world.”

“I didn’t--” your words dwindled and you focused on the lip of the basket instead of his face. You didn’t talk to your neighbours, not since the old man had threatened to choke you in the lobby.

“I just moved in.” He said. “My first place since… well, the first place I’ve had to myself.”

“Oh,” you breathed and picked at your frilly shirt.

“Well, let me just get out of your way,” he angled away from the stairs. “I’ll probably see you around. Don’t hesitate to say hi.”

You nodded and gripped the railing as you continued up the stairs. As you reached the platform, you glanced back and he was still watching you. He smiled and finally turned away, heading towards the laundry room as he began to whistle. You climbed the next flight and took a breath.

Coincidences happened but you just couldn’t handle so many at once. Andy had been nothing but nice, he saved you from being robbed and he even replaced what he didn’t owe you. You just couldn’t believe it.

People could be good, they could be kind, just not in the city.

🌆

Your run-ins with Andy continued. You passed him in the hall several times before you realised he lived on the same floor. Your suspicions were confirmed as you grabbed your take-out and saw him unlocking the door only a couple away from your own. You even managed to drop your fliers on his boots when you were grabbing your mails.

Each time, he was friendly and each time, you barely said a word. He was a curious man. His tattoos labelled him as dangerous but his demeanour was welcoming and compassionate. He was entirely off putting and you lived in the city long enough to be wary. And you were shy enough to be evasive.

You were tired after another late shift. The bus ride had you yawning by the time you reached your stop and your short walk to the building was less than enjoyable as the usual weirdos were out with the full moon. You shoved your key into the slot and swore under your breath as it refused to turn.

Finally, it pivoted and you yanked on the handle as the door behind you swished open and closed. A hand grabbed the side of the door and helped pull it back all the way. You peeked over your shoulder as Andy held it and you thanked him with a squeak before heading through.

He followed you a few steps back as you started up the stairs.

“You work late a lot.” He said from behind you.

“Yeah…” you said as you turned up the next flight.

“You work far?”

“Not very,” you replied as you turned again.

“Yeah, I used to be on nights and that was hell.” He humoured as you pressed on.

Your toe caught on the lip of the top step and you went hurtling forward. You tried to catch yourself and cried out as you landed on your wrist and felt an agonizing twinge. You hissed and turned over, holding your arm as it throbbed.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked as he stooped to look you over.

Your purse had landed in the corner of the platform and your flat had slipped off in your descent. Embarrassed, you lowered your arm and nodded. “I’m fine. Just… hopeless.”

“Here,” he took your shoe from the step and slid it onto your foot. “Hey, it happens. I almost did the same thing the other day.”

He paused and you felt him staring. You looked him in the face nervously but his eyes weren’t on yours. You felt a tickle as he pulled your skirt back to your knee. You hadn’t realised how far up it had flown.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as you rested it on your leg.

“No, it’s fine, I--” You waved him away with your good arm and but he took your other gently and bent to look closer.

He tutted as he touched the flesh and you winced.

“It’s swelling,” he felt firmly along your wrist, “I don’t feel a break but a sprain is a serious thing.”

“How do you--” you stopped yourself. “I’ll be okay.”

“You need to wrap it.” He let go of your arm and stood.

He grabbed your other elbow and helped you to your feet. He stepped up onto the platform and scooped up your purse.

“You have something to wrap it? You’ll need the proper support.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is. You landed on it with all your weight. I’m surprised you didn’t break something.” He insisted. “I have something, I’ll wrap it for you.”

“Really, I can…” you voice fizzled as you tried to steady yourself. “I can do it myself.”

“But will you?” He kept his hand on your arm and guided you up the last steps to your floor. “Please, for my own peace of mind, let me help.”

You stared at the stained carpet as you stopped beside him. “Why?”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” He asked.

“I’m not-- I…” You frowned. “I just don’t know you. I-I-I’m just quiet.”

“I’ve tried to know you so why don’t you let me?”

You drew away from him and watched his hand drop. You stared at the tattoos and he curled his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, well, I guess I can start by being honest.” He sighed, “Yes, I’ve been to prison. I’ve been out for a year now, I’m finally off parole, I have a job, and I’m working to live a clean life. Is that it? You think I’m some goon?”

“No, I…” you looked at the floor again. “I don’t care about that. I’m just… I don’t know what to say to people so I don’t say very much.” You swayed nervously on your feet. “And no one ever really tried to hear me anyway.”

“Well, I can do the talking or we can both just say nothing, but please, you’re wrist, an untreated sprain can do a lot more damage.”

You tilted your head back and forth and another stab of pain went through your wrist. You nodded and looked to the wall. “O-Okay.”

“Alright,” he exhaled and nudged you lightly as he urged you down the hall.

He stopped at his door and you waited for him to unlock it. You stared inside as he pushed it open. You didn’t really know him and what you did know wasn’t reassuring. He was a convict and you were about to be completely alone with him.

“Or I can grab the bandage and meet you at yours?” He offered.

“No, no, I’m… tired. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said.

You entered and he followed. He put your purse on the small square table beside the shoe rack and you stepped out of your flats. He bent to untie his boots and left them beside your shoes. He urged you on and you looked around at the surprisingly cozy apartment. It was tidier than yours and smelled like fresh linen.

“I’ll be right back,” he gestured you to the living room and went down the short hall to closet at the very end.

You ventured past the couch as you looked around. There was a degree hung on the wall and you went closer to read it. You heard him searching the closet as you raised your brows at the framed certificate.

“Got it,” he entered and you turned away. “Ah, yeah, they disbarred me when I was charged but ah, well, it’s something to work towards. The old me.”

You bit your cheek as you stepped away from the wall and he beckoned you to him. He had you sit on the couch with your arm up as he pulled a chair close. He unwounded the beige bandage and placed the end against your wrist. He began to wind it around your arm and hooked it between your thumb and index. You watched him work and it calmed you. He pinned the loose end and placed your hand atop the cushioned arm of the couch.

“There.” He said as he sat back. “How’s it feel now?”

“A little better,” you pulled your hand into your lap. “Thank you.”

You stood awkwardly and played with the pleat of your skirt. “I should probably go.”

“If you want to or… I have some wine. It might help with the pain.”

“Oh?” You weren’t much of a drinker but you didn’t want to be rude.

“It was a gift from my parole officer since I can legally drink now. He said it better last me the next year but I haven’t even opened it. Don’t really have a reason to but… so you want a glass or should we say good night?”

You scrunched your lips and thought. You felt as if you owed him; for the night he chased away the mugger and then the park and now this.

“Uh, sure, but just a little. I don’t drink much.”

“No problem,” he stood and you sat back down.

He went to the kitchen and you listened to the clink of dishes and click of the cabinets. You looked down at your wrist and moved your fingers. Your wrist hurt a lot but the bandage alleviated some of it.

“I realised I don’t have any wine glasses,” he said as he approached, “So, I hope you don’t mind wine in a mug.”

He handed you a cup and sat down with his own. Yours had flowers around the rim and his read ‘Best Dad Ever.’

“Got ‘em from the Good Will,” he chuckled, “I’ve been meaning to replace them but you know, work.”

“Yeah,” you raised the cup and tasted the bitter red. You wrinkled your nose and he gave a low snort.

“Yeah, I never really liked cabernet but it was a gift,” he said and took a drink himself. “So what kinda work do you do?”

“I’m just a temp.” You tried another mouthful and nearly choked.

“Like office work?”

“Yeah, a floating secretary. Nothing special.”

“Mmm, yeah, I got a job down at the factory. Another favour from my parole officer but it’s not bad work.”

Your lips slanted as you thought. You didn’t say much but your face was good at filling the silence.

“What? Go on, ask it.” He leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he took another gulp.

You mirrored him and swallowed the sour wine. You wiped your lips with your sleeve and crossed your legs. “You said you were a lawyer before, isn’t it kinda… I dunno.”

“It’s different but it’s better than prison.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.”

You looked down as silence laced the air and you didn’t know what else to do but finish the wine. You could leave then. You drained the cup and set it on the round table next to the arm of the couch. You blinked as you felt the buzz of the alcohol already.

“It might just be me, but that was strong,” you said.

“No, it is,” he put his mug down too, “like thirteen percent or something. I think maybe he was trying to sabotage me.”

You tried to laugh but it came out an awkward sniffle. You tapped your foot as you tried to think of what to do or say.

“Well, thank you but I think I should--” You stood so fast you got dizzy and nearly fell back as you held yourself up against the couch arm. “Whoo, okay, I’m going.”

“Yeah, alright,” he stood too. “It is late, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” you focused on your footsteps as you passed him and he followed you to the entryway. You took your purse and faced him. “Thank you.” You held up your wrist. “I owe you.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it myself but… you can repay me with one little thing.”

“Oh?” You pushed the strap of your purse up your shoulder as you slid your feet into your flats and swayed just a little.

“Finish the wine with me. I’m free on Saturday, we could order dinner and maybe watch a movie.”

You pouted in surprise and your eyebrows shot up. “Well, I…”

“Friends.” He said quickly, “That’s all. You pick the movie and I’ll bring the cabernet.”

You sucked in your lip and thought. He hadn’t done anything wrong to you. He had done more than he should have for you. And you were being stupid. He was older than you, certainly. The short greys poking out at his temples betrayed at least forty years and he was just another person trying to get by.

“Okay, I can do Saturday. I work till five, just a half-shift.” You explained. “Should I meet you here or?”

“Yeah, we can do it here.” He touched your shoulder and his hand slowly slipped down your arm. He reached past you and turned the knob and pulled open the door. You moved closer to avoid it hitting you and smelled his woodsy cologne. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” you backed through the door clumsily, “thanks.”

“Saturday.” He pointed at you and then his temple, “Don’t forget.”

“I’ll… try.”

You left him and felt him watching you until you reached your door. You didn’t look back as you let yourself in and locked it behind you. You heard his own shut and let out a breath. What were you doing?

🌆

You couldn’t forget your promise to Andy. You never made plans. You were content to be alone and watch old reality tv shows and forget about your responsibilities. You hoped instead that he might forget and spare you another awkward encounter. You were never a social butterfly and conversation was like pulling teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t long for companionship, it was that it was so impossibly difficult.

But he was waiting for you. As you passed his door at 5:46, he opened it and nearly had you jumping off your feet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” He said, “Just a friendly reminder.”

“Yeah, I just need to get changed,” you fidgeted, “fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” he smiled, “any thoughts on a movie yet?”

“No,” you cringed, “sorry.”

“Go on. I’ll be waiting. You can let yourself in.” He closed the door and you went onward to your own.

You pulled out your most comfortable jeans and a shirt that wasn’t too formal or casual. You changed and fixed your hair a little and switched your socks for less sweaty ones. You slid on some shoes and reluctantly left your apartment. You went to his and knocked before you dared to enter.

“So, uh, I know I said take out,” he called from the kitchen as you inhaled the scent of garlic, “but I got a bit carried away.” “Andy,” you kicked your shoes onto the rack and crept down the hall. “You didn’t have to--”

“I haven’t cooked like this in ages. Oh, and,” he turned as you peered in from the doorway and turned back with two wine glasses poured to the brim, “I got real glasses.”

“Wow, uh…” You took the stem and carefully held it so as not to spill.

“So how was work?”

“Slow.” You answered honestly.

“Saturday’s usually are,” he turned back and stirred the frying pan. “I’m almost done so why don’t you go look for something to watch and I’ll be out with dinner.”

“Okay…” you voice trailed away nervously. He wore a tee that exposed the rest of the tats that stretched up his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but stare at the skull that seemed to look back at you.

You went to the couch and sat in the corner. You sipped the wine and it still burned your nostrils and tongue. You set the glass down carefully and turned on the television with the remote.

You curled your legs up under you habitually and flipped through the titles. No rom coms, that’s awkward, and no horror movies or he’d pull that old high school trick. Maybe a war movie? Oh wait, that one’s about lawyers, that would be good. Or it might make him sad. Hmmm.

You settled on a superhero movie and waited with the intro paused. He appeared shortly with two plates and set them down on the coffee table as he sat beside you on the couch and pulled it closer.

“Nothing too special. I made my own spaghetti sauce though, so much better than the jarred stuff.” He combed his hair back as he set out your cutler with a napkin. “What are watching?”

“I’ve never seen this one,” you said as you hit play and the title flashed up, “Have you?”

“Oh, I don’t really watch that stuff but hey, never too old to start.” He picked up his fork and leaned forward. “Hope you enjoy. I might be a bit rusty. My-- People tell me I put too much garlic in everything.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and sat forward. You took your cutlery and carefully spun the noodles.

You were thankful for the loud crashes of the movie’s opening scene as it meant you could eat and not have to talk. The spaghetti was good and compared to your usual quick and easy meals in a box or can, it was gourmet. When you finished, you wiped your mouth and took a long gulp of the wine without thinking.

You sat back as you grew engrossed with the superheroes origin story and nearly forgot about Andy until he got up to clear the dishes. You offered to pause and he bid you to keep on. He was back in a moment and leaned back beside you. You squirmed and reached for your wine again. The taste was less stringent with each sip.

As the hero readied to face the villain, you emptied the glass and hugged yourself as a warmth glowed in your veins. You felt a hand on your leg as your eyelids drooped and you slumped into the couch. You could still feel the fingers as your fly was unzipped and you groaned as your limbs would not obey you.

The noise of the final battle faded and a heavy weight settled between your legs as tickles lined your neck and jaw, a final hungry kiss on your lips sealing your consciousness.

🌆

Andy’s POV

The wine was potent but Andy was sure to add a little extra kick. Her nerves kept her drinking the dark cabernet and she couldn’t taste the crushed pills through the acidity. He could taste the fermented grapes on her lips though and she moaned beneath him as he rolled her shirt up her torso.

He sat back to make sure she really was out. He snapped his fingers in front of her face and tapped her cheek. She mumbled but only lolled her head. He was done being patient with her. She was so shy it was enraging. He did everything he was supposed to do and she still wouldn’t even look at him. Oh, but she would feel him.

He ran his hands along her figure and basked in the warmth of her skin. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman beneath him? He didn’t like to think like that; didn’t like to remember the past and all he’d lost. He was trying to rebuild and this was the first step.

His hands settled on her stomach. It wasn’t flat and it was bit squishy, he liked that. He closed his eyes and pictured how it would grow. He would be a father again, and a husband. He would be the man he once was.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. He stripped her shirt off completely and bent to catch her nipple in his mouth as it spilled from her bra. He reached around her to unhook the bra entirely and yanked it from under her. She twitched but could not wake as he sucked at her tit and then the other.

He recalled that night on the street when he chased off that other man. It wasn’t the first time he saw her, in fact he had followed her to the store. She didn’t notice him slip in behind her or that he paid for a magazine he wouldn’t read. He remembered how he resisted that night. How he wanted to put her against that wall and finish it then and there.

Her pants slid down her legs easily as he backed off the couch. Her panties tasted like her as he pressed his mouth between her legs. He slung her knees over his shoulders and nuzzled her through the cotton until she soaked them entirely. He pulled them aside and continued to coax her. She came as a ripple flowed through her body and he drank up her unconscious excitement.

He tore her panties down her legs and looked down at her with heavy, hungry breaths. He read that women were more likely to conceive if they were aroused. He swiped his shirt over his head and undid his jeans impatiently. He was incredibly hard and he needed her around him.

He bent her legs, one leaned against the back of the couch as the other hung over the side. He dragged his fingers along her cunt and growled. He shoved his fingers into her and spread them. She was so tight it made him throb.

He pulled out and grabbed his dick. He pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed circles around it. She muttered again and turned her head but he wasn’t afraid of her waking. Even if she did, she couldn’t stop him.

He positioned himself against her entrance and pushed his tip just inside. He gasped and bit his tongue. He could’ve cum at that. He snapped his hips against her and her whole body jerked as he reached his limit. She gurgled and he thrust again.

She clenched around him, her walls hungry for him. He rocked his hips into her and watched her squirm, her eyes flitting back and forth behind her eyelids. He bent over her and pulled her arms above her, holding her hands together against the arm of the couch. He fucked her hard as the entire couch jolted beneath their bodies.

“You like that?” He whispered in her ear. “Huh, this is what you wanted. What you were so afraid of.”

He grunted and bucked even faster. Her body reacted to his and as she came, her juices added to the noise of his intrusion. His flesh slapped against hers loudly as the movie’s effect faded into the background. He grabbed her chin and watched her sleeping face as he pounded into her.

“You want it. You want me. You want me to fill you up.” He snarled. “You want my baby inside of you. You want to grow for me.” He sucked on his tongue as his body began to tense. “I’m going to fuck my baby into you, you bitch.”

He buried his head against her neck and bit into her flesh as he came. He shook on top of her as he emptied inside of her and slowed. He whimpered as he stopped his hip and lingered inside of her. He sighed and panted as he fell limp over her.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done.” He promised her deafened ears.

🌆

You were sore and stiff. You were trapped and suffocating. As you rose back to the surface, you felt the weight over you and began to panic. Your thighs were raw but numbed and your core felt hollow. You tried to remember more than the taste of wine but it was all a fog.

You opened your eyes and felt along the shoulder against your chin. The tattooed skin smelled of sweat and you could barely move beneath Andy. As you tried, you felt him inside of you and squeaked. Then the real panic began and you couldn’t breathe at all.

You beat on his shoulders and he grumbled. You felt him growing inside of you and you flailed against him.

“Please, please, get off.”

He shook his head and raised it slowly. He sat up but brought you with him as he kept you around his hardening dick. He held you in his lap and watched you struggle with his tired eyes.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked languidly.

“What did you--What are you doing?” You shoved against him and yelped as he tilted into you from below.

“What did I do? Oh, you don’t remember?”

“Don’t remember? Let me go! Please.” You whined.

“Come on, don’t be like this. You asked for it, honey.”

“Wha--”

“Oh, you really are a lightweight,” he whistled, “you said you wanted me. You practically begged me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t-- I--”

“Well, what do you remember?” He purred as he subtly rocked into you. “Huh?”

“I don’t--I can’t remember.”

“You really going to do this to me? Act like you never wanted it? Like I didn’t try to resist you, honey, but you wanted it so bad.”

“No, I…” you stared at the tattoo across his chest.

“Look at me,” he gripped your jaw and your eyes flicked up to his. He thrust into you as far as he could and you yelped, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He bit his lip as he continued to fuck you. Your thighs clenched around his but you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“You look at me when I fuck you, huh? Yeah, look at me.”

You covered your face and he pulled your hands away. He twisted your arms behind your back and sped up as he bound you against him.

“It’s alright, honey, I already filled you up nice and good,” he cooed, “This. Is. Just. For. Good. Measure.”

He spoke between shallow breaths and your own heartbeat picked up. Your eyes welled as you couldn’t resist the waves and you came with a pathetic mewl. He pulled you close and turned his face up to kiss you. He nibbled your lip and growled as he came inside of you.

You closed your eyes and waited for him to stop. When he did, he wouldn’t let you go. You fell forward and hung your head beside his as a sob lodged in your throat.

“It’s alright. It’s what I want.” He caressed your lower back, “You’ll want it too. You just need time.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #shy!reader #fic #one shot #dark fic #dark!fic #challenge #writing challenge #defending jacob

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

warmer than cuddles

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: may plays matchmaker and makes some suggestive jokes

prompt: you and peter get caught in the rain and have to share an umbrella

a/n: thank youuu to the angel who requested <3 swear this is my favorite trope to write hehe ☔️

one of the many things you and peter have in common is being lazy. it’s sort of the basis of your friendship. you’re not the kids who drink or party or get in trouble. you play board games and eat pizza on his ripped up couch. the riskiest thing you’ve ever done is sneak into a movie.

peter was so paranoid you’d get caught, he couldn’t even pay attention. he kept whispering to you about paying the whole time. you had to drag him out by his hand after the movie ended. the next time you went to that theater, he bought an extra ticket to “make it even.”

that about put an end to your trying new things phase. you went right back to your comfy nights in pajamas. tackling each other for the remote, baking terrible cookies that you just throw out, sharing a blanket to stay warm. what also helps is that you cuddle under it.

all the fun you need is you, peter, and your love for doing nothing. may disagrees.

she’s always trying to get you two out of the apartment. in her words, it’s “unhealthy for developing teens to spend so much time cooped up inside.” peter once asked which mother’s facebook group she joined. you snickered at that. may gave you a warning look.

well, you don’t have a choice to stay in today. she’s kicking you and peter out because she has guests coming over.

“it’s girl’s night,” may tells the two of you with a satisfied smirk. she hangs her raincoat on the rack and comes into the living room. peter squints his eyes at her. “you have friends?” he sounds too surprised for your liking. you flick his arm hard enough to make him go “ouch!”

“peter, we only have, like, four friends. that’s counting ourselves,” you inform him with a laugh. peter drops his head onto your shoulder. “and i don’t need any of them but you,” he says sarcastically, rubbing his cheek on your sweatshirt. “aw, i know,” you coo and rest your head on his. may crosses her arms and shrugs.

“you should do a group play date with everyone! i haven’t heard from ned in a while,” she suggests, your eyes flicking over to peter. he’s biting back a grin. “play date?” you try to stifle a laugh when you ask. “you know what i mean. a hang out,” may nods at her better word choice. peter winces in protest.

“eh, ned will probably wanna go out somewhere. we don’t do that,” he tells may, like that’s a completely normal thing for a teenager to say. you raise a finger in agreement. she laughs in disbelief at you and peter. you’re splayed out on the couch, on a saturday, complaining about doing anything else.

“you two make me feel young.” may’s words are a joke, but her tone isn’t. “you are young, may,” you reassure her and smile a little. peter says nothing. his eyes become hooded as he settles into you more. “look at you two, like some old married couple,” may gestures to you from where she’s standing. she smiles this time.

peter’s face gets hot from the mention of you being a couple. your heart skips a couple of beats. you’re pretty sure he can tell from how close he is.

“do whatever you want, just not here,” she gets back to the real conversation. peter hides his entire face in your shoulder as a form of protest. you pat his back. “and not each other. unless you’re safe,” may adds. “may, please. no,” he groans out, positive he’s all red now. you blink at her in horror.

may knows what she’s doing. peter isn’t the most subtle person, especially not about liking someone. she’s learned all the signs that her nephew is falling. he’s falling for you. she sees it in you, too. the way your eyes soften when they meet peter’s, how fast you are to hug him back or beam at the silly things he says.

you two spend so much time apart from your other friends, you basically are a couple. you’re just not old or married. the only thing you need is a push to realize that.

“ok, we’re gonna go now,” peter decides and pulls away from you. “god bless,” you say only so he can hear. he chuckles at that, you getting up from the couch. giving him a knowing smile, you grab one of his hands. he lets you pull him to his feet while exhaling. he’s already exhausted. may watches and shakes her head.

peter walks up to give her a quick hug. “enjoy girl’s night. love you,” he murmurs as she squeezes him tight. even though they tease each other a lot, their relationship is really sweet. it’s very telling how a guy treats his mother. well, aunt in this case. that thought has always been in the back of your mind.

“have fun!” you grin at may when her and peter pull apart. he comes back over to you and tugs on your sleeve. “thanks, kids. we’ll be done around eleven,” she lets you know. you’re already getting your shoes on and ready to leave. eleven is a while from now.

“don’t forget an umbrella! it’s drizzling!” may calls after you two. peter grabs hers that’s leaning against the front door. it’s pink with purple polka dots. you giggle at that. “hey, i like pink,” he defends himself and opens the door, letting you out first. you raise your hands in defense, leaving the apartment.

peter waves at may one last time. “good luck, peter,” she tells him once you reach the stairs. he furrows both eyebrows. “good luck with what?” “you’ll see,” may raises her own eyebrows in a way that’s all too familiar to peter. he calls it her face of wisdom.

still confused, peter heads out. he finds you at the bottom of the stairs. you shove your hands in your pockets and push against the door to open it. peter meets you outside, twirling the umbrella between his fingers.

“is there anywhere you wanna go?” he asks as you start to walk. you’re just going down the block for now. “back upstairs,” you sigh out. “i wish. not an option, though,” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. you fumble to pull up your hood. he easily reaches over and does it for you.

“thanks,” you say quietly. “you’re welcome,” peter pats the top of your head for emphasis. “we could just walk around.” “until eleven o’clock? that’s five hours from now,” you laugh out, adjusting your hoodie to block your face. disappointment crosses over his features.

“should’ve brought my suit,” he mutters mostly to himself. linking your arm with his, your eyes widen. “i’m not trusting you to swing me around in this weather.” his bicep flexes when your arm wraps around his own. “what? i’ve done it before, y/n/n. on patrol.” you turn your head towards him.

“didn’t you get hurt last time?” you already know the answer. “sprained wrist and a few cuts,” he grumbles, you humming because you’re right. he’d called you in tears when he got home, scared he broke something. you reminded him he would heal soon and stayed on the phone until he calmed down.

that ended up being the whole night. you’re probably the most supportive of peter being spider-man. you of course worry about the toll it takes, but you understand why he does it. the least you can do is be there for him while he navigates the superhero world. not talk him out of it or scold him for making mistakes, be there.

that’s why he loves his lazy days with you so much. they’re his break, his escape from what he lies awake worrying about most nights. you’ve seen what he has to go through, so you respect that. whatever he needs to do to unwind is fine by you. as long as you get to do it with him.

“then you couldn’t patrol for weeks. you could barely hold a pencil.” your other arm sneaks around his. they’re both hugging him now. “you had to be my note taker,” peter reminisces, a smile making its way onto his face. “that sucked, man. you’re such a perfectionist about them,” you breathe out.

peter flips the umbrella around in a show-off kind of way. “you don’t complain when i send them to you.” he sounds so cocky you can’t help but roll your eyes. he isn’t wrong, though. “whatever. seriously, where should we go?” “uh,” peter’s eyes scan the block for inspiration. they land on a man carrying takeout.

“dinner? not at a restaurant since we’re in sweats,” he adds the last part so you don’t have to. “ooh, let’s go to panera,” you happily squeeze his arm. peter quirks an eyebrow at you. “you’re always hungry after.” “so? we can get dessert, too. we have a while.” that makes his heart flutter. a while with you.

“cool, cool, cool,” he sings to you, leaning into your side as you walk. you giggle and push at his shoulder. “i think we can make it there before the rain picks up.” there’s a clap of thunder right after he says that, like something out of a movie. it’s followed by a heavier rain coming down on you two. you pull at the strings of your hoodie to keep it tighter on your head.

“jinxed it,” you remark, both of you stopping so peter can open the umbrella. “ugh,” he grunts out. his lower lip is between his teeth while he undoes the velcro. he pushes down and watches as the umbrella springs open for you two. “here, c’mere,” peter welcomes you under as he holds it above your heads.

it doesn’t quite fit you both since it’s only meant for one person. you forgot he took may’s. the two of you have to squish together so you can avoid the rain, which is pitter pattering down hard on the sidewalk.

you’re comfortable under here with him. the freezing cold weather outside of the umbrella is hardly an issue anymore.

peter turns to face you, letting out a breathless laugh. “you can take off your hood now.” your arms slip from around his. you remove it from your head and give him a toothy grin. it’s one that’s meant to be over exaggerated. “there’s that pretty face,” peter’s voice gets quieter. unlike what you did, that wasn’t a joke.

your pretty face loses its smile. you’re suddenly very aware of how close peter is to you.

you can see the faint scar on his chin from when he banged it into a wall in your living room. he’d ran straight into it during your two person game of hide and seek. yes, you still play that. it was gushing blood for half an hour.

there are also the thousands of freckles dotting his face, the ones you only notice by looking at him super hard. you try to count them whenever you get bored. peter stares back at you while you fall in love with every tiny detail about him.

he takes the time to admire your lips, not just because they look really kissable right now. because of every curious expression they press into when he does something you can’t believe. your eyes, that he feels a sense of safety and honesty and familiarity every time he looks into. he finds them and feels like he’s home.

“peter?” you speak up after a few moments. your tone is hesitant, as if whatever you’re going to ask will change what you have forever. that’s because it might. it’s silent except for the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. peter finally answers, almost in a whisper. “yeah?”

“i... i think,” you clear your throat before going on. his eyes trail down to your lips again, then back up to your twinkling ones. even on a gloomy day like this, they could light up the whole sky. “i think i love you,” you get out, a hand over your racing heart. peter gives you a small but sure nod. “i think i love you, too.”

he takes a step closer to you, if that’s even possible. his hand without the umbrella comes up to hold your cheek. you watch as he uses his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain droplets. your head tilts to the side, lips parted on instinct. peter leans in until his lips just brush yours, letting you decide what comes next.

you choose to close the space between you two. his eyes squeeze shut, whole face scrunched up when he kisses back. this is a release of all the emotions he’s been holding in that he didn’t even realize he had. you slip into a rhythm, using the angle to move your lips against peter’s.

his hand drops from your cheek to your jaw to support you while you kiss. your own hands grab his biceps, fingers pressing into him, depesrate to have him in your arms. peter lets out a content sigh against your lips before detaching them. it’s not for long. he comes right back in after taking a breath.

you get one long peck from him, then another that’s softer than the last. you give him a short kiss back, lips curving into a smile when this one ends. peter’s thumb smooths over your jawline while he searches for your eyes. he grins at you and tightens his grip on the umbrella handle. he’s surprised it didn’t blow away in the midst of your mini makeout.

“i definitely love you, peter,” you state so genuinely, hands on his shoulders now. that has to be peter’s favorite sentence he’s ever heard. the most beautiful combination of words, said by you to him. “i definitely love you, y/n,” peter agrees, punctuating his statement with one last kiss. you haven’t stopped smiling when his lips meet the corner of yours.

may was right about two things that night. you needed the umbrella for that huge storm, but it did more than protect your from the rain. it also brought you and peter together in a way. the second thing she was right about was that peter loves you, and every feeling he has mirror yours for him.

actually, she was right about three things. you two have to get out of the apartment more often.

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #marvel #peter parker fluff #spiderman #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

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p---ink · 3 years

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go? I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen. For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance. I am not quite finished being cruel. With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation. The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep. The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call. Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.” Her voice was gritty and rough. She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves. Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated. A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her. She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others. As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp. It wasna a mobile number. In fact, tis a telephone booth. Gote Lane, in Queensferry. Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth. Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior. But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air. Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above. Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere. She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome. Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day. I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.” Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie. I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak. His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert. She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song. They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last. “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked. “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da. But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s. A little like yours, actually, Sassenach. That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “She was the best person I knew. Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was. An’ it made me a better person tae love her. What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance. All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man. She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t. Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face. He placed his hand on the bench between them. Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm. There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own. Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry. For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize. I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon. An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother. I, of all people. Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face. She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose. Better some days than others. Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.” Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you? Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty? I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments. She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms. Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t. When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything. The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship. As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky. The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew. Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source. She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology. “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away. Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you. All of you. If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore? Ethically speakin’.” He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled. “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye? So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question. Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient? Six months? A year? Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken. Sae, two years? Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed. Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river. A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above. She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds. A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency. And then, she allowed herself to cry.

#my writing #outlander

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where-fantasy-meets-reality · 3 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

(GIF not mine)

W/C: 2.1K

Warnings: Fluffy overload

A/N: So, this is my first ever posting any kind of writing. I have written before but I have never had the courage to post anything. But, @mrskenobi19 and some other friends gave me the courage to put this out there. I own nothing, I was just having fun. Hope you all enjoy 😃

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“....Ugh, crap….”

The rain was now coming down in a heavy downpour, like someone had turned on a shower head with you standing under it, as you made your way through the slightly crowded city sidewalk. The dark sky rumbled as you noticed the clouds roll across it.

Most people had taken cover once the storm had started, but not you. Seeing as you had your umbrella with you, you decided to plow through it.

At the time that had seemed like a good idea, after all, that is why you took the umbrella with you when you looked at the forecast this morning; that is until the wind picked up.

Now the rain was actually flying at you. The bottom of your pants were soaking wet and the water dripped off your umbrella onto your hands, soaking the cuffs of your rain jacket. Your shoes were starting to make that squishy sound from trudging through the puddles on the sidewalk as you maneuvered your way through the crowd of people who had decided to brave the storm like you.

Why hadn’t you worn your rain boots again?

“...Because it wasn’t supposed to be this bad…..just a light rain the weatherman had said...”

You huffed frustratedly under your breath, answering your own question.

The wind was blowing your now damp hair across your face, making it even more challenging to see.

Trying to secure your umbrella tightly to you in a one handed grip, you used your other hand to now brush the hair that the wind kept blowing out of your face.

But just as you let go, a surge of wind came rolling behind you, threatening to knock you off your feet.

While you had managed to catch your balance, your umbrella had not fared so well. The strong gust of wind had blown it inside out.

“Prefect!” You hissed as you stood in the middle of the now empty sidewalk, fighting with the broken umbrella.

Whatever little part of you had been dry was now absolutely soaked. The rain was falling down through your hair, down your face, to your eyes, blurring your vision.

The faster you tried to fix the umbrella and be on your way, the more it seemed to jam.

And all of this for a cup of coffee.

You were so focused on your umbrella that you didn’t notice when the rain seemed to stop falling on you. Looking up, you realized there was a large umbrella covering you.

“Hello there.”

You looked up to notice that a man was now standing over you, as you were slightly crouched down, still trying to fix your umbrella.

His voice had a wonderful accent to it. English? Or was it Scottish? His thick auburn hair seemed to be blowing in the wind as much as yours had been despite its short length. His beard was neatly groomed. But his eyes, his eyes were really what caught your attention. They were the prettiest blue you had ever seen, almost like the blue of the ocean on a summer's day. They really stood out against the dark gray sky that framed him. His navy sweater and grey peacoat certainly helped enhance his looks.

You regretted wearing your sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I saw you struggling and I was wondering if I might be able to help?”

How long had you been staring at him? His soft smile and his head nod as he gestured toward your broken umbrella snapped you back to reality.

“Ah….Yeah….I think it’s broken, a huge gust of wind knocked it back and I can’t seem to fix it.”

His expression turned to a slight frown as his brows furrowed.

“...Oh dear….Well, that's dreadful...I’m terribly sorry…..”

Was he staring at you too? Your eyes had locked with his for a brief second and it seemed as if the whole world had stopped spinning. It didn’t matter that you were both standing in the middle of the city sidewalk in the pouring rain; there was only him.

“....Well, are you going somewhere close by? I’d be happy to escort you. I had originally approached, hoping I could be of service. But, if not then the least I could do is see that you get to your destination as dry as possible.”

“Who was this man?” You thought to yourself. How lucky could you be that not only was this stranger good looking, but that he was also kind and helpful.

For the first time, you smiled. “Are you sure, you don’t have to, I don’t want to impose on you.”

You really didn’t. Plus, you were only going three doors down from where you stood and it’s not like it would matter if you got any more wet than you already were.

His smile was warm and genuine. “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I offered.” Extending his arm out toward you, his eyes seemed to speak more words to you than he did. “Where can I take you too?”

Sheepishly, you took his arm. “...It’s just a few doors down, I was originally heading to that cafe over there.” You point to the building with a red door.

His eyes closed momentarily as his mouth curled into a side smile. “Well….what a coincidence, I am too.”

Sticking his umbrella into his elbow, he now held his free hand out toward you. “I’m Ben by the way.”

Chuckling, you shook his hand. “Y/N”

Starting the walk toward the cafe, you noticed that he made it a point to keep pace with you and make sure that you both were actually able to share the umbrella. Clearly your escort was a gentleman.

Approaching the red door, he unlinked arms with you, moved to the side and held it open. “After you my dear.”

Blushing with a smile, you didn’t say anything as you stepped over the threshold.

Why couldn’t you stop smiling?

As you heard the door close behind you, you turned to find him shaking his umbrella off on the carpet.

As the two of you approached the counter, you turned to him. “Allow me to buy you a coffee, as a thank you.”

He shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “No, that’s not necessary, I was glad to be a help.”

“I know, but I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You annunciated the word “I” as you echoed the phrase he had said to you on the street corner.

He chuckled, a deep throaty sound; and it made your stomach flutter. “Okay, okay….you win this round.”

You noticed he said “this round.” Would there be another “round”?....The more you looked at this stranger with kind eyes and a warm smile, you did find yourself hoping that there would be another “round.”

After placing the order, the two of you stood off to the side waiting.

“So….what brings you out to a cafe in the middle of a rain storm.”

His eyes seem to light up. “I had planned on meeting some friends here. Well, I say friends but they’re more like my younger brother and sister; I’ve known them both for ages.”

His eyes lingered on you as if he was memorizing your face. “....And how about you?”

You laughed nervously. “Sadly, I am just a coffee addict. I thought I could make it here and back in time before the rain got too bad.”

His playful smile caused you to mirror his expression. “Ah, I see.”

The sound of the barista calling your name out broke the bubble that you two seemed to think you were in.

Moving toward the counter, the two of you grabbed your respective coffees.

Now what? The two of you were looking awkwardly at one another. It was as if you two wanted to say so much but at the same time you both said nothing.

Your eyes darted to the floor nervously as you tried to think of something to say

The sound of him clearing his throat caused you to look back up at him expectantly.

“.....if you aren’t doing anything you’re more than welcome to join me. My friends are hardly ever on time for anything and I’d love some company while I wait.”

He turned to the side and pointed at one of the free tables under the large windows.

Your wide smile creeped over your face. “I’d like that….thank you.”

The two of you sat down at one of the tables he had originally pointed to, but not before he pulled your chair out for you.

It didn’t matter that you were absolutely drenched and uncomfortable in your clothes. Or that you had left the television on in your apartment thinking that you would only be gone for five minutes. You could only focus on Ben.

The conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a history teacher down at the local high school and you had always loved history. Additionally, the more you two talked, the more you seemed to have similar interests in all the same areas. How many other men had you met that could enthusiastically talk about the finer points of movie musicals with the same enthusiasm that they could talk about serious dramas? Food, music, books, current events...the topics were limitless. The man even went from quoting Shakespeare to Spider-Man in just two sentences.

All of it made you not only laugh, but your walls slowly came down for this charming and intelligent man. You had completely lost all track of time to the point where you hadn't noticed that it stopped raining.

“So, do you come here often?” You asked him.

“I do. I usually stop in on my way to or home from work….Sometimes both depending on how the day went.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I get that.”

The sound of his cell phone buzzing on the table caught both of your attention.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.” He said picking up the phone and reading the text.

“......Huh…..Typical….” He smiled as he shook his head slightly back and forth.

You gave him a raised eyebrow look, asking a silent question.

“Well….it seems Anakin and Ahsoka are so late that they would rather we catch up for dinner instead….” He chuckled as he put the phone down. “Why am I not surprised?” He said looking back at you.

You looked at your watch. Wait….what? Dinner?! How late was it? You looked out the window. When had it stopped raining? How enchanted by this stranger were you? You needed to move along before you bored him to death.

Brushing your hair behind your hair, you stood up. “Well I should probably get going, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Standing, he gave you another one of his infectious smiles. “It was a pleasure. I enjoyed your company very much. It was lovely to meet you Y/N.” He stuck out his hand once again for a handshake.

Smiling, you shook his hand. “It was lovely meeting you too Ben.”

As you turned and headed for the door you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach that you could possibly never see this charming and interesting stranger again. Before you had any idea of what you were actually doing, you stopped. Running with the surge of courage you had before you thought too much about it. Turning on your heel, you casually looked at him.

“Maybe you could lend me your umbrella again sometime?”

His glazed eyes that had been watching you walk away cleared as he blinked rapidly at you, taking your words in. The thoughts he had been lost in would never become a reality.

“I would like that very much.” He gave you that smile again.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if it’s supposed to rain again tomorrow?”

The glee in his blue eyes was unmistakable as he understood your hidden question. “...You know, I believe it is….Around 3, actually I think the forecast said…”

“ 3’oclock huh…..well…..I may just have to bring my broken umbrella to get a coffee in hopes that a kind stranger helps me out again.”

“....Hmmmm that does sound like a twist of fate….perhaps I’ll have to stop in for a coffee myself after school, see if anyone needs help with their umbrellas…”

With a polite head nod, you slowly backed towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening Ben.”

He raised his coffee towards you. “You as well Y/N.”

As you walked down the bustling sidewalk, the sunshine was now shining across your face, drying your damp clothing. You sighed happily as you replayed your afternoon with Ben. You really liked him. I mean, what wasn’t there to like? He was kind, polite, funny, charming…..and not to mention beautiful…...a twist of fate indeed.

Waiting till tomorrow at 3 would be practically impossible, but the prospect of seeing Ben again would make it all worth it.

#obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan fic

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breynekai-tfc · 3 years

Text

Number One Fan

Summary: Danny is injured during a ghost fight one night. Dash finds him, takes him home, and nurses him back to health.

Length: 7081 words

Part 2

Basically some meandering interactions between Dash and Phantom, with hints toward a one-sided attraction on Dash’s part. This is a two-shot; the second half will be up tomorrow.

Read on FF.net, AO3, or keep reading below.

He sucked up the puddle of arachnid into a Fenton Thermos. Holes littered the lawn around him where its feet had sunk into the spring soil, muddy and loose from three days’ worth of constant drizzle. ‘British weather’, his mom would have called it. Even now a light mist - heavier than fog but not substantial enough to be called rain - floated through the air. It had already coated Danny’s hair, face, and suit in a thin layer of condensation. The water ran over his face like sweat.

He was exhausted. If he had needed to breathe, he would have been panting. If he’d had a pulse, it would have been racing. Instead, his core ached dully, complaining of the expenditure of energy. His aura was not as bright as it should have been on this dark, misty, overcast night. Normally he would have been a beacon; right now he probably blended into his surroundings, giving off no more light than a will-o-the-wisp in a murky swamp.

And still, it wasn’t over.

After defeating a ghost and containing it in a Thermos, any ectoplasmic waste or byproducts it left behind should disintegrate and vanish. The Thermos completely sealed ectoenergy, thereby cutting off the core from any parts remaining in the world. But the Amity Park Public Library was still covered in a purple, pulsing tent of ghostly webbing.

Geez, he hoped there wasn’t another one.

Danny eyed the building. He wasn’t sure how long it had been sequestered like this. Presumably not much longer than it had taken for his ghost sense to explode out of his cold core, jolting him awake, and for him to race in the direction it pointed him. Five minutes later, he had discovered the library and the Godzilla-scale spider crouching on top of it.

He had no idea what time it was. He hadn’t checked the clock before flying off into the night.

It had been about eleven when he wrapped up his patrol earlier - a patrol which, ironically, had been entirely quiet. Goes to show what happens when you skimp on security duties because of bad weather, some mild discomfort from having to fly through a neverending curtain of damp. He wondered if he had stayed out a little longer if he could have intercepted the spider before it nested. Ghosts often tended to get a lot stronger when they were allowed to accomplish their objectives, drawing energy from the sheer satisfaction of fulfilling an obsession. Who knew how long it had been working before its sudden power boost triggered Danny’s ghost sense?

Danny squinted through the drizzle at the cloud cover, barely making out the position of the moon. Maybe three o’clock or after? He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to beat the hairy, eight-legged behemoth. The fight had been tedious and drained his strength, but in all likelihood was shorter than it had felt.

He wasn’t sure he had actually defeated it.

His core twinging, he forced himself back into the air and drifted across the ruined lawn, across the parking lot, and to the side of the building. A feeling of unease filled him as he drew closer, the product of psychological wards woven into the strands of spider silk to scare away predators. Ignoring the way his core clenched and his skin crawled, Danny grit his teeth, turned intangible, and phased through the protective layer of webbing.

Inside, the dread atmosphere was even more overwhelming, hanging in the air like a miasma. Webbing draped over every surface and hung from the ceiling in loops and clumps, glowing a sickly shade of violet. It provided the only light in the building, and Danny’s own silver aura barely reflected back to him.

After nearly three years of being dead and fighting ghosts on a daily basis, Danny was rarely unnerved by the things he saw. But this was spooky, even to him. He shrugged and shook out his shoulders and arms, chalking up his feelings of trepidation to basic survival instincts, which were good things. He was tired, and his body knew it, and it was just sending signals to his brain to be careful. This was not actually all that frightening. Nope. Not frightening at all.

Danny floated further into the building, senses on high alert. The webbing stretched on and on, but nowhere did Danny see a creature who could have spun it. This was surely the work of the larger arachnid he had fought outside… right?

Danny reached the central help desk. It was a small unit of furniture - a U-shaped table, return bin, filing cabinets, and several computers with the library catalog system, all sitting in the middle of a wide and open space of carpet at the hub of the fiction and reference shelves. As Danny drifted towards it, he was so focused on looking and listening for an enemy on all sides that he floated straight into a web. Unlike the thick, goopy strands coating the rest of the building, this was a delicately woven oval suspended between the floor and ceiling. The kind of webs spiders built for catching prey.

He yelped and flung himself backwards, but the web followed him, snared him, snapped back into place with Danny still firmly attached to it. The webbing clung to his face, filling his eyes with violet light, inciting panic. He pulled at his arms, frantic to wipe the strands from his face, get them off of his body, but nothing was moving, he couldn’t budge, he was stuck, like a fly, and what did spiders do to flies…?

The realization of his own stupidity struck him like a slap in the face, and a split second later, he was intangible and shooting backwards, arms pinwheeling as he forced himself to a mid-air stop - before he blindly landed himself in a similar trap, or before he decided to phase through the roof of the building, call it a night, let another ghost hunter deal with this.

He wasn’t allowed to do that.

The leaden weights of responsibility wrapped around his body, draining the blind panic and replacing it with lucid determination. If Valerie or his parents were hurt because of some mess he failed to resolve, if one of them died, he would never be able to forgive himself, would never be able to claim the mantle of hero for the rest of his half-life. That reality was much more frightening than anything a ghost could throw at him.

As he centered himself, Danny noticed that the web he had just extracted himself from was vibrating, humming tautly, shivering from floor to ceiling. His eyes followed the anchoring strands of the web upwards. He groaned, and everything suddenly made sense.

On the ceiling, stretching from one wall to another and looking like a scene out of Femalien, were eggs, a hundred of them, violent purple and struck through by glowing green fissures like ichor. The spider he had faced outside of the library must have been their mother, and her objective had been finding a safe place to nest and lay her eggs. Having accomplished that, she was at her most ferocious when a certain human-ghost hybrid had shown up to threaten her children.

Danny had vaguely known that ghosts could reproduce - how else could he explain Box Lunch? But if this was seeing the miracle of ghost life in action, it was nothing he ever wished to see again.

The trembles from the web rippled through the eggs on the high ceiling of the library. First in the middle, expanding outwards in waves, the eggs began to wobble, began to crack with sharp snaps of verdant light. As he watched the first legs begin to poke through purple membranes, Danny realized why the oval-shaped web had been created. It would trap prey, and in thrashing for escape, whatever unfortunate creature (or person) was snared in the web would be ringing a dinner bell, telling the babies that it was time to wake up and have some breakfast.

The first of the brood had breached their cells and were dropping onto the floor. Deep black in color, struck through by ectoplasmic green striations, they were the size of large dogs, and they were fast. As soon as their myriad eyes found Danny, they began to leap at him.

Crying out, Danny flung up an ectoplasmic energy shield. The newborn spiders slammed into it, causing the shield to flare and for Danny’s core to tighten painfully. The shield broke within seconds, and the rush of arachnids slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

Danny saw legs, flashes of black eyes with verdance burning deep within, and then pain like acid burst against his right shoulder, his stomach, his left leg. He screamed, feeling the bright acidic energy flowing into him, burning him from the inside as it bloomed across and underneath his skin. Distantly, he felt something soft drifting over him, light as snowfall but as firm as steel cables. It crossed his bleary vision, sickly purple.

The weights on his chest, his arms, his legs, were abruptly flung off of him. He was left staring at the ceiling, where spiders continued to crack their eggs and fall to the ground, but he could hear their hissing voices, impacts, sounds of tearing, squeals of pain, splashes of ectoplasm on carpet. The spider brood was fighting. Apparently there wasn’t enough of him to go around.

Danny could not move. His thoughts were blasted with hot green pain, eating through his limbs and leaving cold numbness in its wake. He knew he had been bitten, repeatedly. This was poison. His enemies were fighting for the chance to devour him. And he could not move.

The deadly, acidic pain trickled down from his shoulder and up from his stomach and danced around his core, which stubbornly burned it away. If not his body, at least his essence was refusing to go down without a fight.

The realization that he was going to die, really die, eaten alive and entirely helpless to do anything about it, galvanized him. He grunted, a strangled sound from deep in his chest. Then Danny pushed at his core. He had no confidence that he would be able to move his limbs to do a damned thing, but if his core was fighting, he would use it as his best asset. He concentrated on it with a singular intensity, blocking out the squall of the hungry spiders, blocking out his pain, willing his core to expand, explode if it needed to.

A different but familiar type of cold rushed through him. A split-second later, a blizzard burst from his awakened cold core, howling through the room and freezing everything in its path. It hit the walls and ceiling and windows, shrieking, and died away. In its wake - silence, like a winter’s night under a blanket of snow.

Icy energy crackled over his skin, momentarily halting the spread of the venom. Danny wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, succumb to the cold numbness of poison and frost. But the spiders weren’t gone, and the next prey they sought would be outside of the library with no weapons to defend themselves. This was a horde that could kill a town. Danny had to protect them.

With a Herculean effort, Danny sat up. The webbing laced over his body crackled and splintered to pieces. The room around him had been transformed into a glimpse of a modern-day Ice Age. Thick, supernaturally blue ice coated the library’s every surface, the spiders and their webs only barely visible in its bright but murky depths. Danny concentrated on moving his right hand, but it was entirely numb and dead to him. He switched to his left, fumbling for the Thermos that hung on his right side. He pulled the strap across his chest until the Thermos was sitting in his lap, wedged between his thighs for support. He unscrewed the lid, lifted it with one hand, braced it against his chest, and hit the button.

Blue light swirled from the softly whirring device, but with no target in its path, it simply dissipated into the air. Frowning, Danny channeled some of his own depleted power into the Thermos to influence its behavior. The light began to do what he wanted. It condensed above the checkout desk in a bright orb. Like a black hole, it began to absorb the ectoplasmic energy around it. Ice, webbing, spiders, everything ghostly in the room began cracking apart and flying into the focal point of the power, which in turn compacted and channeled the energy into the containment device. Danny felt it tugging on even him, but because of the nature of the energy fueling it, he was not swept up in the maelstrom of deconstruction.

No more than a minute later, the room was cleared. Danny snapped the lid back on the Thermos, and everything went dark. Without the ice or webbing, there was little to illuminate the library. After a few seconds, as his eyes adjusted, the room clarified under the soft orange glow of the street lamps outside.

Danny’s core felt like stretched taffy, or a threadbare cloth. It felt like if he were to exert any more pressure on it, it would snap or implode in on itself. Danny was surprised he hadn’t reverted to his human form yet.

He glanced down at himself. He couldn’t see the bite on his shoulder, but he could see the ones on his abdomen and his left leg. Four punctures, holes left in his jumpsuit, roughly the size of nickels. They oozed something green, which Danny might have mistaken for his own ectoplasm if not for the fetid feeling the ooze gave off. Danny wasn’t sure what the poison would do to him, if it was meant to paralyze him or kill him or turn his insides into goo. Already it was fighting his cold core to continue its inextricable path through his body.

A certainty settled over Danny, based on no evidence but his own gut feelings: if he returned to human form, with this poison coursing through him, it would be the end of him.

Sick with dread, Danny fell forward, planting his left arm against the floor, dragging his right leg underneath him, pushing to standing. He nearly toppled over again. His left leg from the knee down was numb, and it barely supported his weight. Danny only managed to walk by rocking onto it and back to his right leg before his knee had the chance to buckle. He did not dare fly.

Danny reached the door and opened it by hand. The webbing that had covered the building earlier was gone, destroyed with the capture of the spider brood. Dazed, Danny hobbled into the parking lot and across the lawn.

He had to get home to Fentonworks. His parents would have something in their lab that could get him through this, preserve his ghost half long enough for it to fight off the poison. Maybe, if he gave himself an injection of purified ectoplasm it would bolster the energy in his core, or maybe he could just toss himself into the Ghost Zone and absorb the atmospheric ectoenergy there.

He had to get home.

He had to walk there.

How many miles was it?

Danny stumbled down the sidewalk in a haze of existential terror and pain. The poison had begun to sludge through him again, climbing his thigh, spreading across his back, filling his chest. He began to feel light-headed, and the edges of his vision were filling with shadows. His feet jerked him forward numbly, but he had no perception of actually moving.

His left knee buckled, and Danny fell to the ground. He tried to catch himself with his hands, but they didn’t respond to the commands from his brain. His chin throbbed dully where it hit concrete.

Danny lay with his chest against the ground, arms limp at his sides, face turned toward the grass. Moisture pooled in his eyes and trickled out of the corners. If he’d had the energy for it, he might have been sobbing. But his upper body was numb, and so was most of the rest of him. Cotton wrapped around his head.

He was dimly aware of sounds: the crunch of tires over asphalt, the slamming of a car door, a shout. His body was turned over, presumably by a person. Danny’s vision was too full of shadows to see who it was.

After that, there was nothing.

---------

Dash had woken to the sound of his PhanClub Ghost Spotters app shouting, “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!”

Blearily, he grabbed his phone off the bedside table and swiped to unlock it. His eyes scanned the notification, picking out key words: public library, giant spider, literally it’s as big as a house, level 5 apparition or higher. It was 2:36 a.m.

Dash groaned, letting the hand holding his phone drop onto the mattress next to his pillow. He was too tired to deal with a fucking ghost spider halfway across town. He had school tomorrow, and besides that, it was a fucking ghost spider. He had no plans of being eaten.

He was nearly back to sleep when his phone nagged him again. “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!” Against his better judgement, Dash brought the screen back up.

2:41 - Phantom is engaging the spider. #IRememberEmber58

And like that, he was wide awake, sitting up in bed and staring at the notification.

It was a long shot. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get to the library, not including the time it took for him to get dressed, sneak downstairs to his car, and actually hit the road. There was a chance Phantom would be long gone by the time he got there.

But…

He was already moving, pulling on sweats and a hoodie, cramming his feet into sneakers that already had the laces tied.

But a level 5 apparition was tough, and a spider the size of a house was a new enemy. It might put up a real fight. If Dash got there in time, he would not only be able to catch a glimpse of his hero in action, but he would also be able to get some new material for his scrapbook. Grabbing his Fenton Camera (the only camera on the market with film and lenses specifically designed to capture ectoplasmic radiation), Dash crept out of his room.

His parents were heavy sleepers. Besides, he was seventeen, and the probability of him getting in trouble for going out at night was extremely low, even if he was caught. As long as he was on track for his scholarship, his parents hardly cared what he did. But Dash was still careful to move quietly through the house. Encountering his folks would waste precious time.

Shortly, he was out the front door, crossing the driveway to the curb, and climbing into his black convertible - top up, because of the absolute crap weather lately. He turned the key in the ignition, put it into gear, and sped out into the silent streets of Amity Park.

In the two and a half years since the PhanClub had been founded, many members had joined, and many of them had since become inactive. Everyone in town - except the Fentons and a few other diehards - had accepted that Phantom was a bona fide hero. No one had abandoned him in that sense. But after two and a half years of seeing Phantom kick ghost butt around town, the ghostly hero had lost his novelty for a lot of people, who then moved onto other things. There were very few members left who, like Dash, were willing to hop out of bed in the middle of the night to drive to ghost fights and take pictures. Most members had either muted their nighttime notifications or gotten rid of the Ghost Spotters app entirely.

Dash considered himself Phantom’s number one fan. He wore the badge with pride and contested it with anyone who tried to claim it (though very few bothered anymore). Sure, there were others on the Ghost Spotters app, like IRememberEmber58, who posted every ghostly encounter they came across, but these guys were “ghostakus” - they were in it for the ghosts, all ghosts, any ghosts. Some Ghost Spotters even supported the local bad guys. Ghosts like Ember, Technus, even the freaking Box Ghost had fans, and many Ghost Spotters would take bets on ghost fights, not over who would win - that was always Phantom - but how long their favorite ghost could escape the Fenton Thermos.

There was even a trading card game… okay, Dash collected those, too. They were pretty cool.

But for Dash, there was only one reason to be in the Ghost Spotters, and that was to be alerted of every appearance of Danny Phantom possible. Watching Phantom in action, risking his life to selflessly protect the people of Amity Park, displaying awesome feats of power, and doing it all with a good sense of humor - it never got old, and Dash didn’t think it ever would.

Dash drove to the library at however many miles over the speed limit he could get away with. Every few minutes, the Ghost Spotters app would light up with a new notification. Dash grabbed his phone and glanced at them:

2:50 - Spider is down. I repeat, spider is down. #IRememberEmber58

2:51 - Vestigial ghost matter on library not disappearing. Phantom looks wary. #IRememberEmber58

2:52 - Phantom entering library. Ghost fight part deux? #IRememberEmber58

2:58 - Webbing on library vanished. May be over people. #IRememberEmber58

Dash growled. He was so close, but it looked like this was going to be a waste of time after all.

At last, the public library rose in Dash’s sight down the road. Like IRememberEmber58 had indicated, everything seemed quiet. Dash figured he ought to drive by anyway, see the damage, maybe catch a glimpse of Phantom flying away, make sure this wasn’t a complete fucking waste of time.

As he pulled up along the eastern side of the library, Dash’s phone went off one more time.

3:01 - Phantom emerging from library - on foot? Probability of injury high. #IRememberEmber58

Dash blinked at the notification. He took his foot off of the pedals, letting his car cruise slowly down the road, all while he squinted through the damp on his windshield towards the front of the library.

There. At the end of the parking lot, cutting across the grass toward the sidewalk a few hundred feet down the road from Dash’s car. Phantom’s aura was so weak that he barely stood out from his misty surroundings. He was limping, on the ground - the actual ground. Dash could see that his right arm was hanging at his side like dead weight and that his head was down, like all of his attention was on putting one foot in front of the other.

This was not good.

Fear wound its cold fingers around Dash’s heart and squeezed. Dash had never seen his hero in such bad shape; even when he lost battles, it was because the other ghost would get away, not because they actually defeated him in combat. Nervous, unsure of what he should be doing, Dash let his car keep coasting down the road so that he could follow Phantom, make sure he got to where he was going okay.

Phantom reached the sidewalk, Dash following a few yards behind. The ghost’s steps were slowing, and he was not walking in a straight line.

All of a sudden, one of Phantom’s knees gave out and he fell over face-first onto the ground.

He did not get up again.

“Shit!” said Dash. His foot slammed down on the accelerator, and his car leaped forward before he managed to slam his foot on the brake. He was out of his car a second later, running around the front of it, falling onto his knees by Phantom’s head.

“Phantom!” he cried out. “Hey man, are you okay?”

Phantom did not respond, did not move. He lay on the wet sidewalk in front of Dash completely inert, damp hair hanging over the half of his face that was turned upward. A Fenton Thermos, strapped over his left shoulder, lay in the small of his back, its indicator pulsing red.

Dash brought up his hands, and they hung in the air over Phantom’s back, shaking. He was hesitant to reach out and touch his idol. He had not been this close to Phantom since the time at Fentonworks back in his freshman year, when they had both been shrunk by some loony Fenton invention and had to fight Skulker to get back to their normal sizes. A true team-up, and Phantom hadn’t spoken to him since. Instead, Phantom had gone on to become even more powerful, defeating huge and impossible foes, rising to a place Dash could never hope to be, probably forgetting all about Dash in the process. Dash didn’t deserve to be this close to Phantom, not anymore.

But Phantom was in trouble, and Dash was all the help he had. It looked like, after two whole years, it was time for another team-up.

As Dash grabbed Phantom’s rain-slick, icy-cold shoulders to turn him over, he did not feel excited about the prospect at all; rather, he felt sick to his stomach.

Phantom weighed basically nothing. It was the easiest thing in the world to roll him onto his back, and Dash half-expected the ghost to dissolve into nothing in his fingers. Once he was on his back, Phantom’s head lolled against Dash’s knees. His eyes were open, dull green rather than the bright, vivid neon they should have been, staring blankly ahead at nothing. Dash saw trails of some silvery moisture coming out of the corners of his eyes, mingling with the rain, and he realized that they were ectoplasmic tears.

“Phantom…?” he whispered. Phantom did nothing to indicate he had heard Dash. The muscles in his face hung slack, and he wasn’t breathing - shit, he wasn’t breathing! But did ghosts even need to breathe? Did they even have lungs?

Could they die?

“Calm the fuck down, Baxter,” he told himself. “He’s not dead. He can’t be. He’s just hurt bad, real bad.” He glanced over Phantom’s body, looking for the injury that had put his hero in such a terrible state. What he saw were six small holes in his jumpsuit, in pairs, two on his right shoulder, two on his stomach, two on his lower left leg, all oozing a sickly green substance. Now that he looked more closely, Dash noticed veins of the same color, branching under the skin on Phantom’s neck where it rose out of the collar of his jumpsuit, curling over his jawline towards his cheeks like emerald lightning bolts.

“What the…” Dash murmured. Then it hit him. Phantom had been fighting a spider. These were spider bites.

Without thinking, Dash reached out his right hand and touched the green stuff oozing from Phantom’s shoulder, just above his collarbone. Immediately he recoiled - it felt like it had stung him! And it kept stinging him, burning him as if he had stuck his fingers into a vat of acid. Dash stared at his fingers in horror. His forefinger and middle finger had two small drops of venom on their tips, and even as he watched, it absorbed into his skin, snaking down through his fingers in bright green lightning bolts of poison.

Dash screamed, kicking away from Phantom, staring at his burning hand. The venom crept down his fingers, into his palm, where finally the green veins tapered to nothing. The sensation of burning sunk into a deep cold, and then into complete numbness. Dash tried to move his fingers; his thumb, ring finger, and pinkie only twitched, and the two that had touched the poison would not respond at all. The muscles in his wrist and at the base of his thumb ached dully. Turning his hand over, Dash saw more lightning bolts pulsing on the back of his hand.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” What had just happened? What was he supposed to do with this?

His eyes were back on Phantom. Whatever had just gotten on Dash’s fingertips, Phantom was full of it. No wonder he wasn’t moving. The dude needed help.

Dash clambered back to his feet, careful of his right hand. He opened the back door of his car, then turned around and, with extreme caution to avoid touching the spider venom again, lifted Phantom into his arms. One arm under the ghost’s knees, one under his back, Dash carried Phantom to his car and gently laid him in the backseat. The weakness of Phantom’s aura was even more apparent in the darkness inside the car.

Dash slammed the door shut and climbed back into the driver’s seat. His Ghost Spotter’s app went off again. Thinking that there might be another ghost around, Dash checked the message and scowled.

3:08 - Phantom abducted by strange black vehicle. Probably the feds. Good luck, ghost boy. #IRememberEmber58

Dash had no clue where IRememberEmber58 was watching the library from. Regardless, he rolled down the window, stuck his hand out, and flipped the dweeb off.

Dash put his right hand over the gearshift but could not clutch it to put the car in drive. Awkwardly, he used his left hand to shift gears. Driving home, his right hand was hooked in the steering wheel at the wrist to help in steering as much as possible. He sure hoped the numbness wasn’t permanent. That was his throwing hand.

On the way back to his house - and was that really the best place to take Phantom but he couldn’t go to a hospital and the Fentons wanted to gut him so screw it Dash’s house was as good a place as any - Dash kept an eye on Phantom in the back seat. There was no outward change in his condition, which could have been good or bad for all Dash knew. The green venom leaking from the bites and glowing under his skin was the brightest thing about the ghost, who could almost be mistaken for human at this point.

Dash speeded all the way home, and it still took too long. As soon as his car was on the curb, Dash cut the engine, leapt out of the vehicle, and got Phantom out of the backseat. He ran with the ghost, who couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds, up the driveway to the front door. Dash had to shift Phantom, drape him on his stomach over Dash’s shoulder, so that he could get his key out and get the door open. Once they were inside, Dash carried Phantom up the stairs, praying to God that his parents didn’t choose now to wake up.

At the top of the stairs, Dash began to feel a biting pain in his right shoulder, underneath where Phantom was laying on top of him. Clenching his teeth against an expletive, Dash hurried down the hall, into his bedroom, to the bathroom attachment. He shut the door, turned on the light, and hurriedly deposited Phantom in the bathtub. Stepping back to the counter, Dash looked in the mirror and was horrified to see that some of the venom from Phantom’s stomach had seeped into his hoodie. Crying out, he frantically yanked the hoodie off and threw it into the corner.

Turning back to the mirror, Dash watched three small fireworks of ectoplasmic venom sparking across his right shoulder. The bitter cold sensation sank deep into his muscles, and by the time the numbness set in, Dash was not surprised to find that he couldn’t lift his arm. With his hand already out of commission, the only thing he could do was bend his arm, weakly, at the elbow.

Dash gripped the countertop with his left hand and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the cool surface of the mirror. Things were fucked, and he knew it. His hero was laying in his bathtub, possibly dead. Dash himself had been poisoned by a giant ectoplasmic spider he hadn’t even seen, and who knew what kind of messed up shit this was going to do to him?

He had no idea how to help either of them. He was just Dash Baxter, high school quarterback. He wasn’t smart enough to be useful to anyone in an emergency, not even himself.

He forced himself to take several deep breaths. He reminded himself that he might not have been the best help for Phantom, but he was the only help the hero had. Dash had to do something. For all the times Phantom had saved his life and the lives of everyone in Amity Park, he had to do something.

Not looking at Phantom - not yet - Dash went back into his bedroom. He dug around in his closet until he found the lime green raincoat his grandma had bought for him on his last birthday, which was so ugly that he had never worn it. Awkwardly, he shrugged it on, using his left hand to grab his right and drag the right arm into a sleeve. Then he went back downstairs into the kitchen, where he grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink that his mom used to wash dishes. He hoped that this would be enough.

Back upstairs in the bathroom, wearing the raincoat and rubber gloves, Dash finally looked at Phantom in the tub. The ghost looked even worse under the bright LED lighting. His glow was essentially nonexistent, his normally tanned complexion was sallow, and his dulled green eyes continued to stare into nothingness. Phantom’s white hair was plastered to his head with the moisture from outside, and his suit was wet with water and smears of toxic venom.

Dash had to get the venom out of Phantom. The question was - how?

Dash sat down cautiously on the edge of the tub. With his left hand, he pushed Phantom into a more comfortable position, sitting propped against one end of the basin. He grabbed the strap of the Fenton Thermos and pulled it over Phantom’s head before setting the surprisingly heavy contraption on the floor behind the toilet; Dash knew what was inside, and he wasn’t about to unleash a house-sized spider monster because he accidentally kicked the thing.

Turning back to Phantom, he experimentally touched some of the venom on Phantom’s leg with his glove, half expecting the ectoplasm to eat through the material. It didn’t, and Dash heaved a sigh of relief.

Using his left hand, Dash tried pinching the skin and muscles of Phantom’s shoulder to squeeze some of the poison out, but between the rubber of his glove and the slick material of Phantom’s jumpsuit, it was impossible to get a hold. Really, the jumpsuit needed to go.

Dash flushed red at the thought. Was he really sitting here, thinking about undressing his hero…? His eyes found the little zipper at the top of the neck, and Dash gulped. A second later, he was berating himself. “You’re being an idiot. Just take the damn suit off so you can help him.” He reached out, grabbed the zipper, and pulled.

Dash soon discovered it was a chore and a half to use one hand to undress another guy who was completely limp, and any excitement he might have felt at the task quickly evaporated. It was several minutes before Dash had Phantom out of his gloves, boots, and jumpsuit, which he piled in a heap on the floor next to the tub, leaving Phantom in nothing but his white undies.

Like the patterning on Phantom’s neck, the rest of his body was covered in zigzagging bolts of pulsing emerald poison, especially concentrated around the three weeping bite wounds. Dash felt sick looking at it, and he hoped Phantom wasn’t conscious underneath that blank expression.

Dash turned on the bathtub faucet and ran the water until it was lukewarm. Phantom showed no reaction to the liquid sloshing around his legs, but Dash had not expected him to. Dash figured room temperature was the best bet - he didn’t want to burn the ghost, but he didn’t think cold water would be good for someone with spider bites, even if ghosts were naturally cold. Thinking about that, Dash rinsed his left glove in the faucet and then used his teeth to tug it off of his hand. He then laid the back of his hand against Phantom’s forehead.

It was warm. Human warm. Dash had been grabbed by enough ghosts in his life to know that Phantom should have felt as cool as the inside of a freezer. Phantom’s heat now must have been the ghostly equivalent of a fever.

On second thought, Dash cut the heat to the faucet entirely.

He used his teeth to pull his glove back on, grabbed a clean towel from under the sink, took down the showerhead, and turned the hose on. Dash used the showerhead to rinse the globs of venom from Phantom’s wounds. Then he set the hose down near the drain and began pinching the punctures, starting with the ones on Phantom’s shoulder. Venom ran from them freely, running in viscous rivulets over Phantom’s chest. Dash stopped every few seconds to hose Phantom off, sending the toxic - probably radioactive - ectoplasm down the drain to be carried far away from the Baxter home.

Dash pushed against the wound until he was sure Phantom would have bruises, and it kept offering him venom. It was not until several minutes later when the green liquid oozing from the wound lost its visceral feeling of venom and turned into a much more neutral shade of green. It was the strangest thing. The two types of ectoplasm - the spider venom and Phantom’s ‘blood’ - were almost identical to the naked eye. Dash only knew that the venom had turned to ectoplasmic lifeblood when his gut stopped screaming at him about the wrongness of the liquid he was seeing.

Dash repeated this process on the other two punctures. By the time he finished, Dash noticed that some of the bolts of venom across Phantom’s skin had begun to lose their intensity. That was good. Dash had actually been able to do something.

He rinsed Phantom off one last time from head to feet and then turned off the water. Dash patted Phantom dry the best he could considering the ghost was sitting in a damp tub in soaked underwear. Tossing aside the towel with the rest of the discarded clothing, Dash bent down, slid his left arm under Phantom’s back, managed to hook his right arm under the ghost’s legs, and lifted him out of the tub. He was thankful that Phantom weighed next to nothing, otherwise his mostly paralyzed right arm would not have been able to support his weight.

Dash carried Phantom back to his bedroom and laid Phantom in his bed. The covers were already thrown back from when Dash had gotten his Ghost Spotters alert an hour earlier. Complexion drained, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, hair damp, veins etched in poison - Dash’s hero looked so small and helpless. It made Dash want to hold him. Either that, or cry.

He did neither. Instead, he stripped off his gloves and raincoat, which he put in the bathroom with the rest of the contaminated articles of clothing. He went back to his closet and pulled out a pair of pajamas from the bottom of a bin. They were his favorite pair from when he was in junior high but had no longer fit him once he got taller and bulked up in high school. Warm red flannel, patterned with brown teddy bears wearing cozy-looking scarves - the only person outside of his family who had seen these was Kwan, who was sworn to secrecy. But they had been the best, especially during the winter or when Dash had been sick, the times when it was important to feel comfortable. They would probably fit Phantom.

Averting his eyes, feeling his face burning, Dash peeled Phantom’s soaked underwear off, dropped them on the carpet, and immediately put the ghost boy’s legs in his red flannel pajama pants. The hero’s modesty preserved, Dash pinched the underwear between two of his fingers, took them to the bathroom, and hung them over the shower curtain rail to dry. They hung there innocuously, glowing faintly - ghost undies.

Back in his bedroom, Dash wrestled Phantom’s upper half into the pajama top. His estimate had been mostly right - Phantom was a little too tall and his arms too long for the pajamas, by about an inch, but otherwise the pjs fit him. Phantom was pretty small.

The veins of venom on the ghost boy’s face had retreated past his jawline and were not glowing so fiercely. Now that the rest of the ones on his body were hidden from sight, he looked a lot better, although it was strange to see the hero wearing Dash’s favorite childhood pajamas, laying in his bed. A strange flutter tickled in Dash’s stomach and flitted into his heart. He was blushing again.

Gingerly, Dash pulled the blankets over Phantom up to his chin and tucked them around him. Even more gingerly, trying not to draw comparisons between this paralyzed ghost and a dead body, Dash touched two fingers to Phantom’s eyelids and closed them. If - no, when Phantom recovered from the spider poison, it wouldn’t hurt him to get a few hours of sleep… assuming ghosts slept.

Dash preemptively texted his parents, letting them know that he was sick and would be staying home from school that day. He hadn’t had a sick day since last school year, so he knew they would take him at his word. To be safe, he locked his bedroom door.

He pulled his computer chair over to the side of the bed and slumped into it. His numb right arm lay in his lap, paralyzed, the green lightning bolts on his hand as harsh and virulent as when they first appeared. He tried not to think about it. Instead, he sat up, determined to watch over his hero through the rest of the night.

-----

Part 2 -->

#tfc writes #danny phantom #dash baxter #pre-swagger-bishie #protective!dash #injured danny #here be spiders

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stresseddepressed-student · 3 years

Text

Chapter Nine:

Unfortunately, Potter was powerful and uncontrolled so his magic refused to keep itself contained. Stupid dumbass idiot who didn’t know how to control himself.

“Potter, your presence is messing with the delicate potion in the cauldron, please remove yourself.” Draco tried his best to keep his voice level, to be bigger than him, to not sink down to his level. He really didn’t want any conflict with Potter this year. It would be difficult enough without Potter Problems.

He finished mincing the wings of the Hercules beetle, wincing as he eyed the poor bastard who was still crawling around his tank. Now that he was wingless, his only purpose would be to breed one last time and then be tossed into a Fortis Invigorate potion. Draco felt a lot like the beetle, he had no life other than to be used and trapped in a glass tank. He then minced the Aconite, admiring the purple flakes created as he cut.

He cast a discreet tempus, 3:00, damn it, it's been 3 hours since he started the potion. If he was going to be successful in any way, he needed to put the wings and flakes in now. He gracefully turned, holding the cutting board in one hand and the knife in the other. He kept his gaze on the cauldron, refusing to spare Potter a glance, slowly he scraped the ingredients bit by bit. Wolfsbane was particularly difficult and if he wanted to get this right, he would need to be patient.

“What are you making?” Potter insisted, coming up closer.

Draco looked up into his eyes, barely biting his tongue at the disgust in the other boy's eyes. He glanced down, tracing the sweat and water that left trails on his brown torso and down into his pants. His trousers were hanging perversely on his hips, heavy with exertion and water. Draco could see the other boy's hip bones, the defined muscles eating away his stomach, rounded strong pecs. And his shoulders, Draco was sure that Potter could probably carry him easily and Draco was quite muscle-laden himself. His legs would definitely help him, they were thick, strong, the kind of thigh perfect for spreading his-

Draco turned away, thanking his father for the years of training in keeping his emotions out of his voice, “I don’t answer to you, Potter. Please, escort yourself to the showers as you are in fact messing with a highly volatile potion. Thank you.”

He went back to the book, listening to Potter's steps as he came closer. He inhaled sharply, the smell of rain and musk robbing him of his senses.

Draco didn’t dare turn as Potter whispered in his ear, his spine-tingling, “you’re up to something Malfoy and I’m going to find out. I’m going to figure you out and when I do, I’ll ruin you.”

You already have.

Potter stepped back and Draco could practically hear the sneer painting on his full lips. Draco finally looked up as Potter walked away, burying a groan at the sight of his muscled back and broad shoulders. He looked like a man. His trousers were barely being held up by the curve or his arse, Draco could see his pants peeking out, darkened by sweat and water. Draco knew he was absolutely fucked if this was his reaction to Potter after working out. Draco hadn’t missed how tight his pants looked around his front, Draco resisted the urge to lick his lips.

Merlin.

He felt like a pervert, he needed to get his mind out of the gutter and focused back on the potion before him. He wanted to figure out a way to make the potion better in every way-- taste, texture, effectiveness, cost of production-- anything to fix the things he broke.

Turning the flame off, he carefully poured the potion into the vials, closing them so they could ferment. They should be done by the next full moon so he had about a month or so before it had to be perfect. He wasn’t sure who would accept his potion but he wanted to perfect it before he showed it to Minerva. He rolled his back, stretching the aching muscles as he leaned over the book.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Draco whirled around, his mother's wand discreetly tucked by his side-- poised to strike. He relaxed once he recognized the dirty blonde hair and shy smile-- Astoria Greengrass.

He relaxed his mouth into a subdued smile, only the barest hint of teeth peeking through. “Astoria,” he acknowledged, nodding respectfully.

Her smile curved even more, a pretty red thing that for anyone else would have signaled something seductive, but Draco was so gay that the promise held in her lips did nothing to excite him. “Draco, how are you?”

Still, it's a lot easier to get information from a distracted person and there had to be a reason Astoria was here. He hoped she wasn't here for some nefarious purpose but soon remembered her family played a minimal role in the war, far less so than his friends' families.

He crossed his arms, flexing purposefully to see if her eyes followed the movement. They did. “I am well. Or as well as I can be considering my circumstances. And you? How is your sister?”

Her nostrils flared, once, then twice. The slightest expansion of the curve of her nose that promptly settled back into its natural state. “She is well, the climate agrees with her. Theodore, Tracy, and Millicent are there as well.”

“Yes I heard, Theodore wished to be here, but he found his family in Belgium much more amenable to him being in France than Scotland.”

“England,” she corrected, her smile smaller than before. “We’re in England.”

“Only for those who haven't learned otherwise.”

She turned her head away from him, her focus instead on the cauldron glowing purple with the remnants of his work. He decided to interrupt her before she asked any more questions.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He let one of the corners of his lips tug upward, his eyes fastened on her-- everything in his posture and countenance used to flirt with her.

She lifted her chin, tilting her head to one side to expose her neck. “What question?” she demurred.

He stepped closer, “how are you?”

“I am better now that I’m here.” She stepped back and he followed her until they were walking side by side out of the classroom.

“Here in Hogwarts or here right now?” He guided her away from the empty lab room, walking towards the Slytherin dormitories.

She peered up at him through her dark lashes, “that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He chuckled, a gravelly sound he used when he wanted to sway his victim or seduce them, “well now I’m intrigued by the mystery you present.”

She murmured the common room password, and let him escort her through the dark passage. He tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, teasing her lightly about spiders and snakes, all the things girls liked to be teased about. It felt a bit surreal if he was being honest, to be flirting and walking through the shadowy corridor like before. Usually Pansy would be the one to have her hand tucked into his elbow, or Blaise, or Theo; Greg and Vincent bumbling happily behind him, messing with his hair, or ticking him just to get a rise out of him. It felt so much like before that Draco's chest hurt a bit, a gentle persistent pressure growing exponentially with each step he took. Finally, they emerged into the softly lit common room although it was oddly packed to the brim.

Astoria guided him to the front where Blaise, Pansy, and Slughorn stood.

“I- I don’t understand? What’s going on?” Draco whispered urgently to Astoria, taking in his friend's smug looks.

Pansy glanced at him before settling her attention on Astoria, “so?”

Astoria pouted, “he did everything you said he would.”

Draco glanced around, bewildered. Blaise was softly giggling, patting Pansy on the back.

Astoria leaned on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek, patting him gently, “thanks for going along, love.”

Pansy grabbed his arm and dragged him to stand next to her, “shut up and I'll explain later,” she hissed, keeping her stiff smile pasted on her face. She was still mad it seemed.

Slughorn stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Students, new and old, welcome to Slytherin, your new home. Today we must assign the student advisors, of course, I am always available to the public! I make a point to keep my door open and I'm actually writing a book on teaching principles everyone could apply to their everyday relationships, I’m sure it will be a bestseller so if you want to pre-order your copy be sure to Owl me. An open door rule isn’t the only policy I will write about in fact I-”

Blaise cleared his throat, flashing his eyes at a startled Slughorn.

“Er- right! Today we will elect from these three. Please, er, raise your hand if you would like Pansy Parkinson as an advisor.”

Several murmurs could be heard and Pansy rolled her shoulders nervously. No one was raising their hands and Draco could feel her disappointment.

Draco swallowed his pride, stepping forward, “Professor, If I may?” At Slughorn's nod, he began to address the room, “some of you do not know Pansy, I believe it would be beneficial to have a few testimonies in regards to her and Blaise so that the newcomers may have an accurate picture of them. I would like to go first.”

Slughorn clapped his back, “right you are m’boy. Excellent Idea, have you been reading my early drafts?”

Draco nodded tightly, barely concealing a snicker. He took a deep breath before speaking once more, “Pansy happens to be my best friend and I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about her from different people. But I would like to tell you she is the most generous person. She will offer you her time, her talent, her knowledge so that you can succeed. More than anything else, she cares about the success of Slytherin as a whole, and if you’re lucky to be her friend, she cares about your personal success. She’s third in our class right behind Hermione Granger and me. She is passionate about her work and a good teacher. Blaise is also my best friend, he’s understanding, he sees you even when you cannot see yourself. And If you find yourself in a snit, he’s the best person to help you get out of it.”

Mitch Creevy stepped forward, looking around nervously, “I'm the first Slytherin in my family, all my cousins are in Gryffindor and neither Draco nor Pansy nor Blaise made me feel any different. Pansy protected me when the Carrows were asking about my bloodline.”

Draco turned back towards his best friends, returning Pansy’s watery smile. Hopefully, this would make her forgive him and see that everything he did was for her good.

Several other people spoke up, each other saying kind things about Pansy and Blaise. Draco tried to ignore the prick in his conscious about the lack of kind words directed at him.

That was until Astoria stepped forward again, her posture relaxed and strong, “I understand many of you are avoiding the controversy of Draco Malfoy but we must not forget all that he’s done for us. He showed us how to fake curses and hexes or lower the intensity when we were forced to attack our fellow classmates. He fought in the war against the Dark Lord-”

“After he let them in!” retorted a student. A chorus of agreements and Draco looked down at his feet, it wasn’t like he could contest. He had done that and much more.

“But he fought even against his father.”

“Astoria!” Pansy hissed, her mouth settling into a harsh line.

it was becoming hard to breathe for Draco, buried his nails into his palm to ground himself. It was for naught, if Astoria didn't stop soon, he was going to have a full-blown panic attack.

“Who do you think put every single captured death eater in prison, who provided the evidence? He was ra-”

“Astoria!” Blaise warned, starting towards her, his eyes flashing gold. Draco felt sick, he didn’t want his secrets uncovered, everything he did, his shame, uncovered. He felt naked under the disgusted stares.

Astoria took a deep breath, “today, he went to his lab to work on a Wolfsbane because he knew that many students, Slytherin or other, could not afford good quality Wolfsbane. He is the only reason Goyle passed his classes, he tutored every single Slytherin falling behind. He is more than his name. I urge you to consider him.”

Mercifully, she didn’t mention Vincent. Draco didn’t think he could handle her mentioning his dead friend, someone rotting in the ground because of him.

Astoria turned towards him, her mouth pinched tightly, she didn’t say sorry, she didn’t like to lie. And even though Draco was close to tears, he admired her tenacity, her passion, her intelligence; he privately thought to himself that she would make a better teacher than Slughorn. She was almost at his level in potions but she had more of an inclination towards being an Auror than anything else. Pity. She had some inane belief she could reform it. She certainly was more ambitious than her sister.

Slughorn looked around nervously, his fingers twitching as the muttering increased. “Have we come to a decision?” he tried.

Leon Moon, the first year from earlier, stepped forward; his shaggy auburn hair reminiscent of Remus Lupin. “Is it true that you’re making wolfsbane for everybody?” he demanded, his tiny figure puffed up.

Draco buried his shock at seeing a miniature version of his old teacher. He nodded, clearing his throat before giving the fierce boy a resounding yes.

Moon glanced around, looking at his fellow first-years to see if they had any objections, “We would like Draco to be our advisor, and Pansy too.”

Everyone agreed with the little boy, save for a few people who grumbled that Blaise should be one of the advisors. Draco snorted, every single one had been one of Blaise's conquests.

Pansy stepped forward, “there can be three advisors. It was more of a matter of choosing who you didn’t want.”

Blaise rubbed his neck, “that’s alright Pansy. I don’t really want the responsibility, but I’m happy to help you guys out along with the 7th years.”

Steeled by everyone's vote of confidence and the trust in her eyes, Draco stepped forward again. “Then it’s settled,” Draco said, his voice clear and determined. “Pansy Parkinson and I will be your advisors. Professor Slughorn, are you prepared for a swearing ceremony?” Draco didn't even know why he asked, the man definitely didn't understand the sort of commitment Slytherin had towards each other.

Draco rolled his eyes as Slughorn babbled, snapping his fingers to request Mipsy.

Mipsy arrived with a pop and several first years gave a surprised yelp. She punched her fist onto her hips, looking up at him expectantly, “Yes Master Draco?”

“You can’t have a personal elf apparate in and out of Hogwarts wards!” Slughorn fretted, his chest puffing as he tried to assert his dominance. What he didn’t realize was that Draco took responsibility seriously, took vows seriously, and this was both. Slughorn didn’t even want to be the head of house for Slytherin.

Mipsy answered him before Draco could, “I work in kitchens, missus Minnie allow me to work by Master Draco.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you, darling. We’re going to do a blood oath, do you mind notarizing?”

“Elves cannot notarize!” Slughorn complained. Oddly enough, he had no qualms about performing a blood oath, something considered dark magic but he had a problem with Elves becoming Notaries. Typical.

“Certainly Master. Raise you's hand.”

Both he and Pansy raised their right hands, Draco remembered that he was mostly naked save for his shirt and he tucked his left arm tightly into his side. Though it was useless, a lot of people probably saw his mark.

“Speak vows now.”

Pansy went first, “I Pansy Minato Parkinson, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” She tapped her wand against her palm and a sliver of blood fell onto the stone floor. The stone glowed green before absorbing the blood and returning to its natural gray.

Draco stepped forward, his wand poised, “I Draco Lucius Siran Malfoy-Black, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” He pressed the wand against his palm, shivering under the surge of magic slicing his skin. The blood dripped down his wand, spiraling around the natural grain of the dark brown wood, the single drop falling into the stone, glowing a blinding silver that lasted a lot longer than Pansy’s had.

He could feel his peers' eyes on him and titled his chin up, not meeting anyone's eyes. He stood back with Pansy and Blaise as the group dispersed, his mouth tight. “Mate I-”

He shook his head, dispelling the apology he knew was to come, his arms clasped behind his back to hide his mark.

Leon came forward, his dark blue eyes glancing wildly around. He coughed and sidled up next to Draco, “Mr. Malfoy sir,-”

“Draco is quite alright.”

The boy flushed and nodded, “I was wondering, I have been, that is, I was wondering if you had finished the potion, I, well I-”

Draco placed a hand on the small boy's shoulder, crouching down slightly, “Leon, you are a smart brave boy, and I'm not going to hurt you no matter how scary I look. It’s okay to ask for things.”

Leon, flushed, scowling, “I'm not a baby, don’t patronize me, I know I can ask for things. This is a secret thing and I've never told anybody else. I was wondering if you could help me during my-” he lowered his voice and leaned closer, “transformations.”

Draco’s smile faltered, the spunky kid was so young, too young to have to be afflicted with this. He nodded, “the night before your transformation, meet me at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

The kid flashed him a smile, the ones that come easy when you're smaller no matter what’s happening around you. Draco's eyes burned, visions flashing of the small boy before him losing that smile because of the life ahead of him, of the boy becoming like Lavender. Draco stepped away, casting a sonorous so that everybody in the dorms could hear him, “If you require assistance for your transformation, werewolf or other, please meet me the night before the full moon in the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

Pansy’s hand moved towards him but he walked too quickly out of the common room for her to catch him. He ran down the corridor, down the hallway, back to his lab, breathless. He stumbled over the cauldron and retched, bile and vomit spewing from his mouth into the cast-iron cauldron. His yellow vomit smelled so horrible mixed with the wolfsbane, and he vomited even more. A hand found its way onto his back, rubbing soothingly up and down his spine. Smaller hands combed back his hair, holding the fringe away from his sweaty face.

“He’s so young!” he cried to Pansy and Blaise. “He hasn’t lived yet and his life is ruined.”

“It's not ruined,” Pansy answered sharply, “it's not. And even if it was, it’s not your fault.”

He sobbed into the cauldron, everything from him mixing in there, his potion, his bile, his tears, his sweat-- all of it combining to present a reflection of him.

Blaise pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe his mouth and neck, banishing it with a shudder “Come on love, let's go to bed.”

Draco shook his head, dazed, “no, I’ve got to clean up first or Minnie won’t let me back here.”

“Minnie?” mouthed Pansy to Blaise who only shrugged.

Draco summoned a low dose pepper-up charm from his stock already organized in the storage room adjoined to the lab. He gagged as he swallowed the spicy concoction. Shaking his head to clear away the haze of guilt, sickness, and shame.

He conjured a scrub and some soap in a bucket. Pansy summoned another bucket and he hefted the cauldron up to pour the remaining mixture into the spare bucket. Blaise banished the bubbling bucket once it was full and Draco set the cauldron down again. Pansy whistled at his flexed muscles and he threw some soap at her playfully.

He snapped his finger and music played, lately Pansy had gotten them into Spice Girls and oddly enough, an androgynous band named Eurythmics. Wannabe’s poppy beat echoed around the room and Blaise danced comically around the room, swaying his hips and thrusting in the air every so often. He moved his hips as he scrubbed the Cauldron, humming the lyrics under his breath. None of them noticed when the door opened and Neville barreled out of the greenhouse into the lab.

“Uh-” Neville stammered, eyes wide.

Draco paused mid-gyration to stare at the blubbering boy.

“I’m gonna go-” Neville mumbled, running out of the room, leaving a trail of dirt behind him.

“Do you think he-”

“Did you see his face?!”

Blaise and Pansy both hollered at the same time, cutting Draco off. Draco grunted, drawing the attention of his two friends who promptly rolled their eyes at his pinched mouth. He cast a scourgify on the mud tracks, charming a mop to follow Neville’s path.

“Oh, will you wipe off that pinched ferret expression you’ve got!” Blaise called, slapping his bum as he passed by.

Pansy cackled, bent over in exaggerated laughter. “You do look a bit like a ferret, love,” she sighed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Draco grunted, wiping his sweaty brow. “Do you think he saw me, so…”

“Human?”

Draco glared at Blaise, who raised his hands in mock surrender. “Disheveled, unprofessional, inelegant, un-Malfoy," he corrected.

Pansy ignored him as she shucked her shirt, though there wasn’t a single drop of sweat on her back or neck. She rolled her bony shoulder as she conjured a scrub and a mop. Casting an Augementi, she started working on the walls, throwing the mop to a pouting Blaise. Draco was at once, filled with relief that his friends, his posh wanker friends, were helping him with the menial task of cleaning.

Pansy didn’t turn away from the wall as she spoke, casting several charms at other conjured scrubs to reach the places she could, “Isn’t that the point, Draco? To be un-Malfoy. To be yourself? Look at what I'm doing! I’m bloody scrubbing the wall, I would have never done that years ago!”

Blaise passed the mop between his hands, “I know you think nobody will believe the person you’ve become, that you’re good, but you don’t help when you shut people out and continue to put up wards around yourself.”

Draco wiped the cauldron down, carefully oiling it to preserve its integrity. “What would you have me do? Scream at anything and everything that I’ve changed, that I’m not a blood purist?! What would you have me say?! “Hey guys, I know you lost a brother, son, daughter, father, mother, friend-- people! But! Guess what?! I’m not a bad guy anymore, see I’m good, I can even shake your hand and I won’t break out in hives!” Yeah, that’s a great idea guys, ” Draco scoffed.

Pansy marched over, grabbing his chin gently with her soft soapy hands, “that’s exactly what you need to do because that is exactly who you are.”

He turned away, his voice weak and resigned, “and if I’m not. What do I do if I'm the same exact person as before?”

Blaise strode to him, cradling the side of his face in his hand, pressing his forehead against Dracos’, “You are. You are good. You deserve good things. You are good.”

Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips against the boy, wanting to have the maker of his affirmation breathing those words into him. There was something venerating about this kiss, about the tenderness of their lips against each other. But too soon did Blaise pull away, looking at him regretfully, “this isn’t what you want.” Draco whimpered and Blaise thumbed his temple, “ it’s okay, I won't take the words away, they’re yours, they're who you are.”

Pansy pulled him off, “go to bed with Blaise, I’ll meet you later after I finish here.”

“No, no I've got this,” Draco objected, pulling his wand out. He conjured more scrubs, mops, and dusters, easily manipulating them to clean the entire room. It was exhaustive on his magical core, especially after the day he just had, but he needed this lab to be spotless for the plan formulating in his mind. With a just wiggle of his fingers, he took over the scrubs Pansy had been manning and the mop in Blaise's hand. Pansy and Blaise gawped at him and a rush of pride swept through him. He walked over the cauldron, hoisting it up to flip it over, he wasn’t able to carry it with just his own human muscles. Sighing, he focused his remaining magic on lifting all of the spare cauldrons and organizing them on the newly cleaned floor. He was just about to set them down when his chest began to ache, a sharp digging sensation that made him stumble back. Pansy and Blaise rushed forward, grasping his sides as keeled over. Thankfully, the very expensive cauldrons were too close to the ground to have any resounding impact.

Blaise whipped out his wand, shouting “Finite Incantatem!” with no success. Dracos magic was too strong for him to make the dizzying cleaning supplies stop dancing around the room.

Pansy tapped Dracos cheek hard, “Draco, stop the spell. It’s hurting you, stop the spell!”

He groaned, his head rolling to one side. With all the strength he could muster, he whispered the spell, his wand falling limply from his hand.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #hp fandom #draco x harry #good draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #bottom draco malfoy #redeemed draco #hermione granger #ron weasley #neville longbottom #top harry #bottom draco #ao3 fanfic #drarry ao3 #drarryfics

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male-reader-requests · 3 years

Text

City Lights

Requested by: funk-lil-death-omen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x M!Reader

Word count:1,847

Warnings: uhhh, trigger warning I guess. I don't really know how those go but this does kinda talk about panic attack/ptsd stuff. I don't know much about it, did a smidge of research but still, I apologize if this is kinda ass.

This situation was... well shit to say the least.

The entire compound was on lockdown, every single protective measure Tony had put in place was active and it was all because a cybernetically enhanced kid had gotten freaked out.

Well, kid wasn't the right term. (M/N) was old enough to take care of himself, and he did well. (M/N) was sort of a lone wolf of sorts, going off on long missions that normally took months to years, he was an enigma, no one knew much about him.

Well, no one knew much about him besides Bucky. Bucky had brought (M/N) with him when he'd moved to the compound, brought him to do everything pretty much. (M/N) hated other people and was very paranoid about everything.

That should have been a red flag to the rest of the team, but they'd written it off. Paranoia when in an area they knew was safe was not a sign of a healthy mind, the nightmares and the defensiveness weren't either but that had also been written off. Everyone in the compound had their issues and they'd thought that was the extent of (M/N)'s.

Unfortunately their writing off had lead to the situation at hand.

It had started out pretty normal, a normal afternoon where the majority of the compound was actually there instead of out on missions. Someone, Bucky can't really remember who, had been cooking lunch with (M/N) hovering behind them. Whoever it had been hadn't minded, asking him to grab things from the fridge and cupboards, showing him how to do certain things.

Bucky had seen this a couple of times, where he'd get very into whatever he was learning and basically forget about the real world so he hadn't seen the Spider kid come in with some game console. Bucky knew the kid hadn't meant to do it, knew that this would literally eat the kid from the inside out for the rest of his life but when he loaded up some game and the gunfire started to play through the speakers (M/N) blanked out and whatever soldier he had once been came into existence.

He knew what would happen, he'd seen this a few times before also, but it was never a pleasant experience. Bucky watched in horror as he pushed someone into the stove and pulled the gun from his belt up. The entire common area was falling into chaos.

Bucky dropped down, he knew that whatever the soldier in (M/N) was would recognize him, either as Bucky or as Winter neither would be good.

A shot fired out, landing where Bucky's head had once been, and then he was running. (M/N) would find somewhere high up, somewhere with a vantage point that he couldn't escape from, somewhere that if he felt it was necessary he could throw himself from.

Bucky was running after him the best that he could, but (M/N) was fast and he knew to lag behind a bit. It never took (M/N) long to come down, but it was a drop, he'd breakdown and he wouldn't be a hazard to others but he would be a hazard to himself. He had to stay behind him to make sure that he hit that drop instead of fighting against it.

He was safe here, but no matter how much that was proved to him he couldn't seem to accept it.

In all honesty, Bucky felt that he should have seen this coming. He'd known (M/N) the longest, knew him the best out of everyone there and he loved the other male. He should have noticed the sign of this creeping up, he knew the signs, he knew the tells and now all he could do was hope to be enough.

(M/N) hadn't slept in 3 days and his emotions seemed to dull a bit, which was unfortunately normal, but he'd been asking about the weather. He only asked about the weather to see if it would rain and storm and that meant he was stressed, that he was falling, and felt that he didn't have anything to hold onto.

It meant that he felt he was alone, that Bucky hadn't been there for him.

It was storming now, an odd sort of irony that he hated. It was the sort of irony to fit those stupid love novels that Stevie would read or to match his emotion but no matter how fitting he hated it.

(M/N) loved it though. He loved the rain and the thunder and the lightning, he loved it out an inborn issue with life itself.

(M/N) grew up in some tiny ass place where the motto was quite literally "Kill or be Killed". The town was dark and fucked and in all technical terms cannibalistic thanks to Hydra fucking with them. (M/N) loved the rain because it muffled everything, made hunting down others easier when you let yourself become a creature of the night.

And he looked every bit the part.

Standing on the roof with his face to the sky (M/N) stood, soaked to the bone but still beside his breathing. His (H/C) hair was plastered to his face, his shirt and pants the same but his eyes were horribly bright against the dark sky, a shining shade of (E/C) brought on by mutated genes.

He was dressed in only black, shirt stolen from Bucky's side of the closet and cargo pants, boots from when he was active in more than Avengers issues, and he still had the gun in his hand.

Lightning fell somewhere behind him and God he was beautiful, but as they stood there in silence (M/N)'s began to shake, his shoulders moving a sadly familiar fashion that tore at Bucky's heart.

He was whispering something, something he said to himself daily and Bucky knew it by heart and it broke him each morning as he listened to (M/N) utter the words to himself just to stay afloat, just to make it through the day.

"An unfair way to be taught is still a way to learn, and it is over," his voice shook, words slurred together as he struggled. "Whether they change or not is irrelevant. If you change is what you keep hold of."

Bucky watched as he took a deep breath, the gun clattering lightly as (M/N) began to shake in earnest. "You keep fighting," he cried, "Get mad if you must. Focus one what is ahead and step forward, for a life left in the same steps you have always been in is a life wasted."

"(M/N)", Bucky whispered, those bright eyes landing on him. The both of them were crying, Bucky quiet and trying his best to keep calm as (M/N) dropped, tears falling with the rain as he fell to his knees, the gun skidding across the roof.

This was the point in which Bucky would take over, the point in which he became the rock for (M/N) to lean on as the river started to rise around them.

Neither of them would make it out of the night with a good conscience, but that was fine. Bucky's job was to make sure that (M/N) was comfortable, to make are he would be taken care of, to make sure he would make it through the next 24 hours.

(M/N) never remembered these episodes, probably for the best with how much he cried during these, but he was always a mess. When Bucky got to him he fought at first. He fought against Bucky's hands as they tried to removed soaked hair from his eyes, fought against the jacket being pushed over his shoulders, against the arms wrapping around him to help him inside but he was tired. Soon he gave up, going limp and letting Bucky bring him to their room.

He let Bucky undress him, he let Bucky gently guide him into a bath and let Bucky get in with him. This was always the worst for the taller male, having to watch (M/N) practically be a doll to the world as his brain tried its best to forget things that only seemed to come up at the worst times.

The bath was hot and smelled faintly of some flower Bucky couldn't remember the name of, thanks to the bath bomb things Tony had been showing him. It was calm, and Bucky was slowly forcing himself to calm down, to relax. The more relaxed he himself was the easier it would be to get (M/N) to do the same.

He leaned back, metal arm across the edge with the flesh one curling (M/N) tight to his chest. He wanted to hold the (H/C) male, to cradle him much like one would to a child but he had to get (M/N) used to this, used to the touching again. It was slow progress, always was and always will be but Bucky'd do it over and over again just to see (M/N) happy and healthy.

Soon enough, which was actually quite a large stretch of time, Bucky had (M/N) curled against him, one arm over his shoulders with the other on his back. (M/N) had crawled into his lap, face shoved into his neck, and if this hadn't such a bad time Bucky probably would have laughed and joked about how (M/N) was more beast than man.

Unfortunately, this is how their night would go. They would sit in the bathtub well past the point of the water going cold, both of them shivering but refusing to get up or change the water. They would sit there until (M/N) was comfortable enough in his own skin for Bucky to get a towel for both of them and move them to the bed.

The room was also cold, so Bucky went about bundling (M/N) in blankets and turning the heater on, before joining the other male on the bed. His arm produced some heat, as any sort of mechanical thing will, but not much.

The shorter male protested lightly when Bucky started to unbundle him but calmed down soon enough when he situated the two of them together.

Bucky had his back to the headboard, (M/N) curled up on his side with his face shoved in his neck again, but there was strength coming back to his hands, his nails lightly digging in where he was gripping at Bucky's arms. It meant he was coming down, and that's all the Bucky ask for in all honesty.

He loved him, and that's all he needed.

#marvel x male reader #marvel #bucky barnes #sad #bucky barnes angst #angst #panic attack #ptsd mention #x male reader

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3701 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Things are happening!! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 6 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky stared at you with his mouth gaping open, stunned into silence at your question. His pause made you realize your mistake. Slapping your palm to your forehead made you cringe with embarrassment.

Quickly you corrected yourself with an awkward giggle. “I mean would you like to come out with me? Tomorrow night a few of us are gonna get together to celebrate,” you beamed.

“You got the internship?”

Bucky asked the question but the brightness of your eyes told him his answer before you bubbled with delight. His arms were around you in an instant, like a magnet that pulled you close to each other as he hugged you deeply.

The shock of his unexpected hug was not unwelcome as your own arms lifted up to wrap around him in return, keeping your bodies pressed together as you felt every little squeeze filled with unspoken pride. Turning your head brought you closer to the spice on his neck, inhaling the warmth that set every part of your body ablaze.

Suddenly you were very aware of Bucky, of the strong arms that encased your frame, of the lean muscle underneath your fingers as you gripped his back, of the firm stomach pressed against you. He whispered congratulations and the heat of his breath against your ear sent tingles down your spine. You broke away from the hug, smiling nervously as you reminded yourself Bucky was just a neighbor and friend, nothing more.

“Yeah, so tomorrow night if you’re free. We’re just going local for some drinks, like nine-ish.”

“Tell me where and I’ll be there,” he promised, flashing his teeth as his lips pulled into a smile.

You sat back on Wanda’s bed hanging your feet off the side, watching as she touched up the dark eyeliner that made her green eyes pop. You had met earlier for dinner near her apartment and were hanging out and catching up until it was time to head to the bar.

It had been longer than you cared to acknowledge since the last time you went out somewhere that didn’t involve you working on a paper. Wanda assured you nothing much has changed since your social sabbatical but it didn’t stop you from holding on to a little bit of worry.

Beside Wanda’s bed was a framed picture of her and Pietro. His arm was thrown over Wanda with his hand pressed firmly, protectively on her shoulder. You brought it closer to examine, tracing your finger along the glass and smiling at the memory of your friend.

It had been so long you’d forgotten the way Pietro’s blonde hair could look silver in certain light but you didn’t forget his smile. His beautiful smile always shined like the brightest star in the sky despite the darkness it held back.

As you placed the frame back to its spot on the nightstand you thought about what you were celebrating tonight. The internship was bringing you one step closer to your goal and soon you could honor Pietro in your own way by helping others in need.

“Who else is coming tonight?” Wanda shouted from the bathroom at the other end of her apartment.

“Steve and Sam, Clint and Natasha and Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” she asked and you explained he was your new neighbor. “Wait... the Music Man?! What happened to wanting to kill him?”

Instead of shouting back you got up to walk towards her bathroom, watching her style half her hair in a messy bun as wavy tresses fell across her shoulders.

“Wow we really need to catch up more often.”

Wanda jumped at your voice, not expecting you to be so close as you leaned against the doorframe. Looking at you through the reflection of the mirror she asked what happened, so you explained how things went when you finally spoke with him.

“He’s actually really nice so no, I won’t be committing any murders.”

“Uh huh…” Wanda’s lips pulled into a smirk. “You like him.”

Your face scrunched at the thought. “No Wanda I don’t. He’s nice, he’s a friend but I don’t like him, not like that,” you stated sharply. “Remember, he’s still sleeping with all of New York.”

The whites of her eyes were a stark contrast to the black makeup surrounding them as they rolled to the back of her head. “I know he’s your friend,” she emphasized with finger quotations, “But if he’s coming to this he wants to sleep with you too, just sayin’.”

You rolled your eyes back at Wanda, not arguing further because you know she’d never let it go.

She shrugged on a red leather jacket, not that she needed it yet. September had only just begun and the summer heat was still very much present. A bit of early morning rain had cooled things down only slightly today but it never mattered to Wanda, she’ll always put style first before comfort.

The rhythmic beat of drumming grew louder as you descended the steps to the subway. A small band of four young girls had taken up residence for the night along the tiled wall drawing a rather large crowd of faces blocked by their phones as they streamed the performance to social media.

The lead singer reminded you of Natasha with her red hair but the blonde haired drummer stuck out the most; she was killing it as her hot pink spider web clad sleeves were moving in a flurry as she hit a solo. You watched them for a few minutes, tossing a few dollars into their open guitar case before catching the train back towards your neighborhood.

You rubbed your nose with your hand, wiggling it a few times before turning towards Wanda. “Any horses in the stable?” you asked, tilting your head up. It was your code from childhood, a subtle way of asking in public if there were any boogers in your nose.

Wanda chuckled, “Nope. All clear, weirdo.”

“You love me,” you replied, with a wide smile stretching across your face.

Goosebumps erupted along your arms from the unexpected chill on the street and you shrugged down your shirt that had risen up after climbing the steps. Though you were celebrating there was no need to dress up, slimming jeans and black booties were good enough for this occasion.

You were excited to go back to this bar named only after its address, 107. It was modeled like a speakeasy with no real signs other than a lighted marquee that made it a popular Instagram spot. You had been there once before for a coworkers birthday and knowing how crowded it gets you knew you’d be fine without a jacket.

A familiar laugh carried through the streets. Underneath the marquee stood Steve and Sam laughing about something until Sam nudged him to turn around towards the figures walking their way.

After kissing them both on the cheek you introduced them to Wanda. Steve had met her before you remembered though it had been a while since they saw each other.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam said, taking Wanda’s hand and smiling widely, “I’m Dr. Wilson but you can call me Sam.”

He flashed his teeth, grinning widely and Steve turned towards you, speaking a silent conversation with just your eyes that revealed you both knew Sam had dialed up his charm for a reason.

“Why are you guys standing outside?” she asked.

“Well Cap over here is the genius that couldn’t find the door.”

Tilting your head at Steve you questioned, “Cap?”

“Cause I’m the captain at the gym apparently.” Steve said reluctantly, laughing under his breath. “Not my fault that Sam can’t keep up,” he teased.

“Well some of us save lives working long shifts,” Sam replied to Steve while winking at Wanda.

Steve chuckled, “Excuses, excuses.”

“Oh you wanna go?” Sam challenged Steve but it was friendly and beneath the teasing it was obvious just how well they got along.

“Alright let’s head in,” you began, leading the way to the unmarked door.

From the outside the door was covered in wooden planks, appearing to be the remnant of an abandoned or condemned building but it pulled open with ease, with sunset colored lights illuminating the stairs to the basement.

At the bottom is a large man dressed in all black, blocking a wooden door with a stained glass insert. Echoes of the music from within the room he guards bounce around the small corridor where you and your friends are pulling out your IDs to show him.

Soon enough the door opens to reveal a room bathed in muted autumn colors, from the rusted brick walls, glowing with period sconces to the deep russet leather booths. Cognac covered the walls, not only from the bottles on the glass shelves behind the bar but within the Victorian wallpaper. The damask pattern was highlighted by the slightly lighter honey color, though everything seemed to blend together in the dim room.

Natasha spotted you from the bar, hopping off the stool as she grabbed her drink and Clint’s hand. Once again you introduced everybody all the while looking around for another face. Wanda noticed your roaming eyes and asked if you were looking for Bucky. Answering as casually as you could you wanted to make it seem like you didn’t care, because you didn't, not like that. Instead your attention was focused on everyone who was present, and you moved towards the bar.

There was a large table in the back Clint was eyeing like a hawk, ready to move in once the group there showed any sign of getting ready to leave. In the meantime everyone else ordered drinks and crowded around a small high top table, with Sam offering Wanda a seat and standing beside her.

It was nice to be out with friends again and you hoped that since now you would be free from writing papers that you would have more time and energy to get out more. Truthfully you were imagining the next big celebration, the day you finally walk across the stage to receive your diploma.

You’re lost in thought as you take a sip of your deep sunset colored cocktail that clings on to the memory of summer, unaware of the person calling your name until his tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality. You choke slightly on the burn of alcohol you quickly swallow, turning around to see Bucky standing behind you.

The sleeves of his bright blue shirt are rolled up and even in the dim lighting you can see how well the color brings out his eyes.

“You made it!” you exclaimed a little too enthusiastically. “Everyone this is Bucky,” you presented him awkwardly as he squeezed beside you, extending his hand forward to everyone as you introduced them.

“So you’re the Guitar Hero,” Clint remarked.

“We live above you,” Natasha said, quirking her eyebrows.

Bucky’s cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment as he tried to laugh off the unspoken words behind her smirk. You began to speak to diffuse the awkwardness but were interrupted as Clint popped up in a flash, darting through the crowd to get to the large table that was now available.

He slid in the corner of the U-shaped booth with Natasha by his side. Wanda offered Sam to go in first towards the middle because she knew you wouldn’t want to be in the direct center, too many people to disrupt if you needed to get up for any reason.

Sam’s smile increased as Wanda sat in the corner next to him with you beside her. Steve settled in next to Natasha on the end continuing their conversation, watching from across the table as you nervously took a sip of your drink as Bucky sat in the open spot beside you.

He slid out just as quickly though saying he was going to grab a drink. Leaning in close, his breath tickled your ear as he asked if you wanted anything.

“Uh, I-I’ll take a refill, I guess,” you asked, telling him your drink order.

Alcohol is supposed to make people let go so you’re not sure why you feel so nervous.

Motioning to hand him money Bucky put his hand out to stop you. “It’s on me,” he said smiling.

When Bucky came back you raised your glass up. “Thank you so much everyone for coming. It’s been a really, really long journey and while it’s not over yet the end of the road is near.”

With a proud smile you explained not only were you celebrating the internship but your new position at Stark Industries. Glasses clinked together to toast you, with Wanda’s arms pulling you towards her for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

Sitting back up Bucky leaned in to congratulate you. As he spoke your eyes focused on his lips and the stubble growing in around them. Lifting your eyes to his you thanked him, finding yourself in need to quench the thirst of your suddenly dry mouth.

“Y/N, now that you’ll be working at Metro-Gen there’s something you need to know.” Sam lifted the glass to his lips to take a gulp, with an obvious smile stretching across his face as he made everyone wait.

“He does this all the time!” Steve laughed.

Everyone waited with anticipation as he set his glass down. “Do not eat from the cafeteria unless you wanna spend the night in the ER.”

“It can’t be that bad,” said Clint.

“Oh it is.” Sam insisted, offering other nearby places to go instead. “The coffee is passable but I’d avoid the whole place if you can.”

“Good to know.”

Smoother than honey, Sam asked Wanda if she planned on stopping by the hospital now that you’d be working there, letting her know she could always come see him too. You and Steve caught each other’s gaze again and smiled at Sam’s blatant flirting. Wanda didn’t seem to mind, in fact it looked like she had scooted closer towards Sam.

Throughout the night drinks were flowing as freely as the conversation with everyone getting to know each other better.

“Preparing for a trial is so much easier than planning a wedding,” Natasha insisted.

“I don’t see what’s so hard about it,” Clint replied, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“For one, there are too many decisions to make. Colors and themes– do we even need a theme? So many pre-wedding events to plan for, it’s too much!”

Pressing his lips to her temple Clint told Natasha they would get through it. His kiss pacified her frustrations momentarily as Natasha huffed loudly, “And tell me again why we have to invite your cousin who you have not seen or spoken to in over ten years?”

“‘Cause he’s family?”

“I’m on Natasha’s side here,” Wanda interjected, “Just because they’re family you shouldn’t feel obligated to invite them, especially if you don’t have a relationship with them.”

“I just got my cousin’s save the date actually,” Bucky chimed in. “We talk though and his fiancé seems to be into all that planning stuff.”

“I’d rather not have a whole wedding to be honest,” Natasha mumbled quietly, following up her frustrations with a large swig from her beer.

A few hours had passed and you began to yawn, a lot. You hadn’t stayed up this late, especially without the aid of coffee in years and even though you were feeling the exhaustion it was a nice change of pace.

“We should do this again,” you suggested and everyone agreed, exchanging numbers with each other.

Steve and Wanda were headed in the same direction so they left together. Before Steve left he gave you a big hug, whispering in your ear about how much you both needed to gossip about how hard Sam was trying with Wanda. You would definitely be calling her first since she turned as red as a tomato when Sam kissed her cheek as he said goodnight.

The walk to your apartment building wasn’t far but Clint and Natasha decided to grab an Uber since Clint was more wasted than he let on.

“I’m gonna walk back,” you stated as Natasha was setting up the ride. “I’m starving,” you replied to her confusion. “Wanna find something to eat.”

Your stomach had been growling for a while and you were desperate for any type of food, preferably something greasy.

“I’ll walk with you,” Bucky said.

Natasha made a mental note of how quickly Bucky offered to walk with you but still she was relieved you wouldn’t be alone.

The silence was comfortable as you strolled along the sidewalk, finding a walk up window on the next block that offered a slice of pizza for a dollar. You held the paper plate beneath the folded slice to catch the dripping oil, eating as you continued your journey home.

Walking down the block a man pushed the door open of a pub, letting out the startling sound of classic rock music from within as he steps to the side to smoke. Up ahead you heard the drunken laughter of a small group of guys headed your way. Bucky automatically took a precautionary step closer towards you which you hadn’t realized until your elbow grazed his arm. The group passed without incident allowing you to enjoy the rest of your walk home in the somewhat quieted city streets.

“This isn’t the worst dollar slice I’ve had,” Bucky said, finishing his first.

With one more bite to go you tossed the plate into the trash can on the corner. “Definitely not the best though.”

The remaining blocks until your apartment were filled with pizza discourse that made you even hungrier.

“Pineapple on pizza?” you questioned, fumbling with the keys to get into the front door of the building.

“Not my favorite. I don’t hate it but I wouldn’t go out of my way for it.” Bucky pressed the button for the elevator, leaning against the wall. “You?”

“Same. It’s not a topping choice I’d ever pick but I’d still eat it.”

The elevator doors opened and Bucky motioned for you to go inside first.

“Can I be honest? I really wish I had gotten another slice,” you chuckled, looking at the smile pulling on Bucky’s face.

“Me too. We can go out, uh back out, for more.”

The idea of roaming the streets with Bucky in the middle of the night for pizza was very tempting but despite a night of drinking some logic survived, making you realize you would end up sleeping through Sunday. There was too much to do in preparation for the week, especially since you hadn’t brainstormed any ideas for The September Foundation and you really wanted to make a good impression on everyone involved in the project.

“Next time, I promise, maybe not at 1am but we should totally go on a pizza quest! Eat our way through the city and stuff ourselves until we find the best place.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Bucky proclaimed, dropping his voice softly as the elevator opened to your floor.

You smiled widely under his gaze, feeling the heat on your skin that must have been because of the drinks and not the soft stare of Bucky’s handsome face. Your heart began to beat like the rhythm of his song as your lungs let go of the breath you had been holding on to.

Your keys slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor with a jangly thump. Both you and Bucky bent down to reach for them, banging your heads together.

“Shit I’m so sorry,” he apologized, seeing your hand pressed against the spot on your head where you collided. Bucky feels terrible but also can’t help but notice how cute your face looks all scrunched up.

“I’m okay,” you reassured with a smile.

His soft fingers grazed yours as he handed back your keys.

“Thanks and thanks for coming out tonight Bucky.”

Dropping your hand from the slightly painful spot on your head you moved in to hug him. Bucky was tense, not expecting that but he quickly let go and relaxed into the hug, into the softness of your body against his.

His nose is buried in your hair and Bucky breathes in your scent. It’s overwhelming, as the subtle hint of flowers invade his senses, transporting him to a lush garden full of fragrant blooms. His mouth is watering at the sweetness, as every part of his body awakens with the urge to immerse himself in this mesmerizing scent.

He wonders why he hadn’t noticed this before on you, but then again this is the closest you’ve been and like a lightning strike to his soul Bucky is shocked. He’s never felt this need before, this desire to fulfill his senses this way, he craves this more than oxygen and he’s scared.

Fear pulls him away from you, covering his shaky voice as best as he could as he mutters out, “H-have a good night.”

“Goodnight Bucky,” you replied, opening your apartment door.

The dull throbbing of your head keeps Bucky on your mind and on the other side of the wall he lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He’s restless and unsure of what to do with the unsettled feeling in his stomach. Bucky throws his legs over the side of the bed, slumping his shoulders as he wipes his face roughly. He wonders why he can’t sleep, throwing a glance to the wall where he pictures you sleeping beneath the twinkling lights that surround your bed.

His heart skips a worrisome beat leaving Bucky with the only option he feels safe with. Grabbing his phone he scrolls through his contacts wondering who to text. Dot is clingy and desperate enough to come over in the middle of the night but Bucky doesn’t have the strength to deal with her. He scrolls to Rosa, knowing she didn’t live too far. He’s thankful when she comes over, desperate for the distraction, pounding away furiously into the girl beneath him, all while someone else was slowly creeping into his mind.

PART 8

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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