#i think maybe writing about it is sort of therapeutic for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goodgirlofglory · 11 months

Note

Hiya doll! 👋 Finals month is still in motion, so I’ve been pretty quiet on the asks. But today I was feeling some sort of way, and I wanted to know if you’re open to this request.

“Bucky with a reader who is insecure about her body”

Basically, I see a lot of representation for plus size girlies on tumblr ( and this is no hate to anyone) but I wish there was also more representation for midsize girlies. Also for girls who are on the taller side, I’m talking 5”7 and up. I’m 5”7 myself, and wearing any shoe that gives me extra inches makes me feel like I tower over my friends or others.

Another thing is, if you do write for this ask, I was thinking that even though reader does have a low self-esteem, she puts on a front and seems like she has a majorrrrrr ego or god complex. So maybe, Bucky see through that, gets her down from there, and fucks her in front of a mirror 🫣🥵

And I oop-

Anyways, regardless to everything, have a fantastic day/night and rest of your week! I appreciate you 💜💜💜

Bestie!!!!🦋

I hope your finals went well!🫶🫶🫶

I am soooo sorry this took so long! It needed to sit with me for a while before I felt I could do it justice, and then life happened in the meantime ya'know.

Anyways I so dearly hope you like this🙏🙏 I resonated a lot with your prompt as a midsize girlie myself and channeled some of my own experience into it (though I have sadly never been fucked in front of a mirror by Bucky Barnes)💖

Anyway, hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are, you are a true gem 🫶✨️🫶✨️🫶

(Also can’t wait to hear what you think of this so lmk😘)

Just perfect / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x secretlyinsecure!taller!midsize!reader

Word count: 7,8k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, SMUT, bathroom sex, fucking in front of a mirror, dom!Bucky, unprotected p in v (be safe my sweet darlings), a split second of oral (f receiving), reader is insecure and has some harmful thoughts about her own body.

Summary: A rather dreadful Christmas party at S.H.I.E.L.D takes a turn for the better (and frankly therapeutical) when Bucky Barnes shows you that your self-deprecating thoughts about your body might not be as objective as you thought.

“Mid,” you muttered to yourself as you looked over your outfit one more time in the mirror, fighting down the nagging notion of not feeling entirely satisfied with the reflection. The little, black dress fit you perfectly, hugging your upper body like a second skin before flaring out in the shimmering, silk fabric of the skirt that reached just below your knees. Appropriate for a work party, while the hidden slit in the side of the skirt was just a little something extra cheeky for those who’d pay attention. You doubted anyone would. It fit your persona as a ruthless man repeller perfectly too. No flashy colors, no risque shapes, no cutouts and not too short. No fun either, but that wasn’t important here. The cleavage even appeared modest with the average size of your breasts.

“Fucking mandatory Christmas party,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and left your apartment to head to the Avengers compound for the second time that day. How is it even allowed to make an after hours social event mandatory, you wondered angrily as you got in the waiting cab. You kept adjusting your dress as the city slowly flashed by outside the cab window, second guessing everything about your outfit from the dress to the shoes to the bag to the red lipstick you’d dared yourself to put on, afraid it was too much and too basic at the same time.

You knew it was ridiculous to feel so self conscious about yourself and your body. For all intents and purposes, you were perfectly and quite uninterestingly average, neither plus size nor skinny. You knew your plus size girlies had a way harder time being judged and disrespected for their size, and you didn’t want to be too skinny either, like malnourished. You were perfectly midsize, eating healthy and exercising for your body's sake, eating chocolate and pasta and drinking beer for your mental health’s sake. You were perfectly. average. midsize.

It was just that, the lack of appreciation and attention over the years has slowly chipped away at your confidence, and then your self-image, and then your self-esteem, to a point that it was difficult to even rouse any positive thoughts about yourself that didn’t feel half-hearted or mandatory for the girlboss-affirmation of the day.

The one thing you had going for you, the one thing you felt unequivocally confident about, was your job. Working as one of the high level secretaries for Fury himself, you actually had quite the high seat in the house, with clearance, authority and trust from the big man on top himself. It also meant saying no to quite a lot of things and people on a daily basis, to stop people from charging into the director's office in anger, to be authoritative enough to make people listen and actually do whatever orders you delivered on the director’s behalf (and your own sometimes). The job, which you loved and had worked hard to get, was just a tad challenging to splice with a lack of self-image.

So you’ve built a ruthless, badass, girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight persona for yourself, known for being resistant to all flattery, all bribes, all flirting and all begging. Nothing got past you and everyone seemed just a little afraid of you. It was true, you’d garnered the nickname “the other she-hulk” among your peers. And though you embodied this persona like the most natural thing in the world, it was also a front really, for your honest to God lack of confidence in your everything average.

Oh yeah, except for your height, you realized as you got out of the cab at your destination and was hailed over by the other female colleagues in your department waiting outside the compound - the shoes you wore turned out to give you several inches of height on the other girls, even as they also wore stiletto-like heels. In the height department, you were just above average, which did not make you feel any better necessarily.

Fuck. You looked like their fucking body guard, looming behind them like a giraffe as you made your way inside, them smiling and laughing, you affecting your haughty mask, the one that protected you the best when you were feeling a bit off-kilter. Better to deem everyone here below your interest before they even had a chance to assess you, right?

The party was nice. They’d somehow managed to make the compound not feel like a concrete bunker, decorating almost every surface with some fabric or other, flashy reds and silvers and greens and blues, giant trees everywhere overloaded with decorations. Maximalism galore.

“It looks like Santa exploded in here,” you joked to your colleagues, receiving a bout of wild laughter in return. It hadn’t really been that funny, but hey, maybe you could be known as the “other deadpool” in the future if you worked hard enough on your comedy.

As usual, the lovelier girls of your department got swarmed pretty quickly by guys. Recruits, officers, cadets, other secretaries - they all flocked to your group. You didn’t blame them, your colleagues were beautiful, witty, smiling brightly and exuding a sort of light that could only be rivaled by the sun. They were nice to everyone too, unlike you.

You stayed and chatted for a bit. No one commented on your dress and certainly not the split at the side, and you tried not to let that get to you. This was a work event, after all, it would be inappropriate if they did come on to you or something. Your self-esteem whimpered quietly even so.

It didn’t take long for the rest to get tipsy, and someone started blasting music somewhere, effectively switching from corporate mingling-mode to drunken tomfoolery-mode. You easily resisted getting dragged to the dancefloor, effecting a disinterested, above-it-all mask as your work friends pouted and dragged your arm in a petulant, though surprisingly endearing way.

“I’m not debasing myself tonight, thank you very much,” you said, knowing it was harsh but only gaining a playfully scolding look before the whole gang bounced off to dance without you.

You made your way over to the bar instead. A half-hour or so more and then you could safely leave without breaking any social codes, you thought with relief as you ordered another glass of champagne.

Turning from the bar, glass in hand, you suddenly bumped into someone, champagne sloshing around the rim, a few drops spilling over your hand.

“Hey, watch where-” you started, words dying in your mouth as you looked up…and up a broad chest, a thick neck and then came face to face with Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier himself.

B-big, your brain supplemented eloquently as you stopped speaking all together.

How was he so tall? Okay, so you knew he was tall, you’d encountered him regularly over the years and had always felt dwarfed by the tree-trunk size of the man, but you were in four inch heels, god damnit, and you still had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. They glinted as he looked down on you, and for a moment you forgot who you were supposed to be and nearly shrank in on yourself, feeling uncharacteristically small.

“Sorry,” he simply said, giving you a once-over so quick you weren’t sure it’d happened at all, and then he leaned around you to grab a few napkins from the bar. He made quick work of taking the glass from your hand and wiping the stray drops of champagne from it, set it on the bar and then gently took your hand in his and wiped it as well.

You could only stare in astonishment at the size of his hands, rough and calloused, but with neatly trimmed nails, engulfing yours and being so exquisitely gentle. He put the glass back in your hand and looked down at you with a pleased smile.

You quickly amassed your indifferent mask, raising a haughty eyebrow at him, and stepped aside so he could order whatever he wanted. He’d at least apologized and cleaned up the mess he (and you together, admittedly) had caused. You supposed it was the best outcome, both for your pride and confidence. You didn’t step far from the bar, sure you would be back soon enough for another glass, and looked out on the burgeoning dance floor in front of you.

“Why don’t you join?” a deep voice asked from the side.

Looking over, Bucky had come up to stand at your side, looking out over the crowd as well, whiskey glass in hand. His strong profile was illuminated by the flashing lights of the dance floor, reflected in those baby blue eyes, and his hair was tucked back into a bun at the back of his head. His suit must have been tailored by sorcery or something, because it hugged him in all the right places, press neat and crisp, making him look both perfectly put together and indecently so.

Okay, so maybe you had a little something of a crush on the guy. He was fine as hell, and always put this old school New York charm on you whenever you met. He was the only one who still tried to charm and flirt with you whenever he came to Fury’s office, and though you put on your unimpressed and uninterested mask, thoroughly shutting him down each time, you secretly appreciated those moments more than you would ever admit out loud. It felt nice that he at least treated you the same as all the other secretaries - he was the only one who still did.

You raised your eyebrow, securing a bored look even as you wanted to ask with you?

“Not exactly my crowd,” you said instead, taking a swig at your drink.

“No? Didn’t think you cared about things like that,” he said, smoothly challenging you.

“Not exactly my music, then,” you said. Arrogance and low energy usually got people to leave you alone when you felt fragile. You turned to give him a fake, sarcastically apologetic smile.

“Ah, I see. Too bad, would’ve loved to see how wide that split goes while you twirl,” he said, leaning closer to you, and in your shock the mask you’d held on so tight cracked, and you whipped to look at him. He’d noticed it?

You saw the pleased victory shining in his eyes. Cheeky bastard was trying to break you, trying to make you drop the haughty exterior, like he knew you were only putting up a front. And you’d let your mask slip and showed him he was right. And like you suspected he knew, it was the exact sort of thing you deeply, secretly craved someone to do.

But it wouldn’t be that easy. Bucky could just be fucking with you, or making easy conversation. But he’d noticed the split in your dress, so he must’ve been looking, right? Just a little harder than everybody else. Still, it was out of the question to just drop every defense and wall you had now, in this room, just because of one comment from him. You quickly affected an unimpressed, almost fatigued mask, raising your glass to your lips.

“Too bad, Barnes, I’ve already had my high school prom,” you said, delivering the line with just the perfect amount of arrogance and judgment.

You felt his eyes lingering on your face for long moments as you stared into the crowd, refusing to meet his eyes and potentially let more slip. This shit was exhausting enough when people didn’t clock on to your farce. Still, a small part of you didn’t want him to stop looking, to stop showering you in this undivided attention that sizzled like carbonic bubbles on your skin.

You immediately shut down your disappointment when he left without another word, telling yourself to be proud you didn’t beg or flirt or plead for his attention like everyone else did. You didn’t need anyone but yourself, you needed to remember that.

The music shifted from some mainstream pop song to some very old jazz, and the sudden shift only had a second to register before Bucky appeared as from thin air, took your glass from you, downed the rest of your drink in one gulp (eyes shining with mischief as you gawked a little at him), ditched the glass on the nearby table and then promptly took you by the hands and hauled you out on the dance floor.

“W-wait, I -” your words cut off to a little squeal as the soldier wrapped a strong arm around your waist and twirled you so your feet lifted off the ground, the skirt of your dress flying out. Your arms clung around his neck and shoulders as the world spun in a flurry of bright, flickering lights, and your feet didn’t touch the ground for ten solid seconds as Bucky turned and turned.

When he eventually put you down, his arms didn’t let up much, keeping you firmly tucked to the hard planes of his stomach and chest with a hand that went around your back and held your waist on the other side.

You schooled your expression down even as nerves and excitement and a fair share of actual, fucking excitement filled you from the unexpected dancing. You actually did like to dance a lot. You looked up and found Bucky’s eyes on your face, glimmering in the bright lights as he easily led you in some old timey couple’s dance that he apparently knew perfectly.

“This music more to your liking?” he asked, challenging and genuine at the same time, and you couldn’t for the life of you understand his angle. Why was he doing this?

You knew people were watching, even as the dance floor was still full of other dancers making due with their modern dance moves to the old music. And though you did feel kinda nervous being so exposed, you couldn’t very well cut off this dance and leave - that would only make you look even more insecure than you felt.

So you soldiered through, putting on a mildly entertained, smug look and looking Bucky in the eyes.

“It’s certainly something else,” you said, and watched as his eyes flared over with a sort of playful frustration, shaking his head a little at you, but smiling despite himself.

“Drop the act, sweetheart,” he said then, low enough for no one else to hear, but it still made you bristle.

“What act?” you said, making it sound nonchalant and innocent at the same time. “Just because you remember one dance from 70 years ago, I’m supposed to swoon?” you challenged, knowing the words were harsh but goddamnit, he was getting too close.

A groan escaped him then, one you felt more than heard from the way your bodies were pressed together, and you flushed, not expecting that kind of response.

He leaned down and murmured in your ear.

“I like it when you’re mean, but I’d like it more if you were honest,” he said, and your breath caught, the physical sensation of his hot breath on your ear distracting you to the point of stumbling a bit on your heels. His arm around your waist didn’t let you so much as twist an ankle, which made you feel even more heated.

Before you could come up with a retort, Bucky flung you out in a twirl, making your skirt fly around you. He led you perfectly even as he almost threw you around like a ragdoll, and you had to admit you were amazed by how graceful you were even as every move and twist were orchestrated and led by Bucky. The crowd disappeared as you moved to the music, coming back to Bucky, being swung out again, your back to his front at one point, his breath hot on your neck, swinging out again and stepping past each other in swoops only connected by your hand in his.

You met his eyes and saw the flash over with an intensity that made your skin prickle, with a hunger you could scarcely believe was meant for you, eyes raking over your body, lingering on the leg peaking out through the split in your skirt, your chest heaving in the low cut neckline of your dress, your face flushed and no doubt looking as amazed as you felt on the inside.

The dance ended in a perfectly timed dip, Bucky holding you down and cradling your neck and the small of your back in capable arms, face so close you could feel his breath fan across your face, smelling of whiskey and spearmint.

You smiled, couldn’t help it, you hadn’t had this much fun at a work event in years. Bucky’s eyes flitted about your face as he echoed your smile with a brilliant flash of teeth himself. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your eyes flicked down to his lips, those luscious, plump lips and oh holy fuck did you want to kiss him at that moment. A desperation you couldn’t quell seized you by your fucking guts and you positively throbbed. Your smile faltered, and you saw his fall too. Daring to look up into his eyes, you saw the same hunger reflected there, nearly engulfing you in its heat.

Then the crowd returned, cheering, the music went back to some pop song from last year and reality dumped back in on your head so fast you almost made the mistake of scrambling out of Bucky’s hold.

No, no, no, way too exposed, this was not how you planned this night…

You were actually proud of the way you managed to slowly extract yourself from Bucky’s arms, give a slow, bored “thank you,” and then calmly leave the room all together to escape to the ladies room.

You had to admit, they hadn’t neglected the bathrooms in the compound, you thought as you occupied the space alone. They were kinda nice, big and spacious, marble and polished steel making the space comfortable and with an air of luxury compared to the practical, brutalist vibe of the rest of the building.

You touched up on your lipstick, hands shaking a little from the excursion of the dancing. Okay, you needed to leave, you thought to yourself as you felt your skin still sizzling faintly wherever Bucky’s hands had touched you. Your nerves seemed newly awakened as if from a deep slumber, and it would not do to develop an even deeper crush on him.

As if summoned, the door to the bathroom opened and Bucky stepped through, eyes finding yours in the mirror immediately.

“I think you’re supposed to be in the next room over Barnes,” you drawled even as your heart picked up speed.

He didn’t answer as he slowly crossed the room.

You couldn’t help shifting in your skin as your body thrummed with an exhausting amount of nervous excitement. His gaze was level,possessing your attention like an iron grip. It was like he saw right through every mask and facade you tried to put on, right in to the very center, the very truth inside you. It lulled you and provoked you at the same time.

“You’re in the wrong restroom, Barnes,” you said, even harsher, when he was about halfway across to you. He still didn’t answer.

You spun to face him, anger welling higher. Who did he think he was, coming in here and stripping away the only scraps of protection you had, looking at you like he could read the thoughts as they appeared in your mind?

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he answered as you glared at him, coming to stop directly in front of you, only inches between you, and the air there sparked with energy you just couldn’t deny you were affected by.

You scoffed, fighting against the crumbling of your exterior. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you wanted him. Couldn’t deny it, couldn’t help yourself as your muscles ached to reach for him, to press yourself against him and let him wrap his strong, safe arms around you again. To tuck yourself away into him and shut your mind off and just feel taken care of - in any way - by someone other than yourself.

A desperate thought occurred to you; maybe you could do this without losing face. If you went on the offensive, you could still hold control over the situation while still letting whatever was sizzling between you and Bucky explode, you thought a bit desperately as you held his stare, his eyes darkening as the seconds ticked by. Maybe you didn’t have to bare your soul for him in order to get a taste of what you wanted. You could just make it out to be a hookup at a party, something carnal but detached. Give your body to him while still guarding your mind and soul.

Not giving yourself a moment more to stall, you surged forward, grabbed his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t as surprised as you’d liked by your sudden call to action. In fact, he seemed to come unleashed the moment your lips met his, a grunt sounding in his throat as he instantly wrapped one arm around your waist, his other going into your hair to keep your head firmly put where he wanted it.

Yes

The kiss was filthy, hot breaths and open mouths and tongue on tongue almost immediately, like a dam of pent up lust had just erupted at that first touch for the both of you. He pushed you back so the marble counter dug into your ass, and plastered himself against you, groaning as your hands moved to map out his back.

You fumbled to reach for the lapels on his jacket and he let up his hold just long enough for you to wrench his suit jacket off him before both pair of hands went on frantically groping and gripping and touching, and you couldn’t seem to draw breath into your aching lungs for all the burning desire that flooded your body.

Bucky broke out of your heady kiss, gasping as he leaned his forehead to yours, hands gripping your hip and the back of your neck so tight it almost pinched you, and you relished the feeling.

“Fuck,” he groaned between pants, and you liked the sound of that very much.

You gave him a sultry and cocky “mhm” as you kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip. When you opened your eyes again, he was still looking at you, his stare so fucking intense.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and that…was stepping into a territory you were not too keen on. You couldn’t have sentimentality at that moment. You couldn’t control your tiny wince either, trying to move on with another kiss, your hands dragging down the hard planes of his chest to entice him to move along.

Bucky didn’t grant you that mercy. He apparently saw your wince as well as he saw the split in your skirt, and scrutinized you with a piercing stare as he reiterated between kisses.

“So gorgeous,” he murmured and you tried your damndest to ignore it, kissing him more intently, hands moving a bit desperately to his belt, but an uncomfortable laughter escaped you either way.

Bucky stopped your hands, grabbing them and putting them on the counter at your side before cradling your face firmly in his hands.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is he doing, you lamented as you looked everywhere but his eyes.

“I mean it, you’re a gorgeous woman,” he said and you whined softly, not at all capable of hearing that. Whether out of a misguided sense of pity or because he wanted to get in your panties, you didn’t want him to tell you that shit just to placate you. You were already dying to get fucked, false flattery was of no need. You were practically soaking your panties already just from his kisses and his hands, one warm and one slightly colder, moving over your body like he couldn’t get to all of it quick enough.

“You don’t have to-” you started exasperated, squirming to get away from the intimacy of his proximity, the way he looked at you and the way he was cradling your face.

“You see, this is what I mean. I think you’re hiding, doll. You don’t realise how fucking amazing you are, and you hide it behind a bitchy face and even bitchier words,” he said.

Words failed you then. The fucking audacity of this man to call you out like that. You were not prepared to be laid out like that, and you didn’t know whether to fight back with teeth and claws or to flee in your humiliation.

Bucky must have seen your warring thoughts on your face, the simmering rage at being cornered and confronted like this, like an animal frantic with self preservation.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked, and you could see a fierce competitive glint light on fire in his eyes, pouncing on the challenge.

In a flash, he’d turned you around and you met your own expression in the mirror above the sink. Bucky stepped flush against you again, and nestled the hard bulge in his pants right against your ass. You squirmed and whined a little. You wanted that inside you already. But Bucky held you tightly pinned between himself and the counter, his metal hand coming around to splay on your stomach, shining metal against the black silk fabric, effectively giving you no room to move. His hand was so huge, it covered nearly the whole area between your belly button and the underside of your heaving breasts. He propped his chin on your shoulder and captured your eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

“You’re exquisite, doll” he whispered, his other hand landing lightly on your waist. This time you saw your own wince of disbelief in the mirror, instantly embarrassed at how revealing you were. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, both from his words and the way his eyes were just eating your body up in the mirror.

“I’m nothing special,” you heard yourself murmur.

“Oh, on the contrary, doll, you’re as rare as they come,” Bucky said, flesh hand moving to grab your hips appreciatively. “Swinging these hips all around the compound, your walk so sweet compared to that barking mouth you’ve got on ya,” he said, drawled a bit, his Brooklyn accent coming forth, kneading your hips and pulling you back to grind your ass on his hard bulge.

Your breath hitched on a gasp, and your heart fluttered in your chest. He’d been watching the way you walked? And he liked it?

His hands came up to cup one of your heaving breasts.

“Such elegant lines, perfect, round tits,” he murmured into the skin below your ears, and you trembled in his arms as his fingers teased a nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

“A neck that’s just begging to be sucked on and marked,” he continued before his lips sealed itself to that sensitive spot right below the hinge of your jaw and you gasped raggedly as sparks flew through your body.

You were positively high on the novelty of his praise, but you just couldn’t quite believe it.

“I’ve…a-always just thought I was so average,” you admitted, voice timid, nothing short of a whisper, and you berated yourself for revealing your insecurity so openly, even as Bucky’s lips let go of your skin and he nuzzled the hair behind your ear.

“God, no,” he sighed, hand coming down to your hip again, guiding you to grind back on his bulge again, and fuck, he was hard, “I don’t get how you could even think that,” he said, and the genuine astonishment in his voice had to be real, or else he was a brilliant fucking actor.

Your hips had started moving on their own now, steadily grinding between his metal hand on your stomach and the hard cock at your ass, sizzling sparks of heat traveling your body from the friction. You could feel Bucky nodding into the crook of your neck, encouraging and praising at the same time.

“But I’m…kinda tall…surely y-you’d want someone shorter, m-more petite?” you heard yourself whisper, and you just had to ask him right out, to give voice to those incessant, nagging insecurities.

He actually laughed then, a breathy chuckle against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Are you kidding? You nearly gave me a heart attack in these heels tonight, baby,” he said easily, calm and honest and straightforward and it was like he wasn't even trying to convince you of anything, he was just speaking honestly. “And when you danced with me? How sexy and smooth and fucking alive you were as you let me spin you? Couldn’t take my fucking eyes of you, fuck, I haven’t been this hard in ages. Plus, you’re just perfect for me to fuck like this. Can’t you feel how perfectly your ass fits against my cock when you grind like that, huh? Can’t have that with a shorter girl, you were made for me, darling,” he said, breath growing puffy and you were almost shaking, both from his words and the blazing fucking heat they stoked.

A needy, whimpering sort of whine escaped you at that. It was perfect, your height to his. Perfect for you to nudge your ass against his pelvis and feel his hot lips and a sliver of tongue on the heated skin of your neck at the same time.

“Do you believe me, now, sweetheart? Or do you need me to fuck it into you?” he asked then, a teasing lilt to his voice even as it dropped a fucking octave, rumbling over you skin, making you ache.

You turned your head to graze your lips against his, recognising when he was posing a challenge by now, when his competitive side came out to play. You waited just a few seconds, letting your mingling, ragged breaths fill the silence, before answering, looking him straight in his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered against his mouth.

His reaction was almost instant. His metal hand came up to cradle your throat, pinning you close to him as his flesh hand had the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips in a split second. His hand was between your legs in the next second, brazen and possessive and you fucking loved it, knees nearly buckling in your stilettos as his warm flesh palm cupped you there. A filthy groan sounded in your ear.

“Fucking perfect pussy already soaked for me, huh?” he downright growled, fingers moving up and down your clothed slit, feeling just how wet you were through the flimsy fabric of your lace panties. “This pussy aching, huh? Hasn’t been fucked right in ages, I reckon? Some bastard left you feeling like less than just perfect?” he babbled as he began rubbing tight circles on your clit, making you keen at both his words and ministrations, mind floating up to the fucking skies on a cloud of endorphins and arousal. “You give me their names, honey, and I’ll make sure they never bother you again,” he said, dark intentions in an even darker, gruffer voice and you couldn’t stand still for the way you needed him.

“Fuuuck, please, Bucky,” you whined, grinding your pussy down on his hand, soaking his fingers.

“That’s right, baby, you take what you deserve, you take what this perfect body deserves,” he encouraged.

“I need…I need,” you breathed, eyes closing as you rode the sensation of being touched like this, so expertly, too much one second and not enough the next.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he groaned into the skin of your neck.

“I need…your…please, your cock,” you whimpered.

His hands pulled back and gave your pussy a playful little slap, making you jolt and yelp in his arms, and the slight sting felt so fucking good.

“That’s right,” he said, giving you a few precious seconds to collect your frayed, jumbled, melting mind as he frantically undid his belt and fly, pulling his cock out and pulling your soiled panties to the side to notch his cock at your weeping hole.

He didn’t give you anymore time to beg before he pushed his hips forward and you both gasped raggedly as his cock slid in, perfectly to the hilt, your pussy sucking him in like it had a mind of its own. His whole frame, massive and rugged as it was, shuddered as he stood there with his cock buried inside you, and you opened your eyes to watch in astonished fascination through the reflection in the mirror as he took a moment to get a hold of himself. One hand flexed its grip around your throat, the other on your hip, grip so tight and you hoped it would leave bruises.

He didn’t wait long until he started thrusting, pulling out almost completely before thrusting in again, forgoing any buildup and going straight to the main fucking course and you were so ridiculously relieved he wasn’t teasing you anymore.

His hands let go of you and you fell forward, draping yourself over the counter so you could just feel the way his cock, thick and ridged and so fucking hard, dragged against your walls, yielding nothing as he speared you.

“Need to see you,” Bucky breathed between pants as he kept fucking you.

You felt the bodice of your dress loosen and realized he had undone the zipper at the back of your dress, peeling it off your arms and then hauling you the meat of your shoulder to straighten against him again, completely naked from the waist up.

His hands were on your exposed skin immediately, mapping out your ribcage, squeezing the pouch beneath your belly button and coming up to knead your breasts, pulling on your nipples. He was like a man starved, all the while his cock was steadily pumping into you, pushing you higher and higher, the sounds from where you were joined filtering in through your haze of lust and pleasure like a sinful symphony.

You opened your eyes to find his in your reflection, pools of incendiary desire following every minute twitch of your face. Your eyes flicked over your own face and saw the crimson flush, the sweat on your brow, hair ruffled, the scrunched up expression and heavy-lidded, drugged eyes. You looked a downright, embarrassing mess, your deepest pleasure so plainly written on your face, exposing you to the point of pain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to lean back to hide in the crook of his neck.

Bucky did not let you.

“Oh no, no, no, don’t hide from me now, sugar,” he said, one hand coming up to pull your face forward, “look at me,” he ordered and you opened your eyes to his again.

“See how exquisite you are?” he asked, hips slapping against your ass. “See how beautiful you look, taking my cock?” he asked, watching you watch him in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” he ordered, and you whimpered as you met your own gaze in the mirror again.

There was an almost lascivious tilt to his voice as he kissed your neck sloppily and murmured.

“Tell her she looks beautiful,” he said.

You thrashed as much as you could in your pinned position, the counter digging into your hips, high heeled shoes barely touching the floor.

“Bucky,” you whined petulantly. There was no way.

“Say it, darling,” he warned before his hips slowed down to an almost complete stop, and that only made you thrash harder. “Oh, you want to come baby? Then look at yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m beautiful,” he said, and you gawked at him in disbelief, humiliation and mortification burning hot on your cheeks.

The hand not holding your face towards the mirror kept exploring your flesh as he waited, pinching and grabbing everywhere like he just couldn’t stop. You looked at yourself in the mirror, took in the simmering fire in your eyes, your lips with its bright red lipstick smeared all over.

“Come on, darling, don’t you want to come? Won’t you let me make you come?” Bucky asked, spreading kisses down your neck as his eyes burned into your face through the mirror.

You fought it for as long as you could, didn’t want to play these games, didn’t want to see your own vulnerability on your face as you said something you should believe but didn’t quite.

Bucky grinded his hips all the way inside you and then stilled completely and your need won.

“I’m beautiful,” you whispered, breath hitching as you saw the disbelief, the resistance in your own eyes, hating yourself both for saying it and not believing it.

Bucky groaned in a resolutely pleased manner and started moving his hips again, languidly stroking in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Again,” came his growled order from behind.

Your resilience was weaker this time, with the tip of his cock reaching so deep, adding rhythmic pressure to that elusive spot in the deepest nook of your body that had your knees going wobbly.

“I’m beautiful,” you said again, this time giving a low, timid voice to the words.

Bucky groaned behind you, hands gripping you tighter as his hips picked up speed.

“That’s right. Say ‘I’m gorgeous’.”

“I-I’m gorgeous.”

“Say ‘I deserve this’”

“I d-d - oh fuck - I deserve this - ah -”

“Say ‘I’m making Bucky Barnes crazy on a daily basis and I don’t even care enough to acknowledge it,” Bucky husked behind you.

That made you actually giggle, though it came out more like a stuttering whine.

“I-I didn’t know,” you moaned, breaking your own eye contact in the mirror to look at his face. You honestly didn’t. Sure, you’d established a playful banter over the years, frequently sparking conversation whenever he was at your desk for something concerning Fury or you met in the halls or right after department meetings. But you’d honestly never considered you, just being you, could be driving a man like him crazy.

Eyes dark as the ocean burned into yours from where his face was propped on your shoulder, mouth nibbling on the side of your neck and your earlobe as his hips kept up a punishing pace. It was becoming hard to string together coherent thoughts, your mind going hazy from the steady punch of his cock.

He smiled against your skin, nipping it so hard you squealed a little, head swimming from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“You’re killing me here, doll,” Bucky murmured playfully against your skin, hands moving again, skimming over your skin and kneading your flesh in such an appreciative way it had you blushing, even as you were steadily pounded by his cock, halfnaked in the bathroom at your workplace during a fucking Christmas party.

It was all a haze, the way you were hurtling towards the precipice of your orgasm, his cock in your pussy, his hot breath on your neck, his hands roaming your body like a starved beast. The smell of his rich, musky cedar cologne and the hint of fresh, male sweat. And his eyes, devouring everything his hands didn’t touch.

“I-I’m gonna…fuck, Bucky -” you stammered. You were so close.

“I got you,” Bucky answered breathlessly, his flesh hand moving down between your legs to stroke your clit in fast, tight circles.

You keened, vision blurring as your muscles seized, teetering on the edge. You faintly registered your own expression in the mirror in front of you, mouth falling open, eyebrows scrunching and a crimson flush high on your cheeks.

You heard Bucky groaning behind you and trembled at the sound.

“Fuck, there you go, baby, fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking - tight, god damn -”

And then Bucky was wrenching your face to the side and kissing you. And maybe it was the way his hips stuttered as you moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was the possessiveness with which he pushed his tongue into yours. Maybe it was the way his metal hand gripped you tighter as you started shaking, or maybe it was the sheer desperation in his kiss as he herded you over the edge that truly made you feel beautiful in that moment. Beautiful and blissed out as you spasmed on his cock, hearing his choked grunt as you pulled his orgasm right out of him.

You felt him throb in turn with you, his cum pooling hot deep inside you, the both of you nearly falling off your damn feet as you came together, the kiss disintegrating to a mere sloppy tangle of breaths and tongues.

As you slowly came down from your high, your mind started whirring. Halfway preparing for Bucky to pull out and leave swiftly. To maybe give you a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, to push the skirt of your dress down over your ass and then make his exit from this very public bathroom. It wasn’t that you thought Bucky was some kind of sleaze, but it would be okay if he left it at that. You were a big girl, you knew people got carried away during a rowdy fuck, and if he left it at this, you would be fine. You told yourself as much, at least…

But Bucky didn’t leave. He didn’t pull out right away, either. Once you could both catch your breath, he reiterated his kiss, slow and thorough and breathtaking all anew. His metal hand firmly secured your face to meet his and his flesh hand gave your clit a few more gentle swirls, and you could feel his smile, fascinated and playful against your mouth as you jolted at the sensation. Whimpering a little at the overstimulation but keeping yourself completely still for it anyway, you were astonished by how sensitive you were and how fucking good it felt to have Bucky teasingly play with you as you basked in the afterglow.

You squeezed around his cock still lodged inside you, and he gave a little grunt in response.

“Careful, sugar, or I might get hard again,” he murmured against our lips, rolling his hips gently into your ass.

“Is…is that supposed to deter me?” you asked, your snarky tone just a little undermined by the way you gasped.

He groaned at that, low and pleased.

“I suppose it should…at least until I can get you out of this fucking bathroom and into a bed,” he murmured, and a surge of adrenaline went through you. He wanted to do this again?

A small thought in the back of your mind wondered how it was possible that no one had come in and interrupted you by now, but it was quickly pushed away as Bucky gently pulled himself out of you. You tried to conceal the shiver of arousal that went through you as you felt his cum leak out of you and down the inside of your thighs.

“Stay like that,” he whispered, removing himself and the fucking furnace of warmth that had been plastered to your back. The cold air hitting your back made you realize just how naked and exposed you were, your dress a scrunched up tangle low on your waist.

You didn’t have time to become self-conscious though, before Bucky was back, kneeling behind you. Peaking over your shoulder, you were just in time to see him wipe a damp hand towel up your thigh and gently across the puffy, sensitive mess between your legs. You flushed for an entirely new reason now. It was just so…intimate, and sweet and generous and you struggled to handle the care and tenderness with which Bucky thoroughly cleaned both his mess and yours.

You watched him quietly as he cleaned you up, and then as he seemingly couldn’t help himself from bending forward and kissing your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe a small lick to your still sensitive clit. You yelped, hips bucking away.

He shushed you gently and kissed your ass cheek soothingly, fitting the admittedly soggy fabric of your panties back over your pussy before getting on his feet again. With gentle hands, he turned you around, and your eyes went wide as you looked down to see his cock still hanging out of his fly, already back to full hardness.

Bucky followed your shocked expression down and chuckled.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, hands still cradling your shoulders, moving up to knead the muscle between your shoulders and neck, and you hummed in pleasure, eyes falling close.

“Does that always happen?” you asked, feeling the soreness in the muscles ease up under Bucky’s dexterous fingers.

“No,” he answered simply, and you could tell by his tone that it meant something. That it lent itself to everything he’d said about you and the supposed attractiveness you held to him. You kept your eyes closed and bit your lips to keep from smiling too broadly at that.

Feeling emboldened, you reached for him, hands finding his clothed chest and stroking down until you reached his cock, wrapping a tentative fist around its stiff heat.

You heard Bucky suck in a breath, and then his hand wrapped around yours, holding it tight as he thrust his hips lightly a few times, pumping his cock gently through your fist. You were ready to go again by the time he gently pried your hand away and groaned like he was being gently tortured.

You couldn’t help your pout, opening your eyes to find him gazing at your face.

“I want to take care of you, too,” you complained, and the gentle whine of your tone sounded so small and decidedly submissive, certainly not fitting the badass work persona you’d built. It just suddenly felt so safe to be a bit whiny with him.

Bucky only stepped closer and cradled your face in his hands.

“I’ll let you take care of me later, sweet thing, to your heart’s content. For now, tuck me back in and we can get outta here,” he drawled, Brooklyn accent soothing his tone and lulling you to comply, pacified by his promise to let you take care of him soon.

You did as he said, tucking his hard cock back into his pants and doing up his fly and belt as he watched your face intently, no doubt seeing the way your eyes grew hazy, your breath labored and your face flushing all anew at the way he held you while you handled him. You let your hands linger over his bulge when you were done, dying to take him out again and just do whatever he wanted to make him feel good.

Soon, you told yourself, soon.

“Now, I would like to swing you one last time on that dance floor out there, let everyone see that gorgeous leg through that deadly split in your skirt. And then I want everyone to see you leave on my arm, before I take you back to mine and take care of you properly,” Bucky said, voice even and sure and smile so dashing, you couldn’t help but smile back and nod in enthusiastic agreement.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #dom!bucky barnes #dom!bucky barnes x reader

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asahicore · 1 year

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trsr & enha :: their favorite forms of skinship !

pairing. ot7 enhypen x reader + ot 12 treasure x reader genre/warnings. just fluff after fluff after fluff... the part for heeseung/jihoon/yedam might be slightly suggestive but not even that much, not really proofread word count. 1.5k a/n. another reaction/headcannon type post!! i don't know why but i love writing these, they're just really fun and quick to do. if there's one you'd like to see from me feel free to ask! also i just love my 19 boys lmao so i wanted to include all of them at once, pls lmk what u think of this!!!

一 cuddling ; junkyu, jungwon, junghwan

simple explanation for junkyu: he’s lazy and wants to stay in bed, but he also loves you so much that he wants to be as close to you as he can. he’s got that i-want-to-crawl-into-your-skin-but-that’s-not-physically-possible-so-i’ll-settle-for-the-next-best-thing kinda vibe, y’know? so get ready for cuddle sessions that last so long that at some point you forget where your body ends and his begins. jungwon and junghwan, on the other hand, like the possibilities that cuddling brings: they have access to your hair, your face, your back, just whatever they want, basically. they like sleepy conversations about anything and everything and the fact that they can speak really quietly because of how close they are to you. it just makes them really warm inside!

一 playing with their hair ; jake, ni-ki, doyoung, yoshi

puppy line! jake was a no-brainer for this one. he really likes cuddling up to you when napping or watching a movie, and your hand finds its way up to his head and just play with his hair or scratch his head. he loves it far too much and it puts him to sleep like nothing else, but the problem is that he would get so used to it he would start practically pushing his head onto your hand so you’d start doing it… but how could you say no? i can also see something like this calming ni-ki down. if he’s super energetic and running around the room, just thread your hand through his hair and he’ll calm down in one second, it’s just that therapeutic to him. i think he’d also like it if you literally played with his hair, as in if you gave him stupid hair-dos and put a bunch of ribbons in there, he’d just find it funny and it’d also be a good opportunity for him to just stare at your face and without it being creepy. i had a somewhat harder time finding a category for doyoung and yoshi, because they both absolutely love any and every sort of skinship, but i think they fit here. if they really had to choose one form of physical touch, they’d choose this one. they love it especially while cuddling - their head resting in the crook of your neck and you giving them head scratches, maybe telling them about your day or whispering sweet nothings while they drift off to sleep. heaven.

一 holding hands ; sunoo, jeongwoo

ok, these two are for pretty different reasons. i’ve seen this on enhablr, there seems to be a general consensus that sunoo is somewhat the least physically affectionate of the group - not that he doesn’t like it, but he just expresses his love for you differently. if physical touch was really important to you, he’d of course make an effort, but the only thing that really comes naturally to him is holding your hand. whether you’re walking or sitting, maybe watching a movie or just talking, if you don’t need to use them, his hand finds yours as if by instinct. i think he’d also really like it if you wrapped your hands around his upper arm while you walked, i don’t know why but i can just see it. jeongwoo also really loves holding hands, but i see it more as a too-shy-to-do-anything-else thing (i’m really pushing my shy jeongwoo agenda here). he’s just got this vibe of being super loud and obnoxious around his friends and then super shy and blushy and quiet around the person he likes, namely, you. at first, he can barely look you in the eyes, so when he takes your hand in his for the first time, it’s really a step up. even when he starts getting comfortable around you and showing his completely insane side, the habit stays, so you often find your fingers interlocked with his. he’d die inside if you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, by the way.

一 peppering their face with kisses ; hyunsuk, jaehyuk, haruto

these three LOVE to be babied, i don’t make the rules. they’re so adorable that i feel like whoever dates them would get cute aggression all the time. it may not be as obvious for haruto than for hyunsuk and jaehyuk, but i just know he lets out his cuter side around his s/o, especially if they’re older. he wouldn’t go full on aegyo or anything, he’s not that crazy, but would definitely act sweeter if he knew it would get him affection. if you started kissing him all over his face, he’d pretend he hated it and tell you to stop with a huge smile on his face, so you’d just keep going. i think it’d make him laugh a lot and he’d (not so) secretly love it. hyunsuk and jaehyuk though? they have no shame. baby talk, pouting, whining, they do it all. they’re practically begging for attention even at their grown age, and the more in-their-face the skinship is, the more they like it, so they would absolutely die for something like this. i can also see them loving this in the morning, like if you woke them up like this… can you imagine the sleepy smiles and giggles… i’m gonna go cry in a corner now.

一 back scratches / massages ; jay, mashiho

these two radiate the strongest husband energy from their respective groups and i will die on this hill. not only do they do the cooking and the cleaning, they also check up on you through regular texts, smother you with affection and know exactly what you need and when you need it. the perfect men if those even existed, basically. they’re just always, always taking care of you. they think so much about your well-being that they sometimes forget their own, so when you offer to scratch their back to help them fall asleep or even a full-on back massage, especially if they’ve had a long day, they may burst into tears. or ask you to marry them right then and there. or both. you would probably have to fight jay to stop him from giving you one in return, though. i think mashiho is less mental than that, so he’d just gladly accept it and lay there, smiling contentedly.

一 lazy make-outs ; heeseung, jihoon, yedam

absolute menaces, the three of them. making out is like, their favorite way to hang out. they just can’t help themselves - if you’re around, they’re gonna want to have their lips on yours. and the setting is always so obvious, like a dimly-lit room with chill music playing in the background and a conveniently comfortable bed or couch nearby. yedam would invite you over to his studio, pretending he wanted you around while he worked on his music but actually just wanting to be able to kiss you. heeseung would use that movie you’d talked about as an excuse - the laptop would be discarded in ten minutes, but you wouldn’t complain anyway. to be honest, jihoon wouldn’t even try to come up with an excuse. this man will fuckboy-text you ‘u up?’ months into your relationship and show up at your house at random times of the day and night just cause he wants to make out. i wrote ‘lazy make-outs’ because they all give that chill vibe, cuddling or sitting on his lap, their hands resting on your lower back and your own in their hair or something like that. it could last for hours (with water breaks), they like it that much. they also like the moments when you take pauses and chat for a little bit, then get back to business. it’s all very chill but intimate, and they love the feel of you close to them.

一 literally anything but they’d rather die than tell you that ; asahi, sunghoon my two biases… either i have a type or i am projecting onto these men, we’ll never know! you could do anything to these two, as long as you’re not in public, they’d be completely fine with it. hold their hand, touch their hair, kiss their cheek, spank their butt, punch them in the face, if you’re touching them, they’re happy. they just like knowing that you’re being clingy and trying to get their attention. but they will never, ever tell you that. asahi, because he’s just shy like that and although he loves any crumb of affection from you, he neither knows how to tell you that nor how to reciprocate it. he’s trying, though. a kiss on your forehead from him is like a confession of his undying love for you, and if he back-hugs you, in his mind, you’re practically married. sunghoon, however… is a menace. you being clingy inflates his ego, and he will never not tease you about how much you love him and how needy you’re being, when in reality, if you spend ten minutes without kissing or touching him, he’s scared you’ve already moved on to someone else. sometimes you’ll get tired of his shit and want to ignore him for a little while. don’t do that, you’ll kill him. or worse - you’ll make him initiate the skinship, and the few times it’s happened, he almost didn’t survive it. he’s actually just a little shy, so you learn to put up with him. asahi and sunghoon are so cute anyway that you can look over things like that <3

permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sd211 @lalalalawon

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 5 months

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Ok ok so-

We all love our whumpee-turned-whumper and caretaker-turned-whumper BUT

HAVE WE CONSIDERED

Whumper-turned-whumpee and whumpee-turned-caretaker?

Idk I'm just obsessed with the idea of both of them being reluctant to fulfil their roles (ex-whumper doesn't want to accept help from ex-whumpee of all people and ex-whumpee still has nightmares, not that they would admit it)

But eventually someone budges, perhaps ex-whumper is in too much pain and practically begging, or ex-whumpee remembers what it feels like and is cursed with a strong moral compass and ultimately the roles are changed and it's a really awkward but almost therapeutic? situation.

Bonus points if ex-whumper is stuck recovering in ex-whumpee's house/apartment and learns all sorts of things about ex-whumpee that they never knew and begin to feel guilty for what they did because now ex-whumpee is a human making breakfast while scolding their pet with a bedroom full of model aeroplanes from when they were little.

Yeah I've been thinking about this a lot, sorry to bother you-

anon, you. get. it. 👏🏻

I don’t know if it’s an ‘unpopular opinion’ but personally, I always prefer whumper-turned-whumpee to whumpee-turned-whumper, because I think the vulnerability of whumper the moment they turn from whumper to whumpee is just so… delicious? I mean, the angst, the feels, and obviously the whump. most of my writing is whumper-turned-whumpee, so I’m just so happy that you feel it too. (obviously, the classic whumpee-turned-whumper is also great, I love the moment where the character no longer has to endure all the wrongdoings that were done to them and gives themself a well-deserved revenge, but I’ll always have a soft spot for whumper-turned-whumpee.)

and yes to whumpee-turned-caretaker too, as well as the reluctance both parties go through while trying to fulfill their new roles. whumper-turned-whumpee not being able to understand why whumpee-turned-caretaker is helping them. but more importantly, they don’t understand why they’re given this kindness because, after everything they’ve done, they simply don’t think they deserve kindness. but I mean, apart from the high moral compass, maybe whumpee-turned-caretaker also sees good in whumper-turned-whumpee, knows there’s good inside them and refuses to give up on them the way everyone else did.

yes. yes. yes.

*I also love me a delicious whumper-turned-caretaker trope, but that’s another story

**not a bother at all, love! I’ll always love discussing anything whump related xx

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queers-gambit · 2 years

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Dating Eddie Munson HC [part two]

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: can't get this boy outta my head, so, here's a few other headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie Munson.

warnings: cursing, female descriptions / pronouns (i think), this one's pretty tame. still proceed with maturity.

• you cannot convince me this boy doesn't, like, do everything in his power to put a smile on your face. cracking a (bad) joke, pulling a funny face, or acting like a klutz just to see that smile on your face.

• Eddie writes poems for you. maybe not full songs (even though a few have been about you) but he likes to write you actual poetry. it was the one unit he excelled in during English because he had an array of poems at his disposal.

• some poems were left in a journal, some on scrap pieces of paper then taped on his dresser's mirror, others written to you and sent in a letter.

• this man is big on hand-written letters. you like to read? he likes to write? it fucking works for you!! he'll write you a letter for anything, too.

• bullies got him fucked up? he was writing a letter to you that he might not send for weeks because he's still adding to it. it's therapeutic. and it's not that he's not telling you when things happen but it's sometimes hard to verbalize everything. so, he writes and one day, he'll slip it to you, "you don't have to respond to it, but I want you to know these things."

• and later that evening after you've read the letter, you're at his trailer, and crawling into his lap. he might be sitting on the couch because Wayne's at work already, hands holding your thighs and up to your hips as your hands smooth his hair back, off his face.

• and you'd tell him, "I love it when you're open with me. and I want you to know, your feelings are safe with me, however you need to express them." and all sorts of reassuring things, because you didn't want to offer too much sympathy because he didn't want pity, but instead assurance that his feelings are valid, and safe.

• but he sends you letters for other reasons, too! he doesn't need much of a reason to pick up a pen.

• you save each one. i don't need to explain this, right?

• he gifts you a silver ring of your own; maybe gets you one for every year you're together. but that doesn't stop you from stealing his on the occasion, let's be clear on that.

• because in my head, Eddie doesn't do short-term. he's in it for the long term, so, he likes to go all out for anniversary's. hence the rings.

• and he loves seeing your style and his meshed together in your outfits, remember? seeing you in some ripped jeans, one of his shirts? hair done, make-up poppin', nails manicured, with - oh - what's those? shining silver rings he got you? he might swoon a little.

• and holding hands when you're wearing your rings isn't 100% comfortable at first but you both get used to it. and he even might start to fiddle with your rings sometimes, too; either when anxious or just lost in thought, he'll gently spin one of your rings around your finger.

• skin to skin contact is still a must, but laying face-to-face while gently petting over his face as if to map out his features is just soul-soothing for the both of you. "everything's quiet when I'm with you," you tell him softly, voice barely above a whisper.

• and he smiles lightly, "what do you mean, quiet, sweetheart?"

• "everything in my head, all the bullshit going on in the world," you sigh as you trace over his chest tattoo, "it's quiet when I'm with you. everything's just... so much better with you, baby."

• ah, man - he melts. you hear me? he melts. he can't help but bring you in closer to press an excited kiss to your lips. and when he pulls back, he takes only a nano-second before he's kissing you again, and again.

• because he's elated to hear those words. and you make note of that by making it a habit to reassure him of his place in your life. his insecurities run deep but he's making real progress on that because you take deep satisfaction in assuring him of your love.

• I know I said stoner!boyfriend Eddie lets you paint his nails, but can we agree that boyfriend!Eddie in general will do that? great - so, you like to paint your nails, right? and sometimes, you can't choose a color and Eddie thinks it's really cute when you get that concentrated look on your face while trying to get an even coat.

• so, he doesn't mind you painting his fingernails. he'll often have to decide the color for you because you "just can't!"

• he might try his hand out with painting your nails, too. look, Eddie can get a few tattoo sketches down, why can't he master nail art?

• don't tell anyone but he definitely has a shoe box full of photos of you guys. he got a polaroid camera when you started dating and he tries to take at least one photo every date. it's a nice homage to your relationship.

• he leaves the camera in his car so he doesn't forget it. plus, he has his own personal collection of pictures of you in his passenger seat, so, win-win. oh, there goes my heart.

• when he's missing you or after you guys have a fight, he looks through that photo box. and oh, look! he's writing you another letter! he's a simp and my mind can't be changed.

• your heart gets warm when he calls you sweetheart. you're used to him calling you baby, and don't get me wrong, it's adorable. but when he drops sweetheart in lieu of your name, you're the one melting a little.

• and you're both always holding hands or your arm's around the others shoulders. like, constantly. he's not overly adamant on PDA but that boy doesn't feel right if you're close by and he's not touching you.

• there's a height difference. and he likes to pick on you for that. he's lanky, so let's say he's taller than you; and he never, ever lets you forget it. you'll try to reach something in the cabinet above the stove while you're cooking at your house, and here comes Eddie!

• he'd let one hand move around your waist to squeeze you into his side while the other grabbed whatever you needed, "woah there, small fry, careful! you might knock yourself over stretchin' like that."

• "you think you're funny, don't you?"

• but he is funny, the little shit. his jokes are mostly corny but because you guys have history, there's a lot of inside jokes that make you both go lightheaded from laughter.

• Eddie has social anxiety that's hidden behind this macho bravado but you can tell when he's feeling uneasy.

• it's sometimes easier to just slid your hand into his and mutter quietly, "squeeze my hand if you wanna go."

• you were always quick to come up with some excuse for your abrupt departure the moment you felt him squeeze your hand. it ranged from some excuse over dinner with your mom, maybe you have a sibling that needs picked up somewhere, or there's some extended family member coming into town. no matter what, when he squeezes, you're getting him out of there.

• when the anxiety passes, he's realizing he's dating his best friend and silently thanks God because you both just read each other. you both just get it.

• he calls you his little problem solver because it doesn't matter what's going on or what he's feeling, he can turn to you. confide in you. and you know it goes both ways because he's there for you no matter what.

• when you're sick, good luck getting Eddie to go to school. you'll phone him early in the morning and tell him your symptoms before insisting you'd just stay in bed; but he's already packing a bag to hang with you for the day.

• he'd come over with snacks and Gatorade (or something) because your parents already left for work. he doesn't care if he'll get sick, too; he'll crawl in bed with you and gently massage your scalp.

• Eddie doesn't like going to school if you're not there, so, he doesn't mind playing hookie. and he gets you anything you need because he's a sweetheart like that.

• yeah, you like forehead kisses - but he likes kissing your forehead.

• mixtapes! mixtapes! mixtapes! Eddie makes you mixtapes! just imagine he's out somewhere and finds himself bobbing his head along to some song, specifically asks for the name, so later, he adds it to a mixtape 'cause he thinks you'll like it, too.

• look, sometimes his emotions get the better of him and he communicates through music.

• so, sometimes, after a fight, you'll find a cassette tape left in your mailbox when you collect the mail that day. you know it's from him without a signature, but there's usually a scribbled note on the front of the case.

• I'm sorry for what I said. I hope this can help?

• and you listen to it all night. he'll come to pick you up in the morning for school and feel anxious you wouldn't want to see him, but just as he comes to a halt, you're heading out your door.

• you spend the morning talking about whatever upset the both of you before telling him how the music made you feel. he'll tell you what the songs made him feel, and that's how you sort through your feelings over certain fights.

• we know he kills the spiders but let's face it - you probably kill the rest of the creepy crawlies. you just don't do spiders... so, he's brave for the both of you, so as long as you're brave the other times and handle other bugs.

• Eddie stops to pet dogs. (so, you both stop when you're together).

• you like to bake. and Eddie likes your creations, so, he sometimes lets you rope him into helping if you promise him the first few bites of baked goods. he can burn water but under your eye, he actually kinda likes being in the kitchen - but he likes making you sweat, so, he'll continue to give you a hard time.

• younger siblings adore him. they think Eddie's funny, and he does those goofy voices when playing with them or reading them some story. Eddie doesn't mind getting down in the dirt with them. they want him to sit next to them at dinner.

• older siblings don't approve at first but they come around because let's face it, he tries to charm them since he's intimidated by them. and they think his efforts are cute that they cut him some slack.

• does Eddie let you braid his hair? only after a joint.

• maybe you first meet 'cause you're looking for a dealer.

• maybe you meet in middle school.

• maybe you meet his first senior year.

• maybe because it's both of your favorite holiday, you meet at a halloween event wearing either accidental matching costumes (so you kinda have to hang out all night and get to know the cutie) or you're wearing perfectly opposite costumes. so, again, how can you not hang out with him all night? it was fate, you were sure of it.

• or maybe you meet because you used to babysit Mike and / or Dustin, promising to give them a ride home after Hellfire and there's Eddie, waiting to make sure the newest members get in their ride. looking too cool for school as he leans on the side of the building, and he's not as smooth talking as he wants to be but you think he's still endearing.

• look, how common was it for Eddie to find you in his hoodie? pretty freaking common. they smelled like him and he started using that fabric softener you told him about that made the material soft, so, he was used to you entering his room, dropping your belongings, and snuggling your way into a hoodie.

• Eddie is the type of boyfriend that when you pass by in the lunch room, he's wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you into his lap; greeting you with kisses on the cheek. no matter if he saw you that morning, or an hour ago, he's just happy to see you.

• all right, so, about his smell. Eddie is overly conscious about his smell - so, daily showers. and he uses that cologne you complimented because his clothes smell like cigarette and weed smoke, and together, you think it smells kinda like home. when your nose is pressed to his skin, you don't really notice the smoke smell.

• you like both coffee and tea, so, Eddie learns how to make your favorite of both. he's cute. very, very cute.

• okay, so, he likes scary movies. he jumps at all the jump scares but he laughs after. you don't mind scary movies because it's an excuse to sit in Eddie's lap and press your nose into his neck.

• man, throw a blanket across across you fools and you'll actually fall asleep during a horror movie.

• okay, when you go out to eat, you both take turns ordering something neither of you have tried before. it's a simple way for you both to try new things and push your comfort bounds.

• he goes with you when you get your first tattoo, too. holds your hand, reassures you that you're doing great, has an opened bottle of water for you, and takes peaks as the tattoo progresses. he'd make cute jokes to distract you when you'd wince in annoyed pain.

• oh, man, the dates are just cute. they're not always conventional but you both look for any excuse to hang out.

• he likes to pinch your jaw and lift your attention up to your eyes (that height difference, man). then he'd kiss you and mutter, "don't know what I did to deserve you, but good job me."

• and yeah, I mentioned it before, but he's close with your family. like, to the point when you need an extra team member for family game night, Eddie's rolling in with more flowers for your Mom and maybe a pack of candy for your sibling(s).

• let's just imagine Eddie at family meals please. he's offering to fill your plate when the peas come your way, refilling your Mom's wine glass, and teasingly taking your Dad's side during arguments.

• he'd be invited to the Christmas vacation! and he'd blush because wow - your family really accepts him. he has heart eyes the whole time.

• he's the type that takes whatever is in your hands to hold for you, too. backpack, binders, shopping bags, (sometimes) your purse, that one time he came into your job and saw you moving an inventory box - he swooped in and took it from you.

• "what're you doin' movin' something this heavy, princess? I got it, I got it."

• this boy melts when your nails rake over his back, shoulders, and obviously his scalp.

• and Eddie's the type to kiss you at any given opportunity. we know he reminds you he loves you constantly but he also looks for any opening to kiss you.

• when he gets angry, he worries that he's scared you. you never are, and you tell him as such, but he still knows that he can get intense. so, he'd take some time to just be in your presence (usually with his hands somewhere on you) before he's trying to explain why he had the kind of reaction he did.

• you appreciated the communication, so, you listened and tried to understand, empathize. your job isn't to judge him.

• he often uses his fingers to press into your cheeks. he likes to poke and hold them, sometimes squeezing to pucker your lips. oh, man, this boy is almost always touching you - it's so cute. damn it.

• Eddie's perfect, okay? cool.

requesting rules and masterlist

ST masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanon #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fanfic

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thirstydiglett · 2 months

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How the straw hats comfort you on bad mental health days

Here, have something shamelessly self-indulgent.

LUFFY

Hugs, hugs, hugs, and more hugs. The second he finds out you’re struggling, the dude will not let go of you. He keeps telling you how you’re his close friend, how important to the crew you are, etc until you finally start to feel better. You know how utterly safe you are in Luffy’s arms, and it calms you down.

ZORO

Zoro has a hard time expressing himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to see you having a rough time and do nothing about it. He’ll likely offer to train with you—Zoro knows the power of exercise to help mental health, and he’ll guide you through some workouts that will really help you feel stronger and happier.

USOPP

We know Usopp loves to tell stories, and he’ll regale you with one of his best—even if you can’t muster up the energy to respond much. He knows you’re listening, and he knows his silly adventure tale is warming you up inside. He just loves making you happy god dammit 😭

SANJI

Not only will Sanji cook you all your favorite dishes, he’ll simply…stay by your side as much as you need it all day long. He’s there at your service for anything you need, of course, but he also knows the value in simply making you feel safe and protected. He’ll chat softly with you, distracting you from the negative thoughts, and if you let him he’ll put a gentle arm around you.

NAMI AND ROBIN

I think our lovely ladies would offer to take a bath in the bathhouse together—not as anything sexual, just a bonding activity. You all sit in the warm water, enjoy the spa treatment and talk about shared trauma and steps you’ve taken to improve things. They’re proud of you, and they want you to know it.

CHOPPER

Chopper would not only find the perfect balance of medicinal herbs to soothe your symptoms, he’d also take you out for chocolate sundaes and cotton candy! Chopper knows the value in a little something sweet to help heal the heart. He just listens to you as you both eat your ice cream, offering therapeutic advice where you ask for it.

FRANKY

Franky is the type to distract you from the mental health issues by drawing you into a project. Maybe he suddenly needs your help designing a new workbench, or maybe he just wants to do your hair. He draws you into something new and interesting and watches your anxiety fade as you work together.

BROOK

Brook, obviously, writes you a song!! It’d something warm and cheerful, but still acknowledging your strength and bravery as you fight through your mental illness. If you play a musical instrument, maybe the two of you jam together, writing something entirely new and your own.

JINBEI

He’s a meditator. He’ll instruct you to lay in the shade of Nami’s trees and breathe deeply. He’ll slowly launch into a gentle guided meditation, reminding you how safe and unconditionally loved you are. By the time he finishes, you feel as if you are melting into the grass—safe and sound.

BONUS

LAW

At first, Law tries to ignore the problem—he figures it might go away by itself, even though the worry bites in the back of his head. By the time he realizes something is truly wrong, he is the most sweet and attentive man in the world. He listens to you, he holds you close to him, he helps you do the things you’re unable to. He is unbelievably protective of you, not letting the crew get close unless you say it’s ok.

ACE

Ace is the type to try and cheer you up by bringing you along with him on some sort of ridiculous adventure. His goal is to make you see the world from a new angle, to reset your brain by giving it something new to process. If that doesn’t work, he’s happy to light a fire in the hearth, wrap an arm around you, and keep you nice and warm while he regales you with stories from other adventures (and he’s had many, many adventures).

SABO

Man, Sabo GETS. IT. You can’t look me in the eye and tell me this man doesn’t have some kind of disorder. He’s gonna slowly talk you through your symptoms and work on healing you one at a time. I have a feeling he’d be very affectionate with you as well, no matter what your relationship is like. Oh, and he’ll offer to fight anything that could have possibly triggered you. He’ll fucking do it too. Burn down half the island for you if he has to.

CORAZON

If you’re on Doflamingo’s crew, this man’s number one priority is keeping you safe so Doffy doesn’t see your “weakness”. He’ll come up with some excuse to keep you confined to an extra-safe space, then he’ll throw on his silent and put on your favorite bad TV show to watch together. You two will be howling by the end of it, and eventually you’ll fall asleep snuggled on his chest, feeling very safe and loved.

#one piece #straw hats #Nico Robin #luffy #zoro #sanji #nami #tony tony chopper #usopp #soul king Brook #jinbei #la #trafalgar d Law #portgas d ace #Sabo #Corazon

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mageofseven · 1 year

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MC Talking about Trauma they Experienced (Luce, Dia, Satan, Beel & Belphie)

Edit: this has been in my drafts for a while now. I started this one day when my depression was really bad and this was actually very therapeutic to write.

However, I got super emotionally exhausted from it and sort of abandoned it and since then, I've been debating whether to finish it, delete it, or post it as is.

After some thinking, I decided to add another character or so to the post and then post it.

Please, please check the trigger warnings below and do not read anything you can't handle.

Please protect yourself and always check for trigger warnings.

Now everything below this message is what I wrote originally that night.

Stay safe and if you do still read this, thank you for your time!~

~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted to write this because it's been on my mind; I'm autistic so I tend to have zero filter and over share things, but often in a nonchalant way, like I'm telling you about a cat I saw outside and not about things I talk to my therapist about on a weekly basis.

Basically, this is a post where MC shares bad memories (whether in an upset or nonchalant way) and we see how the Boys react.

So like, angst ahead, but the kind that might hit too close to home for some people.

I'll keep it all below the cut so you don't have to read anything potentially triggering for you if don't want to.

TW: physical abuse, emotional manipulation, child abuse, alcoholism, parents with anger issues

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer:

"MC, we're not having that for dinner for the 4th night this week."

"But...what will I eat then?"

The man sighed.

"I don't know. I'll have to figure something out." He told them. "Honestly, meal planning would be a lot easier without your food sensitivities."

The human stared into space, mind seemingly far away.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow before stepping closer.

"MC? Is something wrong, Love?"

"I'm remembering the time my mom slapped me on the face at a community barbeque in front of everyone there because she wasted money on buying me a ticket for an event without any food I could eat; I ran away and hid so I could cry and hyperventilate without people judging me."

His eyes widened.

"When did this happen?"

The human shrugged.

"I dunno. A few years back." They guessed. "I didn't get to have any food at all that day because my mom was so mad at me."

Lucifer took their hand and squeezed it.

"Well, you aren't with your mother anymore." The man smiled bitterly before adding. "I suppose we could just order pizza for tomorrow's dinner."

"No peppers? No olives?" The human asked, surprised.

"No peppers, no olives." He nodded.

"No iguana eyes? No anglerfish lantern?"

"None." He promised, despite knowing Beel's disappointment at the last two toppings not being on the pizza.

MC smiled and squeeze their boyfriend's hand back.

"Thank ya, Luce~"

The man's smile became softer.

He made a mental note to ask for Barbatos' help with finding more foods his Love can eat, but for now, the demon just didn't want MC thinking back on such horrible memories.

Like always, Luce just wanted to treat his Love how they deserved and not how they've always been treated.

Diavolo:

The two were discussing the prince's relationship with his currently deep-slumbering father.

It wasn't a topic Dia liked to speak about, but as his relationship with MC deepened, he found himself confiding in her with things he used to avoid discussing.

"...so in fairness, maybe we were never going to be close, considering the circumstances."

MC looked away, tears in their eyes.

"My Queen..." Diavolo brought his hand to their cheek. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to upset you with this."

MC shook their head.

"No, its not you." They told their boyfriend. "I just...I kinda relate in a a way..."

The prince brought the human into arms before kisskng their forehead.

"I can tell you have something in mind to share; you can share it with me."

MC was quiet for a moment before nodding.

"Once when I was a kid, we had a speaker come to class to teach us about child abuse. They handed out these pamphlets and explained to us that if our parents do any of the stuff that we talked about that day then we could call a number in the pamphlet..."

The demon tightened his embrace around them, not liking where this story was headed.

"I...I remember learning that a lot of stuff my parents did to me and my siblings was bad," They continued. "So I went home and told my parents that a speaker came to school and he told me that if they keep doing bad things and mistreat me that I could call the number on the paper..."

The human's tears fell down their cheeks, followed by Dia kissing them away.

"My Queen..."

"Ya know what they said to me?" They asked rhetorically. "They said 'Do it. I dare you'. Told me those people would take me and my siblings away, put us in foster care and split us up. That I would never see them or my brother or sister or my grandparents or anyone that I loved ever again...and told me they wouldn't even care, that they could just 'make another just like me' and that I would be responsible for my siblings' and my own suffering while my parents would just be happy to get rid of me."

The prince pulled MC into a tighter embrace as they cried.

"I wanted a good relationship with my parents so badly, but how do you become close with people who tell you at such a young age that you are replaceable and a burden they didn't even want?"

"You don't." He said softly in their ear as he stroked their hair. "Your parents were miserable people who never deserved having you as their child; they made sure of that."

The man leaned back to look them in the eyes.

"My Queen...I'm sorry you went through that. Please remember that you didn't deserve it though."

MC nodded.

"I...I know. Logically anyway...but it doesn't feel true, ya know?"

"Oh MC..."

Diavolo took the rest of the day off work, regardless of any urges or reminders from Barbatos.

This man wanted so desperately to comfort his beloved and heal the hole in her heart.

Still, the man knew there was not much he could do for the latter; this was just something his Queen had to work through on their own.

That wasn't going to stop this man from showering them love and reminding them just how perfect and sweet they are to him.

Satan:

Satan had gotten into an argument with Lucifer, resulting in one of his fits of rage.

They were so rare now of days; this was essentially the oldest bringing up the wrong thing at the wrong time and pushed it too far

Causing Satan to destroy half of the living room and the two 'brothers' screaming at one another.

This went on for a while till the two men noticed the human in the corner hyperventilating.

That knocked the blonde out of his anger real quick as he raced to their side.

Lucifer allowed the argument to pause for now, considering the human's condition, and so left them be.

Eventually, MC calmed down enough and launched themself into their boyfriend's arms.

"I'm sorry..." He spoke softly into their ear. "I shouldn't have lost control like that...especially in front of you."

MC shook their head within his arms before sniffling.

"It's not you..." They mumbled. "When the crashing started...I-I just...I didn't see you...I didn't see House of Lamentation..."

"What do you mean, Kitten?" He stroked their hair before pulling back to meet their eyes.

"I...I was in my head." They explained. "It reminded me of a time when I was a kid...my dad was drunk and got angry at my little brother. I...didn't see what happened, but I heard curses and crashes and my brother begging him to stop...and I didn't save him. I didn't save him. I hid in the kitchen and sobbed with my arms over my head, begging for him to stop in my mind but not being able move or even speak..."

"Kitten..." Satan hugged them tightly to his chest again. "You're not there; you're here with me and you're safe."

"But my brother--"

"You would have just gotten hurt too." He told them. "You were a child just trying to to survive. It's not your fault."

"But--"

"It's not your fault." He repeated.

This time, the human just closed their eyes and hung their head.

Satan picked them up and carried the human to their room; the...scare, I guess you could call it, had really tired his partner out.

He laid his Kitten on their bed and kissed their forehead.

Satan vowed to never himself lose control in front of them ever again.

Even if this time it had less to do with what he did and more about something they experienced long ago, the wrath demon needed to keep himself in check so he never brought such bad memories to his Kitten's head again.

Beel & Belphie:

The human went on a walk with the twins and, as per usual, Beel made a stop at Madam Screams to get a few dozen pastries.

Beel carried all of the bags of sweets himself and, no matter how often MC saw him carry so much food and never drop any of it, it still amazed the human.

"Dang, that's even more than yesterday..." Belphie commented. "Did you already spend all of your grimm this month?"

"Almost." The gluttony shrugged, still not dropping a single bag.

Suddenly, MC's steps slowed till they were frozen in place.

"-C? MC?" Belphie called to them.

The human slowly raised their gaze up at the men.

"You okay, Muffin?" Beel asked, concern evident on his face.

MC nodded.

"I was remembering one of the fights my parents had when I was a little kid." They explained calmly. "My dad spent over a $1,000 at the bar in a week 'cause he kept buying his friends drinks. Mama told him that he can't keep doing that because they were barely able to put food on the table as things were; Dad yelled at her for telling him what to do and Mom yelled back that she hopes he ends up dead in a ditch somewhere--what?"

The human was genuinely confused by the two demons, who stared at her with a mix of shock and pity.

Belphie shook his head.

"Let's just get home, butthead."

And with that, both twins wrapped an arm around them protectively

Causing Beel to drop two of his bags.

Still, the tallest demon never looked back as he and his brother took their human home, a place where hopefully better memories will come to their mind.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #TRIGGER WARNING #pleass be careful #⚠️

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hiccupfound · 1 month

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On Hermione killing Draco in Jagged

i’ve always wanted to give my explanation for this, but i fell out of fandom before i got the chance. tonight i was scrolling on my fandom tumblr, trying to find a gif to show my brother and sister in law, and i passed a jagger excerpt. one thing led to another, and i ended up reading the chapter after draco came back. (ch 30 i think?)

i know that some people were truly outraged on my choice to have draco murdered. a lot of people claimed it was out of character, and there’s a good amount of evidence for that, sure, but i think there’s a fair amount of evidence to show that it’s just as much in character as well.

originally, draco was supposed to live. originally, drarry was going to be end game. originally, abraxas was never supposed to come back to 1998, but sometimes you write the narrative and sometimes it writes itself. jagged was the story that taught me that maybe i’m not an outline type of author, because the final product deviated from the original idea so much that it was more frustrating than helpful.

admittedly, very much of the writing in jagged was therapeutic for me. a lot of hermione’s inner dialogue, self hatred, and “selflessness” are things i either see in myself or wish i could be. she’s far from a perfect character, but she’s powerful, level headed and smart. she doesn’t have many weaknesses revealed, not even when we spend half the story in her point of view. tom makes note of that several times when we get to his pov— that he has hermione on this pedestal, that she seems like some sort of impenetrable force.

but at the end of the day— hermione has dealt with extremely traumatizing situations that she had spent the better part of a year repressing. not only that, she was thrown back into 1998 quite suddenly, and even though we don’t see it in tom’s pov, it’s not hard to imagine how triggering that must be. hermione can put on a mask of indifference but at the end of the day that’s all it is— a mask.

i knew very early on that i was choosing the route of a dark order. the order has always been dark (its war, there’s really no moral high ground, despite what harry was brainwashed into thinking).

i felt very particular about how i wanted to pull this off. i didn’t want it to seem sudden or out of the blue. i also didn’t necessarily want “dark” to mean evil, because i feel like in jagged each and every character can be made out to be evil if you break down their actions in different lights. (this is a completely different essay)

draco’s betrayal was always a very dark spot for hermione. it brought on torture that she wore as proof of his disloyalty in her skin everyday. regardless of his actions or his orders, she thought this for years. she built resentment on it. is it logical for this resentment to play a part in her decision once she knows the truth? absolutely not. but that’s the thing, the moment draco steps into grimmauld place, logic has taken a backseat in hermione’s brain. she’s riding purely on emotions. she knows this, and yes, she has the wherewithal to recollect herself if she wanted to. but she doesn’t. it’s like she told remus. draco is her line.

second, hermione would have never, ever watched draco be tortured. damn the plan, damn the betrayal. she would have died to stop it. she would have gotten them both killed, probably. the point is, she couldn’t have lived with herself if she stood for hours and watched it happen. and with that knowledge, and knowing the pain she suffered through and that draco was able to stomach watching it the entire time… well, it was enough for her to not want him around anymore.

also, this was a last stitch effort for remus to prove his loyalty to her. i didn’t realize it at the time, but hermione and remus’s relationship mirrors jude’s and her step father’s from the cruel prince quite a bit. if you haven’t read it, (what are you waiting for?) the main thing you need to know is that they have an endlessly complicated, painful relationship wherein the love they have for each other is not stronger than their need to fight for what they believe is the greater good.

hermione viewed remus like a father, but that wasn’t a one sided relationship. remus loved hermione endlessly like he would his own child.

yet he still took a “calculated” risk. she was tortured and almost killed because of a decision he made. a decision he never planned on telling her about.

remus says he would do it again. and hermione knows it’s the truth, and in some ways she respects him for it. she’ll always be a soldier at heart. but it also solidifies his spot in her life as someone that will never, ever be family to her again. because hermione wouldn’t risk remus’s life for anything.

so she uses draco as leverage. remus sees draco as mostly innocent. his life lies in remus’s hands. he has to choose. hermione’s side, or draco’s life. it’s vindictive, yes, but hermione has just spent the past 4 years using manipulation to get what she wants. as a reader, it’s not a side of her we get to see a lot (aside from when she’s torturing michael, which admittedly, was meant to be foreshadow to this exact moment)

as an author i could have done a better job throwing in more unpredictable or emotional behavior on her part. but at the time, i really wanted this to be a turning point, not just for the order, but for hermione herself. this is kind of her first selfish decision in a long time. the first time she chooses something simply because it’s what she wants. as readers you may say, “her selfish act was to take a life?!” and to that i say, yes. yes it was.

i wanted hermione to be irrational just because. i wanted her to take her power and abuse it a little. we read stories about strong female characters with endless powers who fight and win big wars just to settle at the end in the name of morality or being the better person.

i didn’t want hermione to settle. i wanted hermione angry because she deserved to be.

of course there are arguments against why she didn’t, and of course logicially killing draco wasn’t the decision that made sense. but that’s the thing, hermione is a flawed character. she doesn’t (and won’t) make all her decisions based on logic.

women deserve to be angry. women don’t need to forgive.

jagged hermione doesn’t need to explain why she wanted draco dead, but as an author, i wanted to.

#dramione #tomione #jagged #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

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anisecandy · 11 months

Text

Why won't you listen

Chapter 1

(continuation of the "Why won't you just take your time" and "Why won’t you just go one step at a time?")

Summary: After Peter’s efforts to learn more about his partners lead to a big quarrel, Eddie and the Symbiote learn some new things about themselves as well.

Rating: T

Words count: 5,242

Genre: Developing Relationship

Parings: Peter Parker/Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote

Author's note:

So, two things.

1. You know, I initially wrote this just for myself, with no intention of posting it. I simply wanted to explore a kink I found interesting. But then a mutual of mine mentioned posting a fic with foot fetish annnd I kind of felt less embarrassed of what I wanted to write about here. But that meant I had to scrape... 90% of what I already wrote? Since it was good enough for myself, but way too ooc for anybody else. While changing the concept and polishing it... I ended up with a piece that was way more serious than I planned. So I decided to split it into two chapters! The first is like PG-13, and explores character dynamics. The second is still being written, but is gonna be just kink lol. So the tags and the rating WILL change! But I'm really happy with how that first part turned out and as such I wanted more people to be able to read it ^^

2. The previous works in this series are sort of, therapeutic guilty pleasure for me. "I wish people talked to each other more!!" kind of fics. And I like that about them! But with this one, I tried to do my best to keep the canon level of the characters emotional intelligence, ability to communicate, etc. Which means they act differently than in previous parts! I wrote those like- A year ago...? So I think I understand Eddie and Peter, and, of course Symby, more now!

Link to the work on ao3

“We’re not doing this,” Eddie said for what seemed like the hundredth time and Peter could feel himself losing patience.

"Look, if you're uncomfortable-"

"With the fact that you need exposure therapy to get accustomed to our visage?" The corner of Eddie's mouth twitched. "Maybe a little."

Peter couldn't help but scowl at those words. He crossed his arms.

"Well that's not exactly my fault, is it."

The way Eddie cringed made him feel a bit guilty, but he was in the right here. Which was why it was so frustrating how reluctant his partner(s) was acting right now. Especially since the previous instance of, how he put it, "exposure therapy" was his own idea.

"Why are you being so difficult about this?" He huffed.

Eddie made a face.

"Let us ask you a better question; why did you bring your whole lab to our bedroom?" He pointed accusingly to hills of messy bed sheets, between which shined glass and metal of the instruments Peter set up. There were only six of them, hardly varanting such theatrical descriptions.

"Oh, would you stop that, you melodramatic baby," Peter rolled his eyes. "You can't tell me you're scared of a pair of gloves and a magnifying glass."

"What about those little doohickeys?"

A set of tweezers, syringes and a laboratory scalpel was shoved into his face. Eddie held them like damning evidence, with a look of utter dismay.

"That's for a better examination," he replied smoothly.

"Exami-" Eddie eyed the sharp surgical steel with disbelief. “So you have gotten bored of dissecting frogs with kids and decided to cut us up instead?"

"Of course not," Peter scoffed. "Neither of those is any more dangerous than a spatula at a dentist's office."

As much as Peter would like this to close the discussion, Eddie didn't seem a shard less defensive than he was seconds ago. The way he glared at the tools, you'd think one of them spit on his mother's grave. He threw them back on the bed, sending one of the scalpels flying. Peter's arm shot to catch it on instinct, before it fell to the floor, but his eyes stayed still. Eddie returned his annoyed gaze with an unyielding stare of his own.

"You will put those things back where you got them from and we won't be talking about it anymore," he said eventually, before getting up with the intention of walking away from any further arguments.

A groan left Peter's mouth, as he dragged a hand over his face.

"Come on, it's not like I'm intending to-" he mimicked pulling on gloves and poking around in a pile of gore, dr. Frankenstein's style. "I just want to learn more about you guys!"

"Then invite us for coffee," Eddie snarled over his shoulder. "We're free on friday."

At this point, Peter started to believe he was doing it on purpose, just to spite him. Wouldn't be the first time.

"You know that's not what I mean!"

The only response he got was the click of the lock closing in the frame. His teeth gritted as he chewed on a few choices of adjectives. In the end though, he only let out a huff. Then he stood up and followed through the door.

He found Eddie in the living room, picking up his bag, all but ready to head home. He grabbed one of the handles, before he could turn toward the exit.

"Why are you so against it?"

"Why are you so up for it?" Eddie's eyebrows raised on his forehead in an unimpressed manner.

"I swear to- I want to just do more of what we did last week!" Exasperation couldn't be more apparent in his voice if he tried, as he spread his arms. "Okay? That's it. That's literally it, just minus the sex part. Look-" He paused, to get back his composure. Maybe they were just having a miscommunication happening. Maybe Eddie was just getting something wrong and not being a contrarian for the heck of it. "When we... Sort of broke the transformation in steps and I could like... Understand some things better. Take a closer look at them. That helped, okay? I just want things to work for us. Between us"

Contrary to what he expected, or rather, hoped for, this only seemed to anger Eddie even more. He bent down to properly face him, but his gaze was cold and teeth bared threateningly.

"Those aren't the same," he stated firmly.

"But they are."

"No, Peter," he stressed so much that the words seemed to scratch his throat. "It's nothing alike. That and agreeing to be a specimen for you couldn't be further apart."

"You're not-"

Peter almost choked, as his breath froze in a hard lump just over his lungs. He gaped at them, seeking to see if Eddie, if they actually meant to say this. The ice in his eyes left little room for guessing.

"You're not a specimen," he finished softly. "You're my partners."

"Oh, so you ask all your dates for blood samples?"

The tone of Eddie's voice contrasted sharply against his. It was like a knife to the conversation and Peter found himself glancing away, in spite of himself.

"Thought so," Eddie remarked bitterly, driving the point all the way.

One pull was enough to free his bag from Peter's hand. The grip he held on it before turned incidental at best, making the action closer to untangling it from a branch than fighting a person. Once his fingers were no longer hooked over the fabric, his arms fell listlessly.

And when Eddie turned around and left, he let him.

They avoided Peter for the next few days. If Eddie could have his way, it would be even longer. No matter the excuses his Other provided for Peter's behavior, he found himself rejecting each one. Still, the wednesday after their quarrel (Although, Eddie thought bitterly, it wasn't really "quarreling" as much as one of the sides blatantly disregarding personhood of the other side) they almost ran into him during a night stroll over the rooftops. It wasn't much of a coincidence - the paths of their routines were planned with the intention of staying out of each others' ways most of the time. Their styles of helping people and dealing with the criminals didn't mesh well, to say the least. Even so, there were a few crossing points between them. Just enough to occasionally check on the other, maybe once or twice a week, to ask about the night, exchange iloveyous and a couple of kisses. They took this route so many times that Eddie didn't even register that they were heading to one of the crossings out of habit, until he saw the burning red of Peter's costume less than hundred feet away.

The moment he realized his mistake, he flattened themselves against the wall, hoping the other man didn't see them approach. As the Symbiote began to change colors to blend in with the shadows spreaded among the tenement houses, he let out a quiet hiss.

"I can't believe I was this distracted..." He mumbled and clicked his tongue. "Why didn't you stop us from coming here?"

Hoped to see Peter.

"Well, I did not. I don't want to see him, until he'll apologize to us."

How? Would have to talk for that, first.

"He has a phone," Eddie grumbled.

They both knew Peter wrote over twenty messages asking them to meet up.

Not that it had any bearing on Eddie’s thoughts on the matter.

Unaware of the dispute happening right under his nose, Peter stayed mostly motionless on the roof. He didn’t appear too focused tonight, sitting with his legs casually dangling over the edge instead of his usual crouched down position, allowing him to quickly sprout into the action. A more attentive glance discovered that he even had a thermos standing right beside him. When he reached to drink from it, a cloud of steam escaped from under the cap. Nothing unusual, considering that November was approaching fast. Nonetheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he probably planned to stay in this spot for a longer while.

Seems to be waiting.

"For what? The reckoning?" Eddie hissed grumpily.

Place of meetings, the Symbiote stirred, reminding him. When he didn't react (not counting an eye roll), it gently nudged at his heart. Let's go to him.

"Why?"

Let's talk. Peter's here to talk.

"As if!" He scoffed, ostentatiously looking away.

His first thought was to immediately leave, to which the Symbiote intensely protested. He didn't reply to its insistence. It already knew his stance on the matter well enough. With little hesitation, he got ready to leave, just when a high pitched scream cut through the muffled sounds of the nightlife.

Peter's head jerked up as if tugged by an invisible wire. In a heartbeat he launched himself into the river of lights, circulating under his feet. Their eyes followed him to a point, but he disappeared out of their line of sight the moment they blinked. They stared at the corner store by which it happened for a few seconds, before Eddie turned away.

"Looks like we won't be talking to him either way," he said, seemingly lightly.

The Symbiote was like a small, barely felt tide over his skin. Despite its mellow nature, to his slight surprise he recognized determination in its movements.

Will be back, it said without a trace of doubt.

He wrinkled his nose at it, before glancing back in the corner store's direction.

"Unlikely," he assessed. "Now that a crime has happened, he'll surely relocate, or even go home."

Will be back.

"For the thermos, maybe."

Will resume waiting. Wants to meet.

"He's probably here by chance," he insisted. "I guarantee you, if he'll return here, he'll get moving right away."

But he didn't.

Just like the Symbiote foresighted, Peter soon perched back down by his abandoned drink. He shook his right hand a few times, cracked his fingers and stretched, but that was all the "moving" he appeared to have planned for the closest future, slumping slightly in his seat. After a minute or so, he even started humming.

The two of them observed him from the shadows. Eventually, the Symbiote chimed in.

Will go talk now, right?

That pulled on the strings of Eddie's contrarian nature, making him carefully slide down the wall, with the intention to quietly disappear into the night. But the moment he shot a line of webbing at the nearest building and jumped, following its pull, the web started to melt. With eyes wide and a feeling of betrayal ringing in his chest, he crashed on the balcony below.

The loud thud of body hitting the concrete obviously reached Peter's ears, and he jumped up to a low crouch, scanning his surroundings and ready to pounce into the action. His eyes reached them the moment the Symbiote decided to abandon their camouflage. No honor among super villains. How typical. As soon as he saw their bulky silhouette ungracefully spreaded over the floor, the tension left his shoulders. If it wasn't for the mask he pulled down as soon as he suspected danger, he would be probably sending them now one of his most obnoxious grins.

"Gee, I wanted to ask if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but damn, this looks like one mighty crash," he said cheerfully.

"Oh can it, will you," Eddie grouched, scrambling to his feet.

For a few seconds he stood undecided. He still wasn't in the mood to deal with Peter's overall callousness, not to mention that his Other's treachery left him quite bitter. It was on its behalf that he was angry, and yet... To think that it was so eager to let Peter treat it (both of them) like a curious experiment (to put under a microscope, to test, to prod with needles, to cut up and-).

Peter wouldn't do that...

Despite its words, he could sense hesitation revibrating through its tentacles wrapped around his brain. It was hope rather than certainty and he was baffled that it offered him even that much. Because Peter... Peter was many things. A hero — sure, by a certain definition. Their lover, as of late. Most importantly though, for the time being, a scientist. And they didn't trust scientists one bit.

Peter was still watching them, seemingly nonchalant but vigilant; his arms hanging propped by elbows on his knees. But they knew him well enough to notice the strain in his back and legs. He didn't know what to do either. It was a little funny to think of. He probably waited here for a few hours already. And through all this time, he didn't figure out what to start with.

Maybe that was why eventually Eddie just let out an angry sigh and climbed the wall, to reluctantly sit beside him. Many things, right, but in the end, this was Peter, first and foremost.

Well, that and the fact that he would have felt as if he was running away if they left now. And that just wouldn't do.

"Want some soup?" Peter asked after a minute or so of over-stretched silence , ready to snap.

"So now you're not only providing the adventurous thiefs with clothing, but with food as well?" Eddie tilted their head to the right, letting their tongue fully roll out. "Truly, Spider, your generosity must know no bounds."

The other man shrugged, pouring a portion into the cup anyway, despite receiving no answer.

"I don't always take a thermos with me. I mean, usually I'm on the move, so the cold doesn't get to me, but yesterday my butt nearly froze to the roof, so... Yeah."

They could tell Peter wanted them to ask if he was waiting here yesterday as well. For how long, preferably. If they threw in a few "oh"s and "aw"s regarding the replies, of course accompanied by a look saying "poor you! you've endured for us so much! you're so poor, and sweet and everything else doesn't matter and is in the past!", then he'd probably feel as if everything was right in the world again.

He and Peter couldn't be more different, but the similarities they did share were some of the most annoying traits a human being could possibly have. Not that Eddie ever allowed himself to consciously acknowledge that.

The cap hung in the air, filling it with a steady stream of deliciously smelling steam. Venom eyed it with an unreadable expression. Taking it would mean, while maybe not straight up accepting an olive branch, at the very least willingness to do so, additionally on Peter's terms. The Symbiote wished to reach for it. Eddie would rather eat his own journalist notepad.

"One of Aunt May's best works," Peter almost sang the "o", shifting the weight of the cap in his hand and making the soup shimmer appetizingly.

Well, damn it.

Without a word(or eye-contact), they took the offered food. Again, they could sense Peter was smiling. They took a sip.

"...And here we were, beginning to think your words could actually be trusted," they said under their breath.

Peter raised up his arms defensively.

"Hold on there, I've never specify if I meant she cooked it... Or provided the recipe." The murderous look they sent him only made him laugh. "Come on, it's still pretty good, no?"

"It's...," A grimace formed on their face, but in the end Eddie couldn't find it in himself to lie. "Serviceable."

Another moment passed between them in silence. The Symbiote creeped down Eddie's face, allowing them to blow at the hot soup. While their (Eddie's) eyes stayed fixed on the cap, the whirling biomass "glanced" at Peter. He pulled the mask up for drinking, but the upper half of his face was still obscured, making it impossible to know if he was glancing their way too.

After a few more minutes filled with nothing but the sounds of the city flowing under their feet, Peter cleared his throat. His fingers drummed over the metal of thermos. The hollow sound vibrating through it made the Symbiote tense. Even after all this time, it still stayed a bit wary about the noises reminding it of the chiming bells.

“A pretty calm night we’re having, eh?” Peter prompted carefreely, as if he managed to drain the nervousness off his voice and magazine all of it in his restless hands.

They just stared at him, until he shifted uncomfortably in his place and sat the thermos down, to further wiggle his fingers.

“Right,” he mumbled, before letting out a sigh. “Right.” He put his hands into a small pyramid, tapping its top against his chin, as he rocked slightly back and forth. “Look… I… Well. I didn’t think you would treat my suggestion this seriously. And… get this upset.”

Eddie’s lips stretched down, exposing teeth. The strands of symbiote surrounding his neck like a collar began to draw up, billowing anxiously.

“Is this an exordium to an apology?” Eddie asked sharply.

“A wh-? Well, I guess-”

“Because if so,” he cut him off with a glare. “Then we’d advise you to start over, as this is the worst one we’ve had the displeasure of ever hearing.”

At the very last, they got his full attention. Peter's head snapped to face them. The yellow street lights reached the bottom of the eyes of his mask. Despite all reason, the color didn't seem warm at all, after resting on their mirror-like surface.

“What do you want me to do?” The irritation, previously pushed to the back, now started to bleed through, saturating his voice with a much more familiar hue.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know! That's why I'm asking!”

“Oh, you don’t?" Eddie's eyes narrowed, and he leaned into Peter's personal space, ultimately breaking the balance keeping the moment from falling into another fighting ring. "Then why won’t you cut a piece of us and put it under a microscope, hm? After all, that’d be the best way to understand us, no?”

Since the bottom of Peter's maska was resting on his nose bridge, they could see how his lips pressed into an almost white line, to the sound of teeth grinding against each other.

“For the- I’ve already said I’m sorry!”

“No, no you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did!”

“All you said was that we’re over-sensitive.”

“I don’t- that’s not what I meant.”

“No?”

“No! I-" Peter paused, to take a deep breath. He rested his palms down, and gripped the edge of the roof, bending down, as if in hope that swallowing the coldness of the night would cool him down. "Just. I’m sorry if you think what I said was… I don’t know, hurtful, alright?”

Hearing those words, the Symbiote let go of Eddie's lungs, to which it was clinging up until now and landed in a pile below his stomach. It bubbled up a little in relief.

Apologized. Okay now, no?

But apparently it was alone in its feelings.

"Hurtful, he says," Eddie let out a curt laugh, startling it. "If isn't that an amusing way to put it." His eyes, when he turned toward Peter were anything but amused. "Just tell it to us straight. You think we're over-reacting."

Eddie! Apologized! No need for this!

Its protests had as much influence on the ongoing scene as the wind blowing over the empty roofs.

"I," Peter forced through clenched teeth, "really don't feel like doing this tonight."

"Do you think we're over-reacting, Peter?" Eddie repeated, placing every word as if he was slamming steel font into paper.

"Maybe I do!" Peter finally snapped. "Maybe I do, in fact, think you're blowing things out of proportion, maybe I do think it's absurd that you're acting as if I want to vivisect you, maybe I am a bit upset that you've been ignoring me and acting as if I did something absolutely unforgivable, when I just asked to take some samples! Yeah, maybe I do!"

When he finished around his fingertips, digging into the cement like curled talons, spread a web of cracks. But Eddie didn't even notice that. He was glaring at Peter with eyes like icicles, and an expression just as cold.

"Unbelievable," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Not giving Peter the time to react, he got up, towering over him like a gigantic gargoyle.

"That's your takeaway? We don't agree to your every whim so suddenly we're the bad guy here?"

"It's not some whim!" Peter almost growled as he jumped to his feet as well. "Sometimes- Sometimes you're insufferable! Did it ever," he stabbed his finger into their chest, "ever, crossed your mind to, I don't know, look at things from other person's point of view?! To maybe consider you're just being selfish?!"

"Oh, so we're the selfish ones?!"

"Well, I wasn't ghosting you for three days, for the immense crime of trying to find any way to make this goddamn mishegas work!" he yelled, throwing his arms to the sides.

"Listen here, you self-entitled brat-!"

But before he could finish, the mass of tendrils up until now nervously flailing around his neck exploded like a geyser, enveloping his head in a tight hood. Peter's mouth opened in a gasp, but he didn't manage to utter even a word, before a tentacle glued it shut as well.

While Eddie pulled at the plasma stuck to his face, it split open, forming a maw going from one of his shoulders to the other. Peter stumbled back, almost falling. Only when the tentacle left his mouth, and the Symbiote streamed down, exposing the offended eyes of Eddie, did he calmed down.

"No more shouting," the alien quietly hissed. "Don't like shouting. Please?"

Eddie scowled, crossing his arms. Peter swallowed hard.

"Uh- Yeah, right, sorry about that," he mumbled, sounding a little taken aback.

"Don't like being hurt."

Peter's lips formed into an "o".

"Ah damn, did we really get this loud? Then, I'm really sorry. Didn't mean to- lose my temper this much." He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands stiffly.

With an unhappy grunt, Eddie's head swung side to side, strung along by his Other.

Its tentacles rested in a comforting manner over Eddie's head, simultaneously wrapping around his hands as well. It wasn't often that it took over the body they shared - but it could feel anger coursing through Eddie's veins and making his heart beat like a war drum. Talking in a state like this, which it could sense Peter sharing too, was bound to only make things worse. And it didn't want to meet with Peter only to further the rift the quarrel was forming between them. It curled inward a bit. It much preferred going along with the current formed by its host's will. When it pushed Eddie into facing Peter, it hoped he would make up with him without any further input of its own. One of its tentacles dripped down his face, caressing his rough features with tenderness and the slightest bit of exasperation.

It loved both of them. But it started to occur to it, that sometimes they acted rather... Stubbornly. Absolutely refusing to engage with each other in an actually productive manner. Which meant, that it probably should eventually start getting involved more. Even if it would prefer not to.

Speaking and acting for itself... Was hard.

Still, it had to at least try.

Peter can't read our mind, it shimmered inward. Humans can't read thoughts.

Eddie tensed and puffed up, taking on a pose of absolute offense and indignation. It petted his head once more.

"Don't like needles. Don't like being cut," the Symbiote said softly.

Letting out a sigh, Peter ran a hand down his face. When he spoke, his voice almost cracked, trying to close the gates on the flooding frustration. He seemed to intend to sound reassuring. What he came off as, brought to the mind a doctor at the end of his shift, explaining to a little kid that the bitter syrup he's prescribing them is absolutely not going to turn their tummy into a swamp.

"Jelly... You know that I would never hurt you. Come on, don't you trust me?"

The Symbiote hesitated, while choosing its next words. Eventually, it pulled its wide maw into just a small opening, before nearly whispering;

"Said don't want to be a specimen. But Peter wants to make us into it anyway"

And with those words, the tiny mouth sank back into its mass. Soon after it followed the collar of tentacles, previously stopping Eddie from interrupting it. He made an exaggerated grimace, and wiped his lips theatrically.

"I would much appreciate it if you didn't do that again," he huffed, receiving no answer.

His Other spread in curls along his organs, too nervous after speaking up to reply verbally. Instead it pushed forward an impression of a clarinet making tiny doots beside a massive, booming tuba. After that it went completely silent.

"That's not true," Eddie scoffed.

He didn't really listen for an answer though. Instead, his eyes wandered to the side, stealing a peak at Peter, who was now sitting slouched. His hands hung like tied in a knot, occasionally jerking up in the beginning of a gesture, before collapsing back down. He seemed to be in quite the conundrum. Which, in a way, was a promising sight and Eddie found himself curious as to what his response to his Other would ultimately be.

"...But I really wouldn't hurt you."

"Oh, you can't be serious!"

All the dimming agitation that was smoldering in his chest arose with twice the strength. And then, they fell, turning into a hissing bundle of tired frustration.

"All I'm saying is just that-" Peter attempted once more, but he silenced him with a gesture.

"That's enough." He crossed his arms, feeling the claws dig a little deeper than they usually would. "I- We just can't do this right now."

The breath they took did little to soothe their nerves. But maybe something like a hot shower would. And a bucket of chocolate ice cream. They turned away, about to jump off the roof. It looked like it was going to be a relatively peaceful night. They might as well spend the rest of it inside.

"Eddie! We're not done talking!" Peter shouted after them.

"We are."

From behind they could hear an annoyed groan that they didn't bother to respond to. While they walked away, their face shifted to sharp fangs and blank eyes. They didn't even look back - and maybe they should have, because before they could put a foot over the edge, they got tugged right back by a strand of web. With a muffled curse between their teeth, Eddie sent a sharp glare over their shoulder. His patience was running thin. If this was to keep on going, he would- He would have to stop themselves from doing something they would regret later. And he would stop themselves. But the longer he could feel the hollow mirrors over themselves, the harder it was going to be.

"Peter," he drawled out. "We're going to say this one more time. We're done. Please. While we're still civil."

They snapped the webline off. Peter didn't send another, but he made a step toward them. Eddie grit their teeth.

"Pe-"

"But this is important!"

The sincerity they didn't expect to resonate through his voice threw them off balance. For a moment, they froze. Peter dragged a hand down his face and then up it, pulling the mask with it. The eyes it exposed looked... Lost. He opened his mouth, taking in a breath, but the words he hoped to say didn't make it past his lips, tripping somewhere along the way and crushing down with a choked sigh. Eventually, he pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing hard with another groan that grew into a full-on rant of muffled gibberish.

"I want this to work," he forced out finally, looking between his fingers. "This... THIS," he accentuated, pointing to the ground, "Is me trying to make it work. Okay? That's- there's no other motives attached to it. I'm trying to make this work. That's all."

Their heart clenched. Eddie wasn't sure if it was because the Symbiote grabbed onto it or... For some other reason. Maybe both.

For a while, Peter rocked on his heels. As always, his hands were restless, like two separate beings, perhaps, fittingly, a pair of spiders scattering around in twitching spurts. Eventually, one of said spurts sent them to their hands, landing onto them with all the anxiety and all the hope of a crashfall.

"You scare me,” he said, running his thumb over the inches of their claws. “I wish we could be over it, but we're not. Like this... Sometimes I'm still scared of you. But- But if you'd let me- If I could understand you, I know that would help. I know it."

"That's not what we're against," they quietly responded.

"Then what?"

"The -” Eddie squeezed their eyelids shut, overtaken by pure frustration. “Jesus. Peter, it's not that hard to understand!"

"Then explain it to me!” Peter let go of their hand, spreading his arms. “If it's so obvious, explain it to me!"

In this moment, Eddie just really wanted to grab his head between their claws and yell directly into his face, letter by letter enucleating how much of a block headed moron he was being. He didn’t do that. But what he shouted was dripping with the need and intention of it.

"The scalpels, Peter! The syringes, the microscopes-! Turning into a- another science project of yours, treating us like a freak to research and experiment on!"

"How else am I supposed to learn about you then?!" Peter screamed back, matching their exasperation to the t.

"Just be with us!" They grabbed Peter's hand, despite the fact he flinched away the moment they approached, and pressed it against their chest, against their heart. "Look at us! Touch us! That's what we are. " Their voice grew soft and almost begging. Like a plea for Peter to not take his hand away. To meet their eyes and at least try to seek for the humanity in them, even if he was failing to see it. "This." They squeezed his hand. "Not some cells under a microscope. This."

For a while, Peter stood with his head hanging low. He stared at his palm, right beside the head of the white spider symbol. At the tendrils gently reaching up from it, growing past his wrist, past the elbow, to rest on his cheek. His breath hitched. He didn't look up.

But he didn't back away either.

"...okay."

It was uncertain, and rough, and quiet. They almost didn't hear it, as he leaned forward, resting his forehead at the center of their chest. His arms trembled a bit, when he reached up and then even more, when he dug them deep into the Symbiote.

"Okay."

The kiss that came afterward was both the most natural thing and the most possibility awkward. It was their worst yet, probably. Their mouths didn't fit together like that; not when it came to the kisses that were sweet and tender, anyway. It was nice, though. In its own way. And maybe that could be enough of a start.

#spidervenom #eddie brock #peter parker #venom #spider man #venom symbiote #spideyvenom #fanfiction #my writing

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