#it sounds like a plane and occasionally crashes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-drop-level-one-loot · 9 months

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Could I request reader x Yandere Giant? I feel like you'd write this concept so well!!

CW: ridiculous size difference kink, living fleshlight, non-con, oral, cummflation, anal

Fear gripped (Reader) as they helplessly swung from the tree they had landed in. Just the day before (Reader) was boarding a plane, excited to travel with the opportunity to continue their learning, studying to become a professor of anthropology. Tragically, five hours into the seventeen hour flight something went wrong with the plane, sending it careening through the air and falling in a nose dive back down towards the earth. (Reader) wasn't sure how it all happened, but suddenly there was a painful amount of wind pressure inside the plane, and their seat was sucked out.

They had been lucky enough to not die, their seat getting caught in a tree during the fall, however they were now trapped with no way down. The drop was still too high to land safely without breaking anything, and the branch the seat had lodged itself into was too far away from the trunk for an attempt to shimmy down. So they were stuck, too afraid to move and cause themselves to fall further. Helplessly, (Reader) began crying and screaming for help.

"Goddamnit! I'm not an outdoors person, I can't get down!" (Reader) bemoaned their predicament, screaming more to vent than to actually attract help, not knowing if anyone else survived the crash. "Help! Me!"

The anthropology student cried themselves weak.

(Reader) had just began nodding off, unable to hold their eyes open, when a loud earthquake rumbled the forest, shaking (Reader's) seat dangerously. The booming shakes repeated rhythmically, becoming louder and shaking (Reader) more violently.

"Stop! Stop! I'm going to fall!" (Reader) wasn't sure who they were crying out to, possibly God, pleading only because the fear of dying overrode their rational thinking.

It continued closer, frightening (Reader) into gripping their seat belt for dear life. As the sound became louder, the more it resembled footsteps, walking up to the tree (Reader) hung from. The thundering echoed from behind (Reader).

A hand large enough to wrap around (Reader's) ribcage grabbed the chair and yanked it out of the branch, lifting (Reader) up to meet their "savior" face to face. A large man taller than (Reader's) family home stood almost fully naked. Even from their position strapped to a chair, (Reader) could tell that the monster's face was more than half their height in length.

"What an odd little bird." The giant's deep voice rumbled out, reverberating in (Reader's) rib cage like the bass of a suped up car.

Refusing to believe that what (Reader) was seeing was real, they pointed a finger at the being, shaking harder than a chihuahua while they (not-so) confidently exclaimed "I'm not a bird!"

Bright green eyes the color of the trees surrounding (Reader) twinkled with amusement. The huge man brought (Reader) closer, his skin pleasantly smelled like dirt after rainfall in spring. "Oh, is that so?" He teased, overjoyed by the mixture of fear and embarrassment painted visibly on (Reader's) face. "But you are perched in a tree like a bird, and you squawk like a bird.."

Salty tears dribbled down their dirty cheeks. "Please don't kill me." (Reader) begged, quickly giving up their (unconvincing) facade of bravery.

"Kill you? I would never.." the giant chuckled, carrying the still strapped in (Reader) in his hand as he began back the way he came. "If you were able to survive a fall like that, perhaps it was fate that we should meet."

Their nerves tingled at his words. "How.. did you know I fell?"

A roaring laughter shook the trees and nearly burst (Reader's) ear drums. "You are quite adorable in your stupidity, little bird!"

(Reader's) questions were outright ignored for the rest of the trip, only occasionally hearing a chuckle or a 'hmph' in response to their frightened inquiries. The giant brought (Reader) deeper into the mountain, revealing a large cave tunneling into it's side, obviously the giant's home, decorated with ornate wooden carvings and drapes meticulously sewn out of leaves, similar to his loin cloth.

He only spoke after setting (Reader) down on a handmade table. "Are you going to tell me your name, or shall I continue calling you bird?"

Unbuckling as fast as (Reader) could, their leg muscles were weak from the plane crash, so what they had intended to be a show of bravery, standing tall in the face of uncertainty, was more like the wobbling of a newborn deer, knees bonking together pitifully. "Not until you tell me your name first!"

"Hah! You couldn't pronounce my name, bird. My name is the sound of the rapid river rushing down this mountain." A hissing growl hummed in the back of his throat.

"Okay, Growley, my name is (Reader)."

The giant smiled, pulling a stool up to sit beside the table (Reader) stood on. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Because he sounded sincere (Reader) struggled to remain angry, reminding themselves that this was a possibly dangerous stranger was difficult when he was acting so charismatic. "Thank you.. for getting me out of that tree, I guess.. But I should be looking for an open area without trees, or better, the crash site, so when rescue comes they'll find me."

The smile drooped on "Growley's" lips, a conflicted grimace taking it's place. "I'm sorry to break it to you (Reader), but no one is coming for you."

"What?! Why??" (Reader) loudly cried out, heart shattering painfully in their chest.

"My island is protected by magic. It is concealed from all eyes."

(Reader) sat down, trying not to have a panic attack. "Would they be able to see me from the water?"

"You would have to be quite far from my island before it's protection waned. You would drown before rescue arrived."

They slumped down further, laying flat against the wood, focusing on their breathing. "Oh."

"Do not be perturbed, little bird. Our meeting was fate, as I have said, so I am confident that you will learn to think of this as your home as well."

"Fuck your fate." (Reader) wearily whined.

A sigh shook the furniture. "I have been alone for a very long time. For hundreds of years I have prayed to the spirits of the universe that they would resurrect another giant so I may have someone to speak to. I was desperate. So when I saw the giant creature flying high above me, having difficulties in it's flight, close enough to the ground to interfere with the magic bubble.." (Reader) sat up, face twisted in rage. "I trusted the spirits, and helped bring the monster down faster."

The bottom lip on (Reader) quivered. "What did you do?"

There was no remorse on his face as Growley responded. "I acted on impulse, and knocked you out of the sky with a boulder."

(Reader) shuffled away, hysterical. "You-you-you!"

"Don't curse me, little bird, please. You have no idea the torment I've suffered, alone with the corpses of my family."

They shakily stood, and began running towards the edge of the table. Growley's gnarled hand effortlessly scooped (Reader) up, unfazed by their fists weakly slamming into his fingers.

"I know how frightened you must be, but this was fate! You were sent to me from the spirits. And with the spirits mercy, you will be blessed to live with me for the rest of my life.."

Using his nails, Growley pulled (Reader's) pants off, exposing their bare lower half. They clamped their thighs shut while crying out in protest, but it was too late for bargaining; he had been alone for long enough, and was desperate for companionship.

(Reader) was incapable of fighting back as they were lifted with one hand, pressing their bare ass to the giant's face. With his free hand he stretched one leg to the side so he could look at (Reader's) everything. They couldn't see what was happening over his hand clamped on their chest. They squeezed their eyes shut in anticipation, but popped them right back open when something hot and wet ran across their naked groin.

"EW!" (Reader) screamed, feeling a tongue larger than their face taste their body. It roughly pressed against their anus and ran upward over their sensitive organ.

He continued doing so over and over as (Reader's) body began reacting against their wishes.

They could only hope that he couldn't taste their fluids as they became aroused, the tongue still prodding at their ass and folds.

The hands holding (Reader) up changed positions, cradling the body with both hands, but now holding up their legs with his thumbs, pressing them back till (Reader's) knees brushed against their face. The stretching was discomforting, but the aching was forgotten as Growley stuck their entire pelvis in his lips, sucking hard as his tongue tried to force its way into their ass. (Reader) couldn't take their mind off of the assault, the suction on their sensitive glans sending convulsions up their trembling thighs. A knot inside (Reader) formed, building like a wave, threatening to come crashing down.

"Stop, I'm going to cum!"

(Reader) dug their nails into his fingers as they released inside their kidnapper's mouth, moaning loudly as they did so despite their attempt to conceal their pleasure.

The giant removed (Reader) from his lips, swapping them back to being held by one hand, and dropped his only piece of clothing. "I cannot wait any further, little bird." His eyes were almost apologetic as he lowered (Reader), giving them a full view of his erection. The length of his enlarged dick was almost as large as his face, making (Reader) weep in anticipation.

"Please don't!"

Their entrance was already wet from the tongue poking at it, wasting no time in slowly pressing the tip into (Reader's) clenched ass. The pain was like getting ripped open, having something so large pushed into them. The giant groaned with pleasure, and rammed (Reader) further onto his cock.

Like masturbating with a flesh light, he used (Reader's) tight bloody hole selfishly, fucking them as deeply as he could physically fit. The sounds of his grunts drowned out (Reader's) heaving sobs, moving faster and faster, almost cracking their ribs under the force of his grip.

A loud growl escaped as reached his climax, cumming inside (Reader's) gut, extending out their midsection as he bloated them up. Yanking (Reader) off his dick, jizz leaked out of their swollen bottom as he pressed his slit against (Reader's) lips before they could clench their jaw shut. Releasing the rest of his load into their mouth, shooting so much into their throat that they believed they could feel the smelly cum hit the bottom of their stomach.

When he finally finished, (Reader) was a mess, covered in his sperm and spilling his seed out of both ends. Growley kissed the top of (Reader's) sweaty head lovingly, overwhelmed by just how sexy they looked ballooned out by his love.

"I told you it was fate, little bird. Rest now, for we have three hundred and twenty-eight years of loneliness to make up for~"

#yandere #yandere monster x reader #yandere monster #thank you for the suggestion #cw noncon #cw size kink #not proofread #giant/tiny #cw monsterfucking #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #i hope you like it

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zeonotneo · 2 months

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A/N : Oh my gosh this is my first fic and I'm impulsively writing it so it isn't proof read or I might overthink it and not post it.

pleaseee give me prompts or recommendations, not limited to Spencer! Any member of the BAU, or Criminal Minds, I am only halfway through season 9 so no spoilers!

I'm currently on 09x15 of Criminal Minds, and this episode is directed by our very own Mr. Gibson.

"Do you wanna come upstairs?"

(Gn!reader) after a particularly exhaustive case that struck Spencer the hard way, reader tries to be there for him ( this isn't a romantic fic but is up for interpretation/ as you wish ;) ) .

I've been a part of the BAU for about seven months now, I transferred a little while after my time in the field under the SOC, but I had assisted them on multiple cases before and was familiar with most of the team so the transition wasn't hard. I was great friends with Penelope already because she'd help me on my cases sometimes if she had the time to spare, she would invite me to her movie nights and outings and from there on I befriended the others. I was good friends with everyone on the team except Spencer, we weren't on bad terms or anything, but things were rocky, I had no doubt that he trusted me as a team member. Perhaps he just needed more time to consider me as anything more than that.

Everyone slept soundly in the bau jet as we headed back for Quantico. The team had been in Wisconsin for the past 6 days trying to chase down an unsub that had been kidnapping teenagers and sending letters to their parents written in their blood. This case was mentally and physically draining. I was sitting next to Morgan, who was sound asleep with his headphones on, occasionally stirring in his sleep, uneasy, he had taken a couple of hits chasing the unsub with JJ. The unsub might've gotten away if it wasn't for Spencer literally throwing himself at the unsub to subdue him. He may not look(or be) the most physically fit person on the team, but over the years during his time working for the FBI, he'd been more than able to stand his ground.

I couldn't fall asleep on the flight back so I thought I might as well make some coffee, as I was preparing the pot, I glanced around the jet and locked eyes with a certain Curly haired genius with a book in his hand, he looked like he'd woken up not long ago, I held up the pot in my hand as a way of asking him if he'd like some and he simply nodded with a tight lipped smile. I grabbed both of our coffees and set his down on the table infront of him.

"Thank you, Y/N, I thought you'd be asleep"

"I was, but Morgan keeps stirring in his sleep, and that woke me up, what about you? What's keeping you up? I figured you'd crash the second we boarded the jet, you must be exhausted"

"My side hurts from earlier so I can't find a comfortable position to sleep in, I'm just waiting to be back in Quantico so I can hopefully rest at home"

"Do you want- uh- would you want to sit here instead? I know the plane lands in the next 20 minutes and we're already almost there but-"

"I'd like that, thank you, Dr. Reid"

"Spencer"

"What?"

"Call me Spencer, if you'd like, Reid feels too formal, like we're nothing more than co-workers" he almost whispered the last bit ,there was a hint of disappointment written all over his face.

Was he...upset that I didn't call him Spencer?

"Okay, Spencer, I am just used to calling you Reid, has a nice ring to it, and for the record, I don't consider you as just a guy I work with, you're more than that" I smiled at him. "You can go back to your book if you want, we don't have to talk or anything"

"Oh okay" he looked as if he wanted to say something else but decided against it and reached out for his book instead

We sat in silence as he went back to his book and I leaned back in my seat and shut my eyes, the silence wasn't awkward, the silence was comfortable.

After landing, everyone filed into the bullpen as Penelope greeted us all with warm hugs.

"Everyone take the weekend off, I'll see you on Monday, Morgan, Reid, take care and let me know if you need anything"

Reid headed to his desk to grab a few things and I stayed behind, waiting for him.

"You haven't left yet?" He questioned me as he approached the elevator

"I was just waiting for you, we take the same train home so I figured we could head back together"

"I'd really like that" Spencer smiled at me.

I don't just want to walk him to the station, I really want to walk him home, just for my peace of mind, I don't know why, I just do

"You just missed your stop" He asked me as the doors closed on what should've been the stop I got off on everyday. "Are you walking me home?"

"...Is it okay if I do that? I mean it's not that I'm worried that you can't get back on your own with you being hurt, it's just that for my peace of mind-"

You're rambling, Y/N, big time

"Y/N, it's okay, I really appreciate you doing that, it's very thoughtful of you" he cut me off

We walked towards his apartment building as we talked about our plans for the weekend, Reid decided to stay in this weekend and recover while I will probably be spending the next two days doing movie nights with Penelope or meeting up with JJ.

We came to a halt as he stopped infront of a building I presumed he lived at, I actually had no idea where he lived until this moment.

"Well, this is me"

"Okay, have a nice weekend,okay? If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call, I am serious, I live close by anyways"

"Would you like to- uh- Do you want to come upstairs?" Reid looked at me expectedly.

"I wouldn't want to intrude, besides you should definitely get some sleep, Reid- Spencer, you've had a long day"

"I have a strong cup of caffeine in my system, I'm tired, yes, but I'm nowhere near sleeping, we can order take out, my treat, besides, some company would be nice, your company would be nice, if you want to ofcourse, don't feel compelled to say yes"

"I'd like that, thank you, Spencer, but please don't hesitate to tell me if you change your mind and want to sleep instead or want to be left alone."

We headed up to his apartment and he set up an old Silent movie for us to watch, enjoying the takeout, we got so caught up in talking that I didn't even realize how late it had gotten, we were on our second movie before I heard the silent snoring and looked over to my side to see Spencer fast asleep,I finished the rest of the movie and got up from the couch to clear the table and throw away the take out boxes, I reached into his go-bag and took out a blanket he sometimes carried with him and placed it over him.

He looks so angelic when he sleeps, so peaceful

As if sensing me staring at him, his eyes fluttered open and embarrassment flushed his face as he realized he had fallen asleep while I was still over.

He turned his head and locked at the clock, 01:23

"How long was I out? I am so sorry , I had trouble sleeping the past few days and when it finally came to me it just had to be when you were here."

"Hey, don't worry, it's fine, really, you looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn't want to wake up, I'll be out of your hair now"

"It's late right now, Y/N, it isn't safe for you to go out alone ,not that I'm in any way hinting that you can't take care of yourself, you could throw Morgan over your shoulder if you really wanted to or Two Morgans for that matter but the point is, I don't want you to go-" he let out a sigh and looked down at his hands that rested on his lap. "If I asked you to stay, would you? I hadn't slept this well in a while and I'm sorry if that's weird but-"

I cut him off "point me to the bathroom, I have a fresh set of clothes in my go-bag that I can change into"

This man must have been more exhausted than I thought he was because he was asleep again as I stepped out of the bathroom, as I leaned down to wake him up to sleep on the bed instead, I glanced at my phone that had a new notification, from Spencer

Please take the bed, make yourself at home and turn off your alarms for the morning, Goodnight Y/N

P.s thank you for staying with me tonight, it means a lot"

I poured a glass of water and placed it on the table next to the couch, incase he wakes up thirsty and headed for the bedroom.

Goodnight Spencer, Sweet Dreams.

His bed was so comfortable that it wasn't long before I slipped into a blissful sleep.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #bau reader

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cherienymphe · 2 years

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Stranger Things (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, implied murder, changeling!Peter

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: He looked like Peter, and he sounded like Peter...but the man you'd been sleeping next to for months was not your boyfriend.

A simple trip across the water.

That was all it took to turn your life into a nightmare.

It had been Peter’s idea, backpacking and camping across Europe for your 2-year anniversary. You’d never been much of an outdoor person, but with Peter, he had a tendency to make you feel comfortable doing all sorts of new things you would’ve never considered otherwise. It didn’t take much convincing, agreeing with a bashful smile while he kissed you.

You’d left in the early hours of the morning, waving your neighbor goodbye as she stood outside checking her mail. Everything had been smooth sailing. Airport security, the plane ride, the landing, and even finally getting to your first destination. You’d never been much for the wild or anything related, but being with Peter made you admit to almost loving it. Two weeks of bliss and new experiences that you knew you’d tell your grandkids about one day.

You were having the time of your life.

And then it all came crashing down.

Waking up to find Peter gone wasn’t a strange occurrence. Sometimes he was cooking something over the fire, but most times he was just relieving himself in the trees. However, after about 10 minutes or so with no sign of him, you’d grown worried.

“Peter?” you had called out, zipping up your jacket to protect you from the cool morning air.

With no reply, your worry had only grown. The only sound to meet you was that of the occasional bird and the crunch of dirt and rocks beneath your feet. He never went far into the trees, and you’d walked much further than he ever would’ve gone with still no sign of him. Despite how much you were telling yourself not to panic, your brain and heart weren’t really on the same page.

With no texts from him and no sign of him, Peter was officially considered missing by the next day.

“Your father and I will be there in about two days,” your mother told you over the phone, voice thick with emotion.

She had grown to love Peter like a son in the two years that you’d been with him, so this was just as hard for her. His aunt May was supposed to be coming a few days after them, unable to get a flight right away. The authorities were as helpful as they could be, but your father didn’t exactly agree.

“Have you searched this area? And what about here? I’m not understanding why you’re not looking everywhere possible,” he’d snapped at one of the men.

“Dad,” you had chastised, frowning at him.

He loved Peter just as much as your mom, and you knew that he was only frustrated and as scared as you, but you didn’t think it was fair for him to take it out on people who were only trying to do their job. His face had fallen, and he’d sighed, making his way over to you.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he’d apologized. “I just feel like they could be doing more.”

“They’re trying, okay?” you had tearfully said, wiping your face.

However, your dad’s anger and frustration were nothing in comparison to May’s. After she’d hugged you for what felt like hours, she’d rounded on the nearest man possible, tearing into him like he was personally responsible for Peter’s disappearance. Your lack of information to provide didn’t help things either. After all, Peter had been at your side when you went to sleep, and when you woke up, it was as if he’d walked off with no trace.

The idea that he could’ve just…left had never crossed your mind. It was unfathomable to you, and yet… They hadn’t been able to find any sign of a struggle nor any indication that he’d gotten lost and hurt himself. There’d been no stray hair of his or shoe prints or even some fabric from his clothing. It was as if someone had reached down from the sky and plucked Peter from where he stood.

Eleven days.

That was how long Peter had been missing.

It was eleven days of torture and turmoil and worry that was slowly but surely bleeding into grief. The worst-case scenario haunted you from the back of your mind, and you’d been fighting against every fiber of your being to ignore it. What if he was dead? What if there was no sign of him because there was nothing left to be found? It was eleven days of little to no sleep, and unfortunately, you looked like it.

Your hope never waned, and you were days away from going out into those woods yourself when May got the call. You couldn’t deny the way your heart had fallen when she answered it, half expecting to hear that they’d found his body. However, the tears that filled her eyes, and the relief that washed over her face had you stumbling to your feet.

May was the first to run into the station with you and your parents close behind. When you’d made it through the doors, the older woman already had her arms wrapped around him. Her sobs of relief were loud, and you found yourself slowing to a stop. They were swaying from side to side, and after a while, almost reluctantly it seemed, Peter hugged her back.

Looking back, that should’ve been the first sign that something wasn’t right.

You’d just been so relieved that you’d overlooked it. You’d overlooked all of them in the beginning. Like the fact that for someone lost in the wilderness for days, he’d looked perfectly fine. Not so much as a scratch or a speck of dirt had been on him. You had felt frozen when he pulled away from May, your own parents rushing past you to hug him as well. However, his gaze hadn’t been on any of them.

Peter’s eyes had met yours, and without even realizing it, a shudder had passed through you.

They were the same shade of dark brown that they always were, the same shade as his hair, and yet…something about them was so different. Your parents and May fussed over him and cried over him all the while you, his girlfriend of two years, couldn’t even move. When he pulled away from them, straightening himself to his full height, they all turned to look at you.

You realized how odd you were acting, but every time you tried to move…you couldn’t.

Something wasn’t right.

“Y/N?”

Peter said your name, and you blinked as he took a step closer. Peter’s voice was the same as ever, and after not hearing it for almost two weeks, you should’ve been falling into his arms at the sound of it. You should’ve, but you couldn’t because even though Peter’s voice was the same…. The sound of your name falling from his lips didn’t sound quite right.

It sounded…off.

And yet, when he moved closer to you, resting his hands on your arms, you crumbled.

Peter was quick to catch you, holding you to him as you cried into his chest. You didn’t note until much later that he hadn’t even smelled like he’d been out in the wilderness for over a week. He’d smelled like he’d just rolled out of bed, but you hadn’t cared. You’d only allowed yourself to feel relief at the feel of being in his arms again. He had shushed you in that soothing voice of his, heart so calm within his chest as he repeatedly told you that he was here now, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

As he petted your head, you remembered thinking how he’d never done that before.

Peter had no memory of those eleven days. No matter how much the police pressed and how many specialists he’d seen, it was like there was a blank spot in his brain where those days should’ve been. It had worried you, it had worried May even more, but seeing as he was unharmed and seemingly no crime had been committed, there wasn’t much they could do.

The relief was contagious when you finally were able to go home. May was still somewhat of a wreck, determined to take Peter back home with her just to look after him for a bit. It was clear the incident had scared her the most out of everyone, and you knew that she just wanted him nearby. You understood it. You respected it, but Peter had been adamant about going back to your shared home with you.

The slight hurt on May’s face had you speaking up.

“Maybe you should stay with May for a few days,” you’d softly told him. “I think she needs this.”

That last part had been just for him, and Peter hadn’t torn his gaze away from your own as he replied.

“All I thought about was you,” he said, loud enough for his aunt to hear. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

“Y/N can come to,” May had interjected, and you glanced at her with a nod.

However, Peter wasn’t hearing it, and May was forced to accept that Peter simply wanted to just be at home, right now. You had both hugged her goodbye at the airport, doing the same a day later with your parents when they finally left your house. You and Peter were alone, and for some reason, that thought didn’t comfort you.

“I was so scared,” you heard yourself saying later in the evening, Peter’s face in your hands.

He was sitting on your bed, looking up at you as you stood between his legs. He didn’t reply right away, content to just drink you in it seemed. He did that a lot since he returned. Stare at you without saying a word, and you once again found yourself wondering what happened to him while he was gone.

“I…I thought the worst and…”

You trailed off, not quite able to voice your fears.

Again, Peter said nothing, simply taking you in, and you swallowed. You brushed your thumb over his skin, staring into his eyes when he eventually reached up to rest his hands on your waist. He kneaded at your skin through your shirt, dark eyes still on yours…unblinking. It was unnerving, and only when you frowned did he finally blink.

A slow smile spread along his pink lips, and he pulled you closer.

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You returned his smile, resting your hands on his where they lay at your waist.

“That’s a relief to hear,” you chuckled, and he tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

A silence fell between you two that, for some reason, grew thick with tension. You thought to yourself that Peter was never this quiet. In fact, you’d often joke about how his mouth couldn’t quite keep up with all of his thoughts. Now though… Now, it seemed like he couldn’t even find the words, or didn’t want to, and was just content to stare at you.

Again, you wondered about those eleven days that he’d been gone.

“Peter…”

His eyes lit up, glinting ambiguously at the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Last time I asked, you said you didn’t remember anything, but… I was just curious if maybe something had come back to you now,” you softly inquired with a shrug.

Your boyfriend shook his head.

“No,” was his simple reply. “I don’t remember a thing.”

You accepted that with a small sigh, nodding to yourself.

“If you do…you’ll tell me, right?”

Peter answered without hesitation.

“Of course.”

The rest of the evening was spent unpacking, Peter at your side the entire time. You mostly talked about the good parts of the trip before the incident, your boyfriend throwing in a comment or two here and there. It wasn’t like him, and truthfully, the entire vibe between you two just felt…off. However, your boyfriend had gone missing for over a week, and so you chalked it up to that.

You briefly thought about talking to May regarding therapy or something if it was alright with Peter.

When night came, you’d never been so eager to hop in the shower and relax into bed. The warm water felt good against your skin, but unfortunately, it wasn’t doing much to ease the knots and tension in your shoulders. You let it run over you, and when you glanced over, the shriek that left you was embarrassing.

Through the shower door, Peter’s figure was shadowy and imposing in the doorway.

Almost frightening.

“Jesus, Peter,” you sighed. “What is it?”

The question came out soft, wondering if maybe he’d remembered something or wanted to join you even. However, he said nothing. Your hand was still pressed to your chest, and your frown deepened the longer the silence stretched. You didn’t realize how fast your heart had started to beat, and despite the heat in the room, your skin prickled as if you were outside.

“Peter…?”

It wasn’t his silence that unnerved you, but the stillness of him.

You pressed your lips together and was just about to slide the door back when he turned around and left. He did it so smoothly and suddenly, and you found yourself frowning. It was the oddest occurrence, and with a swallow, you forced yourself to finish up. That strange feeling that you got back at the police station festered deep in your gut.

Peter was sitting on your bed when you stepped out of the bathroom.

“What was that about?” you wondered with a chuckle.

It sounded nervous even to your own ears.

Peter didn’t respond right away as you made your way to your dresser, searching for something to sleep in. He remained silent for so long that you’d almost forgotten about your question entirely as you prepared to drop the towel.

“I was just checking in on you.”

You literally jumped at the sound of his voice coming from right over your shoulder. You hadn’t even heard him get up, let alone walk across the room. You turned to look at him with startled eyes still, shoulders slowly relaxing. Peter’s gaze was traveling over your face, trailing over the skin that was borne.

“You didn’t…say anything,” you told him.

His gaze snapped up to meet yours at that, and his smile was sweet. Disarming.

“I didn’t hear you,” was his excuse, head tilted to the side.

You found yourself accepting that with a nod, brows drawing together when he reached for you.

“I missed you,” he murmured with a deep frown, gaze fixated on your damp skin.

Your gaze softened at that.

“I missed you too.”

“All I thought about was you,” he whispered, fingers brushing over your towel.

Your back grazed the wood of the dresser, understanding dawning on you as he pressed himself to you.

“Peter…you went through something kind of traumatic. So bad that you don’t even remember any of it,” you said to him. “Maybe…maybe that should wait for a few days.”

He lifted his gaze at that, staring into your eyes for a long time.

“Why…?” he asked, tone hardening just a tad. “I want you.”

You swallowed, and his eyes narrowed just the slightest.

“Don’t you want me?”

“Of course, I do,” you hurried to ease his worries. “I’m just… I’m really worried about you.”

His expression didn’t change, and you licked your lips, wracking your brain to make him understand.

“You don’t seem like yourself, and why would you? I would just feel like I was almost taking advantage of you.”

Peter looked visibly confused, like he didn’t understand what you were saying. In a swift movement, he leaned in to kiss you. It seemed unsure, and that only added to your resolve that now wasn’t the time. He leaned back a bit, and you watched as he blinked, tongue slowly darting out to swipe over his lips…tasting you. He stared at your lips with an unreadable expression, humming to himself.

You were just about to speak when he dove in again, lips hungry.

Your eyes went wide at the action, gasping when he yanked you against him. His arms kept you prisoner, and even though Peter had said that he wanted you, you were still surprised to feel his hard length against your skin through his pants. He moved his mouth against yours greedily, and his aggressive movements stumped you.

Peter was sweet in bed, always had been.

The roughest thing he’d ever done was pull your hair too hard once, and even though you’d enjoyed it, he’d been beside himself with guilt. So having him kiss you so fiercely and handle you so roughly was enough to short-circuit your brain. Peter pawed at you like some animal, and although you didn’t hate it…it wasn’t like him, at all.

Every time you tried to pull away to speak, his lips swallowed your words.

By the time he got you on your back, your towel was long gone, and he’d discarded his shirt. His chest was pressed to yours as he pinned you beneath him, groaning at the feel of your tongue against his. He was doing so much at once it was making your head spin. His lips were on yours, then they were on your shoulder. His hands were on your hips, then they were on your breasts.

You were out of breath when he pulled away, dark eyes taking you in. His lips were parted, and it was hard to describe the look on his face. Peter’s gaze roamed over your bare chest and torso and thighs. His hand slowly trailed from your jaw all the way down to your ankle. He looked completely mesmerized, and if you didn’t know any better, it was like Peter was seeing you for the first time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured more so to himself rather than you, and you swallowed.

“Peter, we don’t have to-.”

“I have to be inside you,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss a hardened bud. “I need to be inside of you.”

His voice cracked from desperation, and guilt chipped away at you.

Sure, you had to endure days of wondering whether Peter was alive or not, but he was the one who’d gone missing. Truthfully, there was no telling what he’d dealt with in that time, and with no memory of it, you could only allow your imagination to run wild. The knowledge that it could’ve been so traumatic that he literally repressed it made your heart ache.

It hadn’t occurred to you that maybe Peter just really needed you, right now.

You were more welcoming to his ministrations, and Peter almost growled at the change. He took his time gliding his tongue over your skin and grazing his teeth along the trail. He was desperate for you, and the sight turned you on more than you thought. Your fingers brushed over his chest when he kissed you again, the skin smooth…and you frowned.

It was hard to concentrate with his lips on yours and the tip of him poking at your entrance. His hips jerked, the head of him dipping into your warmth just a tad, and you gasped, almost losing your train of thought. You glided your fingers over his chest again, and sure enough, it was smooth.

Blemish free.

You blinked, turning your head to the side with a frown. You recalled an accident that Peter had had on his bike almost a year ago. It hadn’t been anything life threatening, but the rock he fell on had left a pretty nasty scar on his chest. It had healed well enough, but the raised skin was always noticeable during times like this. You told yourself that with so much going on, maybe you’d missed it. That had to be it, and you threw your head back when he pushed his cock into you, hips flush with yours.

With his hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head, his chest was in full view.

You wrapped your legs around him, slowly looking at him as he started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, agonizingly so, and you pressed your hands to his hips. His gaze was so focused on where you connected, dark eyes trained on his length disappearing into you. He exhaled at the sight, and when he looked back up, your own gaze fell to his chest.

Peter didn’t notice the way you froze.

You felt like you were being yanked out of the experience, unable to focus on the way he pushed his cock into you. His groans were in your ear, but you couldn’t really hear them. You jostled beneath him, as still as the dead as you stared at his chest. No scar, no raised skin anywhere in sight.

In a matter of days, it seemed to have disappeared completely.

You involuntarily squirmed at a particular toe-curling thrust, a slight noise escaping you just as you looked up in time to meet Peter’s gaze. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and he certainly sounded the part, but his eyes… There was something about his eyes that unnerved you. You were reminded of that feeling at the police station, and you opened your mouth only for a moan to come out.

Peter’s grin was almost…sinister.

His hand cupped your face, and for reasons unknown to you, it felt so foreign. He felt so foreign. The longer you stared at him, the less familiar he seemed, and your chest twisted painfully. His gaze was too unwavering, smile too big, even something about his nose just seemed too…perfect. Was it always that flawless? You laid your hand on his arm, swallowing as he fucked you.

Your eyes were drawn back to his chest, and your nails dug into his skin.

You couldn’t stop staring at it. At it’s perfection. There wasn’t a single blemish in sight, and roaming your eyes over him, the said could be true for everywhere else. Hadn’t he always had a freckle on his shoulder? What about that scar on his arm from when he was thirteen? The more you stared at him, the more uncomfortable you became, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut.

Peter’s hold on you was so tight, almost painfully so, and his groans were loud in your ear. Maybe it was just you. The whole ordeal had been traumatic for you too, so maybe it was all in your head. Still, even his cock stretched you in a way that it never had before, making you hiss and mewl beneath him.

“I want to see your eyes,” he hummed, hand on your chin. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

With your eyes closed, his voice sounded even more off. It did…but it didn’t, and you felt like you were going crazy. Reluctantly, you did open them, and Peter pressed his nose to yours. He softly chuckled to himself when you came around him, eyes focused on the way you gasped and the way your lashes fluttered. He didn’t let you go until he fucked every last drop of him into you.

Peter was right-handed.

This you were sure of.

When you’d met him, he’d had a sprained wrist. He had even joked about how he had to meet you when he wasn’t at his full potential. Sure, he’d learned to make do with his left hand, but he’d had a long way to go before calling himself ambidextrous when his right wrist fully healed. This was what you knew for sure.

And yet, here you were, watching Peter flawlessly address some postage to May…with his left hand.

Unable to watch him any longer, you stood with a grimace.

Peter had been found and was safe and sound and at home with you. You could see him and talk to him and touch him, and for that, you should’ve been over the moon. You weren’t still out there crying yourself to sleep each night wondering if he was okay. You weren’t fighting off thoughts of the worst-case scenario. Your boyfriend was here with you…

So, why didn’t it feel like it?

It had been weeks since your return from that eventful trip, and you found yourself staring at Peter a lot. He was so different, and although you couldn’t point out how in the beginning, it was little things like that that were messing with your head. You still recalled when you’d finally worked up the courage to ask about the scar on his chest. Or well, the lack thereof.

“Scar? What scar?” he’d replied.

You had frowned at him, staring at him for the longest time before shaking your head.

“When you fell off your bike that time…remember? You fell on a rock and…”

You had trailed off, words dying in the air because Peter was looking at you like he had no idea what you were talking about. Was it possible that he’d repressed more than just that week? You had blinked, and suddenly Peter was smiling at you, reaching out and touching your cheek.

“That scar healed forever ago, princess.”

He had chuckled at you, like you were so silly for not remembering.

Peter had never called you ‘princess’ a day in his life. It was always ‘baby’ this or ‘baby’ that. Baby, can you pass me my keys? You just look so tired, baby. Baby…I think I got the wrong milk. It was a term of endearment that you’d grown to love, and this new one just rubbed you the wrong way…just like everything else lately.

Everything about Peter was just so off to you.

The way he walked, the way he talked. His smile wasn’t even the same. It was far too sweet, almost disarming in a less than genuine way. Whenever he spoke to you, you had to stare directly at him as he did. If you didn’t, you would swear that it wasn’t even him speaking, and you’d spiral. He sounded like him, yes, but at times, there would be a lilt to his voice, a tone and the way his words fell off of his tongue that would have your hair standing on end…and you’d swear that it was a stranger speaking instead of Peter.

And on the other end, sometimes you couldn’t even look at him.

You’d find yourself just staring at him sometimes, and the more you did, the less familiar he’d look. It was uncanny how perfect his nose or lips would seem or how you’d trace his face with your eyes and find yourself wondering if it always looked like that. If it always looked so…fabricated? That wasn’t the word you were looking for, but at times, Peter just didn’t look real.

It was why you hadn’t been able to have sex with him in weeks.

It wasn’t due to lack of trying on Peter’s part. He always seemed to want you, and while his desire for you was nothing new, his desperation for you was near unsettling. It was like he was memorizing your body, getting accustomed to it, familiarizing himself with…new territory. You asked yourself isn’t that what every relationship should feel like? Like it was still new, and you were still eager to explore each other?

Only, Peter seemed like he was genuinely unfamiliar with your body…and you.

There were times when you’d catch him staring at you, and brushing off the strange feeling you got, you’d ask him what was on his mind. He’d shake his head, simply content to stare at you before asking you the most random question. Something he more often than not should know.

He would reach out and touch you a lot, brushing his finger over a scar as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes would be so trained on a freckle under your eye, in awe of it like he’d only just noticed it. He would study you like you were the anomaly in this situation, and you didn’t like it.

“Just tired,” you heard yourself murmuring to Peter later that night.

You didn’t miss his frown as you made yourself comfortable in the bed, and guilt nibbled at you. He almost looked like himself then, before the trip, and you were tempted to brush your discomfort aside for the sake of wanting things to go back to normal. You were positive that if you wrote all of your thoughts down, you’d conclude that you were insane. You had to be because…

How could you ever think that Peter wasn’t Peter?

You got the feeling that he wanted to say something, but instead he opted for getting up and turning out the light.

It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once they did…you froze.

Peter stood by the light…but he didn’t look right at all. You furiously blinked, wanting to write it off to a trick of the light, but the way your heart raced in your chest told you that your brain wasn’t convinced. His body was too…lean. Your frown deepened, and your lips parted.

The shape of his head looked wrong, neck almost too long, and his limbs looked stretched. One hand was still on the light, and his other arm hung limply at his side. It didn’t look normal, elongated, and his fingers were no different, moving like spider legs. In that moment, Peter very much looked inhuman, and you had hurried to flick the lamp on before you knew it.

When you looked back to him, he looked the same as ever, tilting his head to the side with a frown.

The whole ordeal had happened so fast, and you blinked back tears, telling yourself that you had to be going crazy.

“What?” he softly wondered, still standing there.

You blinked, a tear or two escaping, more falling when he neared you.

“Hey…what is it?” he slowly asked, voice meant to be soothing, you were sure.

You simply shook your head at him, taking forever to find the words.

“I just… I thought I saw something,” you breathed.

He settled into bed beside you, reaching out to brush his fingers along your skin. You recalled what you thought you saw, and a shiver passed through you. Peter looked you over with dark eyes, humming.

“Like what…?”

You couldn’t voice it, not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to. How could you even describe to him what you saw? What you’d been feeling? He’d call you crazy, and so you simply shook your head.

Peter kissed his teeth, arm sliding over your shoulders and pulling you against him. You felt his fingers in your hair, and he started to pat your head, a shushing sound leaving him as you shook.

“Whatever it was,” he started, tone low. “It’s gone now.”

He continued to brush his hand over your hair, holding you tight, and you felt him press his face against you.

“Can we…can we sleep with the lamp on?”

Your voice was quiet, but he’d heard you all the same, and you almost swore you heard him chuckle to himself. He pulled away a bit, and you looked up at him just as he looked down at you. The look in his eyes was a mystery to you, but he eventually smiled, slow to spread along his lips.

“Of course, princess.”

“You don’t remember? How can you not remember?”

May’s laugh was contagious it seemed, Peter joining in, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. They were in the kitchen, bonding over some popcorn while you sat on the couch…just watching. You were the one to call May and suggest a visit, because in all the months that Peter had been back, he hadn’t mentioned his aunt. Not once.

Peter could never go a day without bringing her up.

You’d like to say that it was purely out of the goodness of your heart, but the truth was that you were afraid. Writing it all off to what had happened was no longer an option. There were so many things you couldn’t ignore anymore, couldn’t pretend to chalk up to your imagination.

There was something very wrong with Peter.

You had hoped that May’s presence would make you feel better, maybe even dispel your worried, but in truth, her visit had only fueled them. Peter had looked confused when the doorbell rang, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d even say angry. His dark eyes had sharply cut to your for only a split second, but it was enough to make you freeze. You had played dumb when he went to answer the door.

May was on her own in her excitement.

You would never forget the look on Peter’s face, the stoniness there as you slowly creeped up beside him. The expression had come and gone so fast, jaw ticking and eyes hardening ever so slightly. He hadn’t just looked at May like she was a stranger, but like he absolutely hated her. However, you blinked, and the slow smile on his face made you think you’d imagined it.

“Aunt May,” he’d breathed.

The way he said her name, you would think that he had forgotten who she was. It wasn’t like him, at all, but the older woman hadn’t seemed to notice. He had eventually hugged her back, and you had slipped into the background as he welcomed her in. May had commented on it, throwing you a worried glance, but Peter answered before you could.

“She’s just tired,” he’d said, tone almost mocking. “Right, princess?”

His unblinking gaze met yours, and you’d given a shaky nod. He was still staring at you when May turned back around, sickly sweet smile on his pink lips before he blinked and turned his attention back to her. May’s presence was supposed to ease your worries. That’s why she was here. She was supposed to make you realize that you were going crazy.

However, with every story she brought up, every trip down memory lane, Peter couldn’t seem to remember most of them. Really, all of them. She would tilt her head with a laugh, asking him how he couldn’t remember, and he’d shrug. You couldn’t watch anymore, couldn’t watch May interact with this…stranger.

“Is Peter…okay?”

The dark-haired woman turned to you when you walked her outside, a slight frown on her face. You were tempted to say so many things, especially at the look of concern on her features. Truthfully, you didn’t have an answer, so you lied.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

She shook her head with a small smile.

“He just seems so…off. Not like himself,” she hummed.

You swallowed, heart dropping at the confirmation that it wasn’t just you.

“How so?” you heard yourself asking, and she shrugged.

“I can’t really explain it,” she replied, frowning slightly. “I don’t want to push him, but I think I will bring it up.”

She was referring to the last conversation you two had regarding a professional. You two said your goodbyes, and as she drove off, you remained in the driveway. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go back inside…not with him in there. With a sigh, you glanced towards your neighbor’s house.

You rarely saw her these days, seeing glimpse of her daughter even less. She wasn’t much younger than you, and you knew that classes were back in session, but you also knew that last semester had been her last. When you’d asked Peter about them, like many things, he seemed to have no idea as to what you were talking about.

Accepting that you couldn’t stay out here, you reluctantly made your way back inside.

Peter stood in the living room, waiting for you with an unreadable expression on his face. You flinched at the sight of him before forcing a smile onto your face.

“It was good seeing May,” you told him, walking by him.

The silence was unnerving, and you didn’t need to turn around to know that he was following you. He did that a lot now. Your silent shadow, quietly watching you cook or eat or clean or shower… Sleep. Too many nights you’d woken up with the overwhelming feeling of being watched, and even though it would be dark, and your eyes would be closed, you didn’t need to open them to know that Peter was gazing at you.

“I didn’t know she was coming,” he finally said, coming up behind you and resting his hands on the counter.

You were trapped, and you took a deep breath when he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s not like it’s the first time she dropped in for a surprise visit,” you told him, waiting for his reaction.

It did not disappoint, your heart skipping a beat when he merely hummed. You turned to face him when he pulled away, swallowing as you watched him pick at the popcorn that was left. You pressed your lips together, keeping your gaze on him.

“We should go to Disneyworld again,” you suddenly said. “It’s been over a year, and I was just thinking about how much fun we had last time.”

His brows furrowed slightly, gaze still on the popcorn.

“Plus, the chances of you going missing this time are slim,” you forced the joke, chuckling to yourself.

He finally turned to look at you, seemingly deep in thought. You held your breath, wringing your hands together as you simply stared at one another. Peter tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable before he smiled at you.

“We should,” he replied, and you almost let out a breath when he continued. “I miss it.”

He walked away, so he didn’t see the way your jaw twitched.

Peter’s back was to you as he cleaned up the mess, but you were frozen in place. You felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, and you couldn’t pull your gaze away from the man before you. You ran your eyes over him, brows deeply drawn together, and you resisted the urge to cry.

You and Peter had never gone to Disneyworld.

The trip had been planned, of course, but hurricane season put a damper on the plans. Even the refund hadn’t been able to make up for the disappointment you both felt, and you two just never got around to making those plans again. That sick feeling that you’d had for months twisted horribly in your gut, and when Peter threw you a small smile, you couldn’t even pretend to smile back.

This man wore Peter’s face, and he had Peter’s eyes…

…but the man you’d been sleeping next to for months was not your boyfriend.

Nat was looking at you with a frown, and honestly? You didn’t blame her.

Peter…or whoever he was, was fast asleep when you left in the early hours of the morning. Nat lived a few houses down, and she’d been on a trip of her own when you two returned. She was finally back, and you knew that you couldn’t go another day without seeing her. Without telling her what was going on.

“Y/N…”

Her voice seemed unsure, and you shook your head. Her face softened at the tears in your eyes, and she moved closer to you on the couch. Her hand reached for yours, and she took a deep breath.

“Okay…tell… Tell me again.”

“It’s not Peter,” you tearfully whispered.

She was quiet for a while before exhaling.

“…and why do you think that?”

“Nat, I know… I know what I sound like, okay?”

You looked at her, and she bit her lip. Her newly blonde hair brushed her shoulders as she tilted her head to the side.

“You don’t have to tell me what I sound like because I’ve been telling myself the same thing for…months now. I know that it’s impossible, and I know that I should be in someone’s ward-.”

“No-.”

“…but that is not Peter.”

She pressed her lips together, worryingly eyeing you.

“Nat, he doesn’t…he doesn’t remember things. A lot of things. Things from over a year ago, and what’s worse is that he’ll…he’ll lie about it.”

“Maybe he’s repressed more than just those days. Maybe he’s embarrassed that he doesn’t remember,” she said, and you nodded.

“That’s what I told myself too,” you whispered. “I wanted that to be the truth, but…”

You pressed your hand to your mouth, sitting back.

“He’s flawless,” you finally whispered.

Her frown deepened, and you continued.

“That biking accident that he had? The scar that was literally on his chest days before he went missing? It’s completely gone,” you told her with a shake of your head.

She blinked, rearing back a bit.

“I thought I had been imagining it, but it’s gone. Completely gone, and the scar on his shoulder is gone, and the little freckles I would count…they’re gone…”

“Okay…okay…”

“…and he stares at me! Anytime I do anything, even when I’m sleeping, he’ll just stare at me…four hours, I imagine.”

You took a deep breath.

“I’ll wake up…in the middle of the night…and it’ll be as dark as can be, and I… I can feel him staring at me,” you forced out. “He’s always watching.”

“Y/N…”

“I can’t stand to have him touch me. He doesn’t even feel like Peter. The last time we had sex, I felt like I was having sex with a complete stranger,” you cried, pressing your hands to your face. “…and if I didn’t look at him when he talked…I’d swear that it wasn’t him.”

Your gaze found the floor.

“Even May said that he seemed off…so unlike himself… and it’s because that’s not Peter,” you sobbed. “My Peter is still out there…in those woods…probably dead.”

You broke down in tears, body trembling as Nat wrapped her arms around you.

“I don’t know what to do,” you mumbled.

“Just…stay here, tonight…okay? Eat something, get some good rest, and we can figure this out tomorrow,” she offered.

You didn’t even think twice about taking her up on the offer. You texted Peter that you would be spending the night at Nat’s. Part of you wondered if he even knew who you were talking about, and when he didn’t respond, you welcomed a night of peace. Nat didn’t bring up the elephant in the room, nor did she comment on your sanity for which you were grateful.

She simply made you a cup of coffee and eventually warmed up some leftovers. When you were showered and laying in her bed in one of her t-shirts, you still felt the icy chill of Peter’s stare. Despite the fact that he hadn’t expressed displeasure at your staying at her place, you almost felt like you could feel his anger.

You assumed that it was something you’d face the following day.

Not in the middle of the night.

Nat’s scream was what woke you up, and your adrenaline had you tripping over yourself to follow the sound. The house was dark, a sliver of light shining through from the street light outside. Nat was in the kitchen, and you had just reached her when you followed her terrified gaze.

The figure by the door was familiar to you. Head too large, neck too elongated, and limbs so stretched like branches of a tree. It looked skeletal, disturbing and unnatural, and against your better judgement, you flicked on the kitchen light. Peter stood in it’s place, and you felt no relief.

“What the fuck?”

Nat’s anger was justified as she stomped towards him, but Peter only had eyes for you.

“How did you get in here?”

Peter ignored her question, brushing by her and heading straight for you. The smile on his face was wide, like there was nothing wrong, at all about this picture. You couldn’t move, trembling in fear as he reached for your hand.

“When you didn’t come home, I decided to check my messages and saw your text… Why would you want to stay here?”

He tilted his head to the side.

“Why would you want to be away from me?”

Nat finally reached you.

“I don’t know how you got in here, Peter, but Y/N said she wants to stay here, tonight so…”

It was as if he didn’t hear her, keeping his gaze on you. His fingers threaded themselves through yours, and you winced at the tight hold. Your gaze fearfully found Nat’s, and no matter how much you dug your feet into the floor, Peter’s strength allowed him to pull you towards the door.

“Peter!”

He wasn’t paying any mind to Nat, and you looked at her with wide eyes. She hurried towards you both just as he crossed the threshold, and that was when he finally turned his gaze on her. It was in this moment that Peter looked wholly unfamiliar to you. The shift in his face made him look monstrous, dark eyes cold and smile unnervingly wide. Even his teeth looked off, canines too perfect.

“I thank you for looking after her, but she’s coming home now. Right, princess?”

There was that nickname again, and you shuddered when he turned his gaze to you. His unblinking gaze held you captive, and you finally admitted to yourself what you’d been denying for months.

You were afraid of him.

By extension, you feared for Nat too, so against every cell in your body, you turned to her.

“You know what, Nat? It’s fine. Really,” you quickly added at her frown. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Peter had started pulling you away before you were even done speaking, your bare feet pressing into the ground as he walked back to your house. You couldn’t stop your tears from falling, and you looked towards the moon with a grimace. When you made it inside, he still hadn’t let you go.

“Why would you want to be away from me?” he wondered.

You tried to pull your hand away, but he only tightened his grip. The perfect smile on his face did not match his cold eyes and harsh hold. The house was dark, and in this lighting, Peter seemed to really tower over you. Had he always been so tall? When you blinked, it was as if you’d imagined it, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut.

When you opened them, his face was closer, and you leaned away. In the darkness it looked so skeletal, gaunt, but when you backed up and he followed you into the light, there was no trace of it.

“I don’t,” you finally answered his question. “Nat’s my friend, and I just…”

You trailed off when he brought his hands to your neck. He curled them around your throat lightly before trailing them over your shoulders and down your arms.

“You don’t love me anymore,” he suddenly mumbled with a deep frown, and you released a shuddering breath.

“That’s not true-.”

“You haven’t touched me in months. What am I supposed to think?”

His eyes glinted at you in the light, and your face crumbled.

“Peter…what happened on that trip?”

He chuckled, reaching up to touch your cheek.

“You’re so silly,” he purred. “I told you… I don’t remember.”

His tone was too light, too innocent, and he followed as you backed up.

“You don’t think I’m lying…do you?”

His voice was like nails on a chalkboard to you. In the darkness, you swore that his features kept shifting, expression sinister one minute then completely innocent the next. You couldn’t even fight as he pushed you down onto the couch, looking down his nose at you.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Peter sighed, looking at you as if you were a child. His hand found it’s way into your hair, pulling your head back a bit, and he leaned in.

“You’ve been acting so odd for months, princess.”

His words seemed mocking to you. Especially so considering that it wasn’t you who was acting strange. Peter never used to be so rough with you. He never called you princess He never watched you throughout all hours of the night, slinking around like some sinister shadow. Peter wasn’t this…and this wasn’t Peter.

Who would believe you?

Even Nat had merely opted to just let you pour your heart out. If you left him…what would you say? What would you tell your parents? What would you tell May? She was like a second mother to you, and what would she say if you told her that the man you all brought home was not Peter? Instead, some sinister doppelganger?

“Things were so great right after we came home…”

They weren’t.

“I made you come around me so many times that night,” he quietly continued, leaning in. “…and now you can barely stand to look at me.”

His hand was on your face, cupping your chin and holding you still. His fingers felt bruising on your skin, pressing into the bone, and you winced.

“It hurts me,” he breathed, nostrils flaring. “…because all I thought about was you. Getting back to you.”

You reached up to push at his chest.

“I clawed my way back to you, and you can’t even touch me? What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

His tone had hardened, voice icy and paralyzing.

“You’re not…”

You licked your lips, and his gaze was drawn to the movement.

“You’re not Peter,” you finally whispered, and his eyes widened.

“Of course, I am,” he cooed, brushing his lips over your cheek. “Don’t I look like Peter?”

He kissed your lips, a soft peck to your mouth.

“Don’t I sound like Peter?”

His voice grew deeper and deeper, and he placed his hand over yours on his chest, sliding it down.

“…don’t I feel like Peter?”

You shook your head, more tears falling.

“You’re not him…you’re not him…”

You tearfully repeated that, and the man before you, the man wearing your boyfriend’s face, sighed.

“Oh, princess,” he exhaled. “You’re so confused.”

He forced your hand past the waistband of his pants, making you wrap your hand around him. You shuddered when he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“Let me help you…let me remind you…”

A strength you didn’t know he possessed kept you in place as he grinded himself against you on the couch. His teeth were borderline vicious as they grazed your skin, hands tearing at your clothing. Every time you pushed at him, he only grinned before leaning in to kiss you. His lips were rough and hungry against yours, breathing you in and tasting you.

Silent tears wet your face, and Peter wiped them away with his tongue. His bare chest grazed yours as he forced you down onto your back

“Peter,” you shakily protested, wincing at the harsh tug on your underwear.

He shushed your cries, fighting back against your every resistance. The light from the street bled through the blinds, catching his face just right and casting ominous shadows along it. Your vision blurred from your tears, and you swore in that moment that his entire face was different. Something inhuman staring down at you.

When he pushed his cock into you, even that felt foreign. You swore that he felt longer…thicker…and the stretch almost burned. His hands were wrapped around your wrists, holding them down, nails digging into your skin. His groan was borderline animalistic, and you cried out, trying to get away, pressing yourself further into the couch.

Peter’s hold made your bones ache, body screaming out in protest at his brutality. You felt trapped in a nightmare, held down and ravaged by some entity that wore your boyfriend’s face. His hips curving into yours, cock sliding along your walls, made your skin crawl. You could feel your stomach churning, twisting uncomfortably, and you swore you’d be sick.

He went in to kiss you, and you turned your head away. The man before you only chuckled to himself, running his nose long your jaw, breathing you in. He buried his face into your neck, and for a split second, his back hunched in a way that made your eyes widen, the bones of his spine protruding from the skin.

You let out a scream, the sound dying down into a fit of sobs. You looked towards the ceiling, and when your gaze fell back down, not a hair looked out of place. Your tears were salty on your lips, and you let out a shaky gasp, swearing that you could feel his length deep in your gut.

“Peter,” you heard yourself murmuring. “Where are you?”

Your voice was quiet, barely audible, and he shushed you.

“I’m right here, princess…”

“No…you’re not,” you choked out, shaking your head. “You’re not.”

“Yes,” he hissed, the sound serpentine in nature. “I’m right here.”

His body felt like it was crushing yours, and you struggled to breathe. You swore that you were suffocating, and Peter let your hands go to take your face into his hands. He kissed you fiercely, and you sobbed into his mouth. His fingers pressed into your skin, and for a moment they felt sharper. He bit your lip, drawing blood.

“I’m right here…and I’m not going anywhere.”

#dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction

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rebelwrites · 2 months

Text

Twenty Three: Don’t Make A Scene

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

“How is everyone doing back home?” I hummed, leaning against the wall of the Ferrari hospitality area, a smoke hanging from my lips as I squinted at my phone screen trying to block out the Italian sun, even with the raybans shielding my eyes it wasn’t enough. Everything was different here, I had never really traveled outside of Charming, well apart from the occasional run with Jax back in my teenage years. But this was different, the warmth of the sun beating down against my skin felt like I was being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. There was something comforting about it and I couldn’t help but smile.

Everything so far had been somewhat of a culture shock, I had tried foods that I would have never dreamt of trying, and even though I was still trying to adjust to the time difference I was living my best life.

“Everyone is good, in fact everything is perfect,” Jax smiled back, there was something about it that didn’t sit right with me. Not only wasn’t it as bright as normal but he had a haunted look on his blue eyes.

“Tell that to your face,” I scoffed, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “You look like someone just took a shit on your Harley.”

I stared intently at my device, watching as my older brother ran his hands over his face. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he paused, obviously trying to think of what lie to spin. “There is nothing for you to worry about, I’ve got everything under control. Now enough about me, Squirt, how is Monza treating you?”

“It’s amazing, Jax,” I beamed. I finally felt free from the weight of the world that always seemed like it was crushing me into the dirt. Part of me felt bad for feeling like this, but I had quickly realized that taking care of Pops and the club had taken a toll on my mental health, so it was nice to have a break from it all. Although that didn’t stop me from missing everyone. “Everyone is amazing, and they are already treating me like family. Fred has taken the role of my body guard which is highly amusing,” pushing myself off the wall I decided it was time to head back into the garage, not wanting to miss the start of free practice.

“As in team principal, Fred Vassuer?”

“That’s the one, being the new kid on the block the press are trying to get the latest gossip but anytime they try and get too close to me whilst Fred is around he gets all protective of me. It’s kinda cute, reminds me of Pops.” I grinned, glancing over I noticed that the pit crew had formed what looked to be a human wall at the front of the garage. There was some sort of commotion going on, I wasn’t quite close enough to hear what was happening but the moment I heard my name being screamed I felt my blood boil. It had been years since I heard that scratchy voice, the sound alone sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Squirt, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost, you have gone white as a sheet.” Jax asked, causing me to shift my attention back to him.

“I think I fucking have,” I mumbled, trying to stop the anger brewing deep inside me from bubbling over, causing me to explode, this was not the place, “that bitch has a fucking death wish.” I growled, flicking my gaze between my brother’s face and the opening of the garage.

“I can fucking see her, let me speak to my daughter.”

“There is no way,” Charles growled, venom dripping from his words. This was the first time I had seen this side of him but I wasn’t scared, in fact my heart skipped a beat at how protective he was being. “Sur mon putain de cadavre. Over my fucking dead body.”

I could feel the anger radiating through the phone screen from my brother, from the look on his face I was adamant he was going to jump on a plane to personally take care of the waste of space that was my birth mother.

“I am gonna fucking kill her,” Jax seethed, “She has no right crawling back into your life now, god I am so fucking angry right now!”

Taking a deep breath I knew I was going to have to take control of this situation, this was not the type of press coverage the team needed.

“Jax, I gotta go, don’t worry about me, I can handle this bitch,” I said, not taking my eyes off Charles. I could feel the anger radiating off him from the other side of the garage. “Charles is gonna snap and that isn’t good for him or the team.”

“Don’t make too much of a scene Squirt,” he hummed, cocking his brow at me.

“No promises.” I shrugged, before quickly saying bye.

Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my jeans I let out a shaky breath, I hadn’t seen this bitch since she last tried to make contact with me and Pops and the club chased her out of town.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Fred asked, appearing at my side.

“Je le serai, une fois que j'aurai mis cette salope à terre. I will be, once I put that bitch down.” I growled, clenching my fist by my side. She had no right trying to worm her way back into my life, I didn’t need her, she was dead to me.

“Il suffit de ne pas salir le sol et des blocs de glace se trouvent dans le réfrigérateur si vous en avez besoin. Just don't dirty the floor, and there are ice packs in the fridge if you need them.” Fred chuckled, taking my shaking fist in his hands squeezing softly. “Don’t let her get to you, kiddo.”

Slowly nodding at the Frenchman standing in front of me, I took a deep breath trying to steady my heart rate. I knew I needed to confront her otherwise she would never leave and reporters were already gathering around the garage trying to get the best shot of the disruption to the weekend. Within a few short strides across the room I found myself standing next to Charles, my hand instantly finding his, not caring if I outed our relationship at this moment. I needed his touch to keep me grounded and calm because I did not want my face plastered all over the gossip sites.

“The fuck do you want?” I said keeping my voice low and emotionless.

“I want to make amends, you are my daughter at the end of the day,” she pleaded. “I’ve changed, I went through rehab, I’m clean just for you baby.”

Rolling my eyes at the confession, did she think I was stupid? Her pupils were the size of dinner plates, she couldn’t stand still to save her life and was excessively sweating. I knew what her game was here and she wasn’t going to succeed in creeping her way back into my life, using me to get money.

“You ain’t clean,” I scoffed, leaning further into Charles. “Do you really think I would believe you? I ain’t that vulnerable five year old you left living in squalor just so you could get your next fix.”

“Fred, il faut la faire sortir d'ici. Fred, we've got to get her out of here.” Charles said, turning to his team principal.

I was moments away from lunging forward tackling the person who abandoned me, the main cause of my trust issues, the reason I carried demons on my back, but before I could step forward Charles wrapped his arms around my shaking body, holding me tight as he managed to guide me through the garage back to his driver room.

Once the door was shut I felt my resolve crumble, my fingers went into my roots as I slumped on the floor letting out a strangled scream. “Who the fuck does she think she is, coming here trying to act like the caring mother.” I growled, “you should have let me rip her apart.”

“Sunshine,” Charles whispered, crouching in front of me, placing a hand on my knee. “You need these right now,” he said softly, handing me a pack of cigarettes.

“I don’t,” I whispered, resting my hand on his cheek. “I just need you.”

“Je suis là, bébé, je ne vais nulle part. I'm here, baby, I ain't going nowhere.” he hummed, wrapping his arms around me, pressing small kisses against the top of my head. “Why would she come here now?”

“Because you have money and she is a gold digger, she must have seen the posts about us and thought she could get a massive pay day,” I breathed, gripping onto Charles’ fireproofs like my life depended on it, “and she knew if she tried to step foot in Charming, Pops would kill her with his bare fists.”

“Well, if she tries to come near you again I will drive over her with my car at 200 miles an hour.”

“Char, that would cause too much damage to the car,” I said with a slight laugh. Letting out a shaky breath I looked over his shoulder to the clock on the wall. “Five minutes till FP1 you better get going.”

“I can’t leave you, not like this.”

“I will be fine, promise,” I nodded, resting my forehead against his, “I’m gonna go chill with Fred, we might even make a list of different ways to kill her, you know just some light bonding nothing major.”

I knew Fred would make me feel better, there was something about him that reminded me of Pops, he happily took me under his wing in Zandvoort making me feel right at home within the team. I knew Charles had told him everything he needed to know about me and my past, which was the reason he was so protective over me when the devil made her appearance in the garage.

“Just don’t go all psycho killer on me now baby,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against my lips.

“Don’t spoil all my fun, Mr,” I hummed, a small smile appearing back on my face. “Now go kick some ass out there.”

I found myself staring blankly at my boyfriend, trying to process the words that had just casually fallen out of his mouth.

“Hold on a second, you want me to drive that?” I stated, pointing at the SF-23 that was currently sitting in the middle of the garage.

“Were you not listening to me, Sunshine,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss against my temple.

“I was listening, but you do realize how crazy you sound right now? I don’t even have a super license, we would get into a shit load of trouble if anyone knows I took her on the track. She aint set up for me Char,” I rambled, not taking my eyes off the car, “there is no way. Aint happening, I will kill myself do you know how fast that thing is.”

The sound of Charles laughing caused me to tear my gaze away from the middle of the garage, cocking my brow at him, it was official he had completely lost his mind.

“Babygirl, it’s fine, we are all good, no one will know, trust me. Plus we aren’t in parc ferme conditions yet,” he smirked, slowly guiding me towards the car. “All I ask is don’t crash, I kinda need her for quali tomorrow.”

“You are fucking crazy, Leclerc.” I shot back, refusing to believe he was being serious. “We shouldn’t even be here, everyone has gone home.”

“Thought you loved driving fast?” he hummed, that cocky smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“Yeah in my beater of a truck, that if I am lucky will hit 70 miles an hour, or Jax’s Dyna, not a beast of a machine that is built for speeds of 200 miles an hour plus.”

“Fine, if you won’t drive this, what about this?” he said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket, placing them in the palm of my hand.

Dropping my gaze I ran my fingers over the bead keyring Elenor had made for him, my heart fluttering at the fact he had this on his keys, “wait, isn't this your Pista?”

“You talk too much,” he winked, moving so his arms were wrapped firmly around my waist, in one quick motion I had been thrown over his shoulder and was staring at his ass.

“Well, this is the best view ever,” I giggled, praying that he didn’t lose his grip as he carried me out to the track. “You drop me and I will kill you.”

“Quoi, comme ça ? What, like this?” he said, jolting his body causing me to cling onto him for dear life.

“Fucking asshole.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x you #Charles Leclerc x female oc #Charles Leclerc imagine #f1 #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader

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literatecowboy · 9 months

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Dr. Feelgood

5. The Seaside

Part 1

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley. Warnings: Mature 18+, MDNI, voyeurism, masturbation, flirting and pining, wounds and medical care, discussion of medicine and doctoring

-----

It was cold outside as you hugged Gaz, kissing his cheek before you released him and patted him on the shoulder.

“You boys be safe, you hear me? I don’t want to come get you and find one of you has gotten hurt,” you said, wrapping Soap into a hug and kissing his cheek when he presented it to you with a smile.

“Don’t worry about us, lass, we’ll be alright,” he said. You hugged Price next and he squeezed you tight.

“Keep Ghost out of trouble,” he murmured, patting you on the shoulder as he headed for the plane. Ghost was leaning against the car you’d driven to the airfield in, quietly supervising as you bid them goodbye.

“Don’t give her too much trouble,” Gaz teased, offering Ghost a wave as Soap clapped him on the shoulder.

“Be back soon, mate. Gonna miss you on this one.”

And then they were off, headed onto the plane as you and Ghost climbed back into the car. He’d taken the driver’s seat this time and instead of heading back towards the buildings, he steered the car off base and toward the seaside.

“Breakfast sound good to you?” he asked.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re giving me a choice,” you laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

He ignored you.

—

A little while later, you found yourself sitting across from Ghost in a booth at a diner in a tiny town by the sea. He watched you as you ate, only occasionally lifting his mask to sip the tea he’d ordered, and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“So you ask if I want to have breakfast, bring me here, and then don’t eat. Are you feeling alright?” you asked, setting your fork down and leaning your head in your palm as you watched him.

“M’ fine,” he grunted, finishing his tea and pulling his mask back down. “Thought some time out here would do you some good,” he admitted. You smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“It is pretty, this place. Do you come here very often?” you asked. The waitress came to the table to leave the bill and clear some of your dishes. Before you could reach for it, Ghost paid. You frowned.

“Can I pay you back for my food? You didn’t eat anything,” you protested, pulling your wallet out.

“No.”

—

After you left the diner you meandered slowly along the grassy banks by the water, listening quietly to the birds calling and the waves crashing. It was a cold day - nobody was out and about, and you shivered as you sat with Ghost on a bench to admire the scenery.

“You’re cold,” he said, slipping out of his jacket and offering it to you.

“Careful, Ghost, I might start thinking this is a date,” you said with a laugh as you wrapped it around your body. It was massive and warmed you up instantly, and it smelled like him. You were going to keep it.

He stayed silent at your remark, sliding his arm along the back of the bench beside you. You did your best to lean back into it without overtly cuddling into him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Ghost’s chest was tight and his heart was racing as he played absentmindedly with the ends of your hair. For the first time in a long time, he had tuned out the world around him as you sat with him on the bench. He spread his legs discreetly until your thighs touched.

“My name is Simon,” he said. You looked up at him, your eyes wide.

“Simon,” you murmured the name out loud and decided it sounded good on your lips. He seemed to like it too - he closed his eyes and smiled beneath his balaclava.

—

The day went by too quickly for your liking.

After telling you his name, Simon’s floodgates had truly opened. You had talked for hours on the bench by the sea, and even though you contributed the most to the conversation verbally, you started to feel as if you’d known the man for years.

Eventually, he took you to get your first authentic fish and chips meal. You had stuck mostly to the chips and he’d finished your fish for you. He’d taken you to a little market, showing you what sort of tea he liked the best and holding the shopping basket as you filled it with British candy to sample when you got back home.

It was evening when you returned to base. Simon paused at the med bay doors but you shook your head.

“You’re healing up well, big guy. I think I can send you back to your bed now,” you said. Your chest tightened a little - you’d miss his almost constant presence, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

Ghost seemed hesitant, as if he’d miss you too. He walked with you down the hall and saw you to your door, and you hugged him before you slipped in. He closed his eyes and squeezed you gently, ignoring the pain in his abdomen as he pulled you close and did his best to memorize how your body felt against his.

“Just knock on the adjoining wall if you need anything,” you said. You shut your door.

—

Simon lay on his bed in the dark, his eyes closed. His phone lay on his chest, your contact profile glowing brightly on his screen. He’d set one of the photos he’d taken of you that day by the sea as your contact photo and had spent ages looking at it, thinking.

A soft, muffled noise broke the silence from your side of the wall and his chest tightened. Another followed it - soft buzzing - and it made Simon go rigid in bed.

He laid stock still, listening to your quiet, breathy moans and whimpers. The buzzing sound picked up in intensity and Simon felt himself stiffen in his pants as blood rushed to his cock.

He felt dirty as he unbuckled and took down his pants as quietly as he could so as not to disturb you and started palming himself through his boxers, doing his best to resist the urges surging through his body. Words from the other side of the wall made him freeze.

“Fuck, Simon,” you gasped breathily.

He pictured you then, splayed out beneath him as he fucked into you slowly, the size of his cock making your eyes water and your mouth fall open in pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to take your hand in his, pin you down, and grind his hips into yours, peppering kisses across your breasts as you begged for him.

Simon couldn’t help himself anymore. He freed himself from his boxers and used the precum dripping down his tip as lube as he worked his fist up and down his length, straining to hear your lovely sighs as you pleasured yourself to thoughts of him mere feet away.

“Fuck, yes, Simon!” you cried out, a little louder this time. The headboard of your bad smacked against the wall once, twice. He pictured your body jerking uncontrollably as you came with his name on your lips, and couldn’t stop his orgasm from surprising him. The buzzing on the other side of the wall stopped.

Simon caught his breath, tearing his balaclava off and leaning his free hand against your shared wall, his heart aching.

—

“Good morning!” you called out as Simon came into the med bay. You were bent over by your desk, rummaging through your junk drawer as he wandered in.

“Need help looking for something?” he asked, coming up behind you and watching you search.

“It’s alright, I’ll find it later. I was just looking for extra printer paper,” you said, standing and brightening as you took him in. You recalled what you had done the previous night and your cheeks warmed.

“Get a good night’s rest?” you asked, scooping up the clean bandages you’d gathered to change his dressings and putting gloves on.

“Yes. You told me you wanted to start helping me rehab today?” he asked, tugging his shirt off and turning his side to you so you could check his wounds.

“Just some stretching and bending, okay? You’re healing quickly, and it’s time to get back into the swing of things.” You looked away as he undressed before peeling the old bandages off carefully, putting the new ones on as quickly as you could.

“Only if you help me,” he said with a chuckle.

“You can hold onto me if it would help you stay steady,” you offered. Simon jumped at the chance to lay his hands on you and stood closer, his hands finding your hips. You laughed and rolled your eyes, gently smacking his chest.

“Look at you, Mr. Handsy. One day out and we’re best friends now?” you asked, smiling up at him.

“You were right yesterday. It was a date, and I’m going to take you on another one later.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open in surprise and heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“You’re mischievous, Simon Riley,” you said with a giggle, smiling as you looked up at him. He smiled under his mask.

“And you’re wildly unprofessional, going on dates with patients. You might have to stay here a little longer,” he murmured. You shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’d be too fussed about that.”

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #mw2 #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader

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daze4all · 6 months

Text

Imagine: Mommy! Yukong Raises Baby! Bailu as aged up Baiheng Reincarnation & forms new Cloud Quintet

Imagine Mommy! Yukong raised Baby! Bailu Drabble:

Bailu Baiheng Reincarnation & Aged Up Bailu Concept

New Cloud Quintet: Older ! Bailu the Glue to keep Yanqing, Tingyun, Sushang & Qinque together!

Synopsis: Baby Reader/ Bailu. Reader SI maybe. Saved from wreckage of Ambrosial arbor 2nd Ambrosial wars. Vidahydra child born from eggs near arbor during the chaos.

Amidst the pained cries of her fallen comrades a smaller and shrill keening of a child? Among all this chaos? She blearily blinks ears ringing and eyes stinging and the smoky battlefield of burning & ruined starskiffs. Following the sounds for life Yukong stumbles upon the source nestled in the roots of the ambrosial arbor.

A child, dirty and crying with a few scratches but otherwise unharmed. In the scattered remains of pearl shell. A purple fluffy haired child barely a toddler trying in vain to writhe in escape. To flee the cacophony of battle. However falling to and toppling over into Yukong’ shocked arms.

“What’s a child doing here?” she picks up the child from the rubble. Holding the small warm form close to her chest . A hope for new life while around her the world is burning and so many of comrades are falling like shattered stars from their star skiffs.

“Don’t worry you are safe. I promise. I’ll raise you with my friends child” tears in Yukong’s as she hold the crying child that clutches at her for comfort as the burning sky reflects in her eyes ”I may not have been able to save her but for her I’ll save you”

Mother! Yukong defends Bailu from preceptors & raises Bailu alongside foxian childhood friends daughter as sisters.

-They play sky pilot & gunner together with Bailu Reincarnation of Baiheng but the Gunner

B/c Bailu is a terrible pilot that keeps crashing them lol as ironic;

As Baiheng was said to do Risky maneuver like crashing the planes to win battles

- Explosive energetic extrovert a trickster who plays pranks.

- Perhaps for attention like how she ran way from responsibilities and also to be seen as less serious /responsible to avoid the high elder role.

Yukong & Sister Gives Older! Bailu the support and love needed to defy elder find her own path & be social

Bailu is more social due to having a sister (Yukong friends daughter) each pushing to follow dreams

Bailu to defy the elders decision of her as high elder & her sister to be pilot against Yukong wishes

Bailu wants carve her own path beside being high elder she was told she was born to be.

Like to defy tradition and try new things.

Maybe joined cloud knights instead of influenced by Yukong & friends in cloud knights Sushang & Yanqing & if raised/taught by Jing Yuan

3. Alternate! Older! Bailu as Baiheng Reincarnation Raised by Yukong

New high cloud quintet with Bailu the Glue ( cuz sad she too young to play with the older other Loufu kids)

Baiheng did high cloud quintets but more chaotic as outgoing types.

Baiheng The happy outgoing optimist to the grumpy serious Jingliu . Dan Heng, Blade along with easygoing kid Jing Yuan.

Purple hair resembles Baiheng, risk taker, foxy, and crafty.

Instead of the flyer Bailu is the gunner to her sister pilots dreams.

2. New Cloud Quintet: Older ! Bailu the Glue to keep Yanqing, Tingyun, Sushang & Qinque together!

Outgoing prankster pushy social .

-Joins cloud knights? but tries to install guns and firearm instead of outdated spears or swords

Easygoing bit slacker though likes to take risks chances gamble with qinque as part of the club,

occasionally spars with yanqing likes to tease as he too rigid and proper by the book and she is easygoing breaking rules and skipping her duties

Older! Bailu jokes he should give sup sword for use guns and get with the times as he’s young~

Foxian friends & Fan sisters with Tingyun. trade gossip fan pictures and loves to gear stories of her travel wishing she too could be travel the stars as influenced by Baiheng’s trailblazer blood

-Great gunner and shooter prefers guns rather than bow and arrow though she did learn from Yukong found the gun easier since just point and Bam!

Aged up! Bailu & reincarnation of Baiheng forms New Cloud Quintet: Older ! Bailu the Glue to keep Yanqing, Tingyun, Sushang & Qinque together!

cuz i feel bad bailu looks young but actually old+high elder so misses out on socializing w/ rest of Loufu kids during ghost hunting event

#hsr bailu #honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #honkai star rail x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail bailu #hsr yanqing #sushang #high cloud quintet #yukong #honkai star rail baby reader

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cielsosinfel · 5 months

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Some tidbits from the Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus adventure module (2019) that I want to save for future fanfic-writing pondering.

What Is Avernus? (p.75) Avernus serves as the front line of the great clash between the evil forces of chaos and law known as the Blood War. Demons from the Abyss use the River Styx to enter Avernus, where they hurl themselves against infernal legions of devils.

Avernus was not always the blasted, war-torn battlefield it is today. Long ago, it was a plane of lush gardens and bucolic beauty created by Asmodeus to tempt mortals. The intrusion of the River Styx followed by endless waves of slavering demons destroyed this paradise, leaving layer upon layer of bones, ruins, and shattered war machines. Pieces of cities stolen from other planes, tiny remnants of Avernus' lost beauty, evidence of destroyed celestial armies, and tombs of ancient travelers all dot the Avernian wasteland.

Avernus is not a place expressly for the punishment of evil souls; instead, it represents a "next level" for evil souls after the end of their wicked lives as mortals. The Nine Hells allows souls to exist in a concentrated form, where they can work through their spiritual bondage to express their dark desires such as cruelty, covetousness, the need to control, the craving for power, and uncontrolled greed. Hell offers an eternity of fulfillment from the most insignificant desires to the seven deadly sins. Every shred of evil is used in the Nine Hells, and each layer specializes in some way to accommodate and exploit the vices and weaknesses of mortals. The devils of Avernus seek to exploit pride and wrath, promising the aggrieved, enraged, and egotistical the power to fulfill their darkest obsessions. Such fulfillment, however, comes at a price.

Anyone entering Avernus finds a battlefield unlike anywhere else in existence. Evidence of past carnage, such as ruins of enormous war machines and fields of bleached bones, stretches across the horizon. Through it all, the River Styx winds its way across the plane as knots of demons and devils skirmish along its fetid banks.

Most devils in Avernus serve Zariel, though other Lords of the Nine send forces here to help repel demonic invaders. Devils who are not part of Zariel's legions serve as emissaries from the other layers or as spies for archdevils seeking signs of weakness that they can exploit to further their dreams of power.

Features of Avernus (p76)

The hellscape of Avernus sits under hideous clouds that obscure the vault of the sky, from which the occasional meteor streaks before crashing into the ground. Ambient light continually swells up from just below the horizon as thought lit by nine setting suns, yet no actual celestial bodies fill the sky, no sun, moons, or stars. This constant twilight makes it difficult for the denizens of Avernus to track the passage of time.

The atmosphere reeks of brimstone and burning tar, and hot gusts of wind shriek across the hellscape to scour the land below. Sometimes these winds swirl into immense sandstorms, which can strip flesh from bone and plunge everything into darkness.

Biting flies, hellwasps, and blood-sucking stirges patrol the air, hunting for any source of blood to feed on. Swarms of them can grow so large that they blacken the sky and deafen the ears with the sound of their wings. On the ground, wandering bands of nupperibos-blind, bloated castaways of the damned-move in thousands like living lakes of groaning flesh in their agonizing search for food. Bone fields, quicksand, bubbling tar pits, lakes of lava, canyons of wailing souls, and salt flats made from the tears of the damned all await those who wander the hellscape.

River Styx(p76)

The River Styx courses through the Lower Planes, frustrating every attempt to map it or predict its course. Getting lost while sailing the Styx isn't the only danger the river presents. Simply tasting or touching its waters can shatter a creature's intellect and personality, as well as strip away its memories. Certain fiends are immune to the river's effects, but most creatures have no defense against it.

Demon Ichor(p78) Demon ichor is what remains behind after a demon dies. It's a reduction of demonic blood, viscera and bodily fluids with the consistency and odor of bile. Enough demons die in Avernus that their ichor forms pools and small lakes. Although the ichor is harmless on most planes of existence, it can warp creatures on the Lower Planes. Devils and other creatures have found ways to use demon ichor in rituals and to improve the performance of infernal war machines.

Commerce (p78) When it comes to the souls of mortals, the Nine Hells is always open for business. In Avernus, the business is war, making sure the frontlines of the Blood War are continuously replenished with fresh troops, weapons, armor, and war machines. The main drivers behind this infernal commerce are treasure and soul coins. Treasure is only valuable to devils because of its efficacy in tempting and twisting mortals (humans in particular) toward lives of corruption, ultimately leading them to forgeit their souls. Because gold has been used for millenia in the Nine Hells, adventurers can find gold coins from civilizations long lost to history. Silver is Harmful to devils. nevertheless, devils trade silver to those wishing to eliminate rivals in their path.

Food and Drink (p78) Wisdom (survival) checks to forage in Avernus are made at disadvantage. Water exists, but tastes foul and is hard to find. Food can likewise be scrounged, but the flora and fauna taste revolting no matter the manner of preparation. Even rations brought to Avernus taste bitter and ashen.

Infernal Order of Battle (p.76) Whereas demons attack in disorganized mobs, relying on shock and overwhelming numbers to carry the day, devils organize into a basic unit called a legion. Each contains one thousand devils organized as follows:

1 legion = 10 cohorts, commanged by a legate 1 cohort = 10 lances, commanded by a signifier 1 lance = 10 devils, commanded by an optio Ranks of miserable lemures and nupperibos compose the base of dreg legions, while bearded devils and merregons make up the bulk of regular legions. Each legion sports a unique name, usually denoting its purpose and numerical designation. Examples include the following:

5th Infantry legion, "Infernal Absolution" 13th Cavalry Legion,"Bel's Fury" 47th Dreg Legion, "Piteous Fodder"

"Life In The Nine Hells (p.9) Paradise Lost Before the Blood War reduced it to a blasted wasteland, Avernus was a honey trap created by Asmodeus, a paradise of infinite delights designed to lure and enrapture mortals. Fragments of this lost paradise still plunge from Avernus' sky as burning meteors, and the land is dotted with the ruins of palaces and idyllic gardens that were obscenely beautiful in eons past. Fleeting reminders of this ancient paradise can come to characters in the following ways:

While traveling across Avernus, the characters glimpse a fantastic mirage: a grand palace or garden oasis that vanishes when they get within 100ft of it.

A random character hears beautiful music or laughter, catches the scent of flowers or perfume, or experiences a gentle caress. The sensation has no discernible source and fades after a few moments.

The characters find a relic that survived the fall of paradise, such as a beautiful vase or toppled statue. The first character to touch the relic experiences a fleeting moment of pure joy.

Anywhere is Everywhere

Geography warps at the whims of the Nine Hells. One of the liberating aspects of this planar feature is that you don';t need to be fastidious about keeping track of where locations are in relation to one another.

While the spatial distortion can be unsettling to visitors, it affords you the following benefits as a DM:

You can decide how long it takes for characters to get from one place to the next. For ex., the characters might need to travel 6 miles to get from Fort Knucklebone to Haruman's Hill, and 60 miles to get from Haruman's Hill back to Fort Knucklebone.

If the characters are in a rush to get somewhere, an imp could appear out of nowhere and, for the price of a soul coin or other valuable item, show them a shortcut that halves the distance the characters must travel to reach their destination.

The Wandering Emporium (p. 126 [emporium of merchants under the auspices of Mahadi, a rakshasa businessman and information broker who does business in across the nine hells and material plane with Asmodeus as his patron]) can show up almost anywhere in the Nine Hells, at any time. If the players don't know where to go or what to do next, or if you want to surprise them with fun roleplaying opportunities, have the Wandering Emporim arrive at the party's location, regardless of where they last saw it.

Everything's Awful Avernus is insidious in the way it fosters greed and makes visitors pay or barter for the things they need to survive. Most of the wildlife on Avernus is not edible to mortals, and most sources of water are poisonous or otherwise tainted. The rarity of edible food and drinkable water encourages hoarding behavior.

You can remind players about the awfulness of Avernus in the following ways:

Any food or drink the characters bring with them or conjure by magic retains its nutritional value but tastes awful when eaten or imbibed on Avernus. The food tastes like ash, the water tastes like bile, and the wine tastes like spoiled milk.

If the characters want something that tastes good, they must buy it from licensed sellers such as Mahadi the rakshasa, who runs a restaurant called Infernal Rapture (see page 219). The price of good-tasting meal is always a bit too high.

#mine poste #reference #avernus #bg3 #did i buy this just so i could use it for raphael fanfic writing purposes yes #not rly bg3 but its literally the set up for bg3's world setting lmao #i'll post more later i'm still reading through the book

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hippolotamus · 11 months

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Tagged by @panbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @heartbeatdiaz @spotsandsocks @prince-buck-diaz @alyxmastershipper @buddierights Thank you loves 🥰

Soooo, I, uh, may have started a new WIP today. It in no way resembles how I thought my writing would go today (I know, I know... when does it ever?)

Eddie Diaz is eleven years old when he meets the love of his life. His parents have finally agreed to take the family on a vacation that isn’t a week away at Abuela and Abeulo’s ranch. They even got to ride on a plane for part of the trip. From the balcony of their rented house, Eddie stares at the crashing waves of the Pacific, watching the water recede and roll back in again. He’s never seen anything like it in his life. How the sun reflects off the water, making it shimmer, like someone had dipped the ocean itself in gold. The endless stretch of sandy beach is a colorful mishmash of umbrellas, patterned towels and blankets, grown ups laying out, and kids gleefully running through the surf. There’s seagulls taking calculated dives for the chance of snatching someone’s sandwich, and other shorebirds cautiously skittering near the waterline. In the distance, there’s a pier to the left and right that he fully intends to explore. At his mother’s instruction, he helps get his baby sister changed into her swimsuit while his parents pack bags and a cooler of drinks and snacks. Finally, finally his family leaves the house to search for an open patch to lay their things. An anxious current runs under his skin as he spreads out a large blanket and hastily sets up a folding chair. The sand under his toes is hot and gritty, making him all the more eager to be off dry land. Before anyone can tell him what to do next, Eddie dashes away from the blanket, grinning from ear to ear. He loves the sound of his bare feet slapping against the cool, damp earth; how the foamy surf bubbles over his skin and blueish, greenish water laps at his shins, occasionally licking up his thighs. It’s warm and pleasant, heated from the midday sun, enticing him to wade in further. Why did it take so many years for his parents to finally bring them here? Eddie tests out the water in every way he can think of – floating on his back, swimming out against the current, riding the waves back to shore. Out here he feels… free. There’s no expectation to be man of the house (whatever that means), do better in school so he can get into a good college later, or to babysit his sisters. Part of him wishes he could stay here in the ocean, uninhibited. At least he has five more days to just be before it all comes crashing down on him again. He suddenly becomes aware of a commotion on the beach. People are shouting and he realizes they’re trying to get his attention. They point in his direction, but he’s still not entirely sure what he’s supposed to notice. When Eddie looks around he realizes he’s drifted well beyond the other swimmers and his feet can’t touch bottom anymore. He doesn’t panic – not yet – he took swim lessons and can figure out a way back to shore. Eddie takes a deep breath and raises his right arm, ready to cut through the water one stroke and kick at a time. He’s just about to reach forward when he feels the wet, heavy smack on the back of his head, plunging him into darkness.

No pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @heartshapedvows @911onabc @monsterrae1 @eowon @the-likesofus if you wanna

#is the love of eddie's life a handsome merperson?#...perhaps #human eddie merperson buck #fuck it friday #fic: run to the water (and find me there)#this was supposed to be a penpal situation #whoops #wip: writer in peril

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qapsiel · 3 months

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@bloodsalted ;; angelic injury prompts (still accepting) Dean said: “I didn’t know you could be hurt like this—”

IT'S AN AMBUSH: One moment, they walk along the stony shore of the stream, the next second, four Leviathan are upon them. They find their bearings quickly, but they're still outnumbered, and Castiel only has eyes for Dean and how one of those ugly atrocities has him in a chokehold. "Dean!" he shouts, trying to get to him in time; he doesn't notice the Leviathan behind himself until a sharp, all-consuming pain shoots through his shoulder blades and down his spine, and he's wrenched backward and to the ground. The male-looking monster bears its teeth with hundreds of pointy, sharp teeth, and Castiel feebly reaches out to try and smite it, but it's too late, the Leviathan lunges down and–––

Dark, black blood spatters across his face and chest. The severed head hits his belly and then rolls into the stream, where it swims away like an ugly piece of driftwood. The damn vampire grins down at Castiel, who is too proud to thank him. His eyes flicker toward Dean, who's making short work of the last Leviathan, and the adrenaline leaves him in one big rush. The downside is that all the pain comes crashing to the forefront of his mind again. Castiel pants through clenched teeth and carefully rolls onto his stomach to put the pressure off his back. He leaves a trail of slick blood behind, which gives off a faint, bluish shimmer. The stench of ozone is in the air around him.

"What is with him?" Benny asks somewhere to Castiel's right. Dean says something he can't understand, then kneels next to the angel. Castiel feels the warmth of his hand on his shoulder and risks a quick glance up. His right wing is mangled; the soft flesh between the humerus and radius is torn open and oozing blood and grace. Of course, since they still exist on another plane of existence that humans (or vampires) can't see, it must look to them like the air above Castiel's right shoulder is dropping blood and the occasional grey covert. Castiel looks away because the sight makes him sick and presses his forehead to the smooth, cool surface of a big stone. "I didn't know you could be hurt like this—," Dean says, which makes Castiel bark a laugh. It sounds a little crazy. "You can't. He can't," he adds, meaning the vampire. "Only other angels. And, I suppose, Leviathans because they're even older than angels." His voice breaks, and he has to take another deep breath to deal with the fresh wave of pain.

#bloodsalted #( v: purgatory )#(PURGATORY DIXON)#(violence and angst and pain and blood!)#violence tw #( dyn: bloodsalted ❤️ It's the beat that my heart skips when I'm with you )

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zahri-melitor · 3 months

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Okay. I’ve started Rebirth and read the opening stories of the following titles:-

Batman

Detective Comics

Nightwing

Batgirl

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey

I’m paused JUST before Night of the Monster Men and so I haven’t added All-Star Batman yet.

My first observation? Oh what a relief. It’s not perfect. There is work to do and it’s not a straight roll back to preboot but after reading my way through n52, characters and dynamics I recognise are back. It’s like DC suddenly remembered that people enjoy characters interacting with each other. And so, as best as I can tell, the concept was to sort of scatter everyone back to team positions that would make sense if the last comic you picked up was in 2011.

There is definitely some inferred off-screen characterisation going on: both Dick/Babs and Tim/Steph are extant relationships again. Dick and Babs had been longing ‘will they’ exes for the last 5 years of writing where they kept being out of sync with each other (the last time the two were actively dating on page was in 2003; the failed engagement was 2006, and they’d been caring exes shading back to flirting from about 2010 onwards). Tim/Steph broke up in 2004 and at BEST were amicable for 2009-2011.

Batman: Rebirth #1 – this is just a really lovely little stand alone issue that’s setting up Bruce taking Duke on as an active student. It’s just tightly written, with an interesting plot, nods at traditional characterisation, a less-used but known villain – it works really well as basically a training case for Duke. Note for everyone – Duke is still just a kid learning to be a vigilante at this point in the classic Robin model.

Batman #1-6 (2016): The team here is Bruce, Duke, Henry Clover and Claire Clover. This really feels like a back-to-basics storyline. The parallels between Henry and Bruce are not subtle, and they’re not meant to be; Bruce rescuing a family in his own situation and how it plays out is a well trodden story in DC, as is characters getting powers that the use of which ends up harming them. It was almost a modernisation of a Silver Age or Bronze Age story device that we’ve all seen plenty of times – which I guess makes sense for a Tom King story. I do have a soft spot for Claire here. This absolutely feels like a one-storyline-and-done set of characters (Gotham and Gotham Girl) who get hauled out occasionally in the future but mostly left alone. Waller seems somewhat more herself but unfortunately has still not recovered for her dieting. Every time they haul Psycho-Pirate out I wait for him to make some commentary on multiversal stuff, given he’s technically still on the shortlist of people who remember pre-Crisis, I believe?

Honestly, this storyline was mostly a relief after some of Snyder’s drama (said with full tongue in cheek over the fact it also included Bruce steering a crashing plane from the outside with cable and two rocket thrusters)

Nightwing: Rebirth #1 and Nightwing #1-4 (2016): This is very much a transitional storyline. It’s Dick’s story, but Damian, Bruce and Barbara are popping in and out of it. In terms of moving on fast from Grayson, the fact that Tim Seeley is writing this means that we don’t get a clean break (this is still basically a spy mystery story), but Dick putting back on the Nightwing suit with blue was such a moment of relief, I can’t tell you how big. He hadn’t worn that since 2009. It also unfortunately involves Court of Owls drama carried over from Batman & Robin Eternal and the 2011 Batman and Nightwing runs, but hey, Dick’s back talking to people, he sounds more like himself, he’s wearing BLUE, and he’s hanging out with Damian in a ‘I love him but he drives me up the wall’ way which is honestly not bad as characterisation. Also this line from Nightwing #2 (2016) stuck with me: “But Batman also taught me every life is worth saving. Even if it always seemed like I believed it more than he did.” While I have my quibbles over the second line (ACTUALLY Seeley that philosophy is pretty fundamental to Bruce), for Dick? At this exact moment in time? After recent events? It feels like a renewal. Every life is worth saving.

Damian here is an irritating little snot, but in the largely affectionate way he tends to get in better writing with Dick, and he’s still acting like a kid, which is always nice to see.

Detective Comics #934-#940: I’m not crying, my eyes are just watering, okay? Oh my GOD. This is Kate Kane, Tim, Cass, Steph and for some reason Basil Karlo on a team together. Okay. I see why Tynion’s run is considered a highlight. It’s not perfect, it’s in no way at all perfect, but Tynion took on an unenviable task (merging Tim, Cass and Steph into usable versions of their preboot characterisation/personalities grafted on to the existing situation of all three characters at the end of n52) and he did it in a way that spent a lot of time signalling that yes, he’s actually read their solo runs. They all had moments where they sounded like themselves and acted like themselves.

Tim still had his stupid arm computer and is at peak arrogance and at one point said “This is what happens when you give a sixteen-year-old genius who doesn’t sleep an unlimited budget” (sigh. SIGH. C’mon, Tynion) but my initial fears from the way the first issue was framed that Tim was going to be treated as less capable than Kate Kane (someone who, even in n52, Tim had spent more time as a vigilante than) were relieved by Tim slotting capably into the ‘support strategy’ role he is so good at. Of course as well then he is sort-of not-really playing around with the idea of moving on (he’s got his invite for university but you can read him as either ‘wanting to move on but trapped by Bruce inviting him back to being closer’ or as ‘Tim didn’t expect to get this, is stymied by it, and feels he’s being pushed about taking the opportunity if he lets people know’). It’s a concept he flirts with on occasion but can’t go through with. And then my sweet boy sacrifices himself and shows up Ulysses fucking Hadrian bastard Armstrong and… we get the acknowledgement that TIM IS THE GLUE. He’s just pulled this team into working together in a functional manner and we get “You were reconnecting threads that could not be reconnected. You’re so loved, so deeply intertwined. It became crucial that we take you off the field.” Which? He hasn’t been for 5 years of stories. That’s my boy, my fix-it Robin.

Steph…is sort of controlling and clearly lacking in training and has some edges to her and bickers with Tim? Which oh my god, I can see actual continuity with pre-War Games Steph here. It’s not perfect, she’s suddenly in an established relationship with Tim and quite focused on that, but I can see some Dixon in her! It’s a miracle!

Cass has had the hardest reboot of the lot and has lost 99% of her vocabulary and is back to her cryptid ways, but even there I can see Batgirl 2000 characterisation moments peeking through. She drops in the window while Tim is stripping down (Fresh Blood! FRESH BLOOD MY BELOVED. The parallels here!), she supports Tim during a fight but pushes Steph out of the way and takes over…that’s Cass’s assessment of their fighting abilities. That’s Steph overreaching her capacity and Cass dropping in to haul her out of trouble.

Kate Kane is very much Kate Kane and while I disbelieve that she and Bruce are really that close in age, this is the start of Rebirth and doing things like gently stretching back out the timeline so that we’re in Year 18 or so again, not Year 6. (Year 18 is rough back-of-the-envelope Year 3 = Graysons fall, Year 13 = ALPOD, Year 15 = NML, Year 17 = OYL to Reborn, then n52 is a single year). I like seeing her actually spend some time actively working with other Bat characters if she’s going to be fully integrated, rather than just turning up for events.

Batgirl #1-5 2016: oh Babs. While this run is winking at past Barbara characterisation (the use of Amy Beddoes as an alias! However there is no awareness that that is a name known by the Suicide Squad and Waller and not only heavily linked to Oracle, but to Barbara’s feelings about guns and Joker), it remains squarely in the ‘fluffy light storytelling that might be suitable for a 22-23 year old character but doesn’t match anything about Barbara Gordon’. I really wish this was good.

It is, I guess, an adequate tonal sequel to Burnside, and if that’s your Barbara you will probably enjoy it, but I can’t help but mentally want to slot every single one of these stories into a past history that occurred during Babs’ ORIGINAL stint at Batgirl.

The concept of Barbara going on a world training tour break isn’t bad and echoes Cass being sent off to Hong Kong (though Hong Kong is skipped over for Tokyo, Singapore, Seoul and Shanghai), but the heavy reliance on Barbara’s eidetic memory as her strong point and THEN Barbara ‘switching it off’ to be faster???

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey Rebirth & #1-6: It's Barbara, Dinah and Helena all on a team together? Miracles really do come true!

First point out of the gate: yes, I hate that this contains several take-thats at fans of Barbara as Oracle. I think they're mean spirited and exhausting to read. There is absolutely nothing wrong with fans of a team created by Oracle wanting to see it lead by ORACLE. THAT SAID, characterisationwise this is the closest I've had to my girls for a while.

Barbara is far more like Simone's n52 Batgirl than Burnside. She actually acknowledges aspects of her past, and the struggles it's brought with it and why that should have resulted in growth.

Dinah is unfortunately still running around as Dinah Drake Lance with the shitty n52 backstory retcon intact and reliance on the band stuff. Sorry, Dinah. The first run really didn't do much to recanonise anything preboot for Dinah, just outlined her new history, though Siu Jerk Jai got a few references.

Helena? Look. This is the fourth? version of Helena's origin I've read and it looks like it's most riffed off Huntress Year One, and it's sticking with Helena's mum having an affair, sigh. However, on the scale of "is this actually Helena Bertinelli", there is so much credit on the 'once again has a backstory that actually works as a Helena Bertinelli backstory' side of the ledger that I don't really care. This is about the process of rehabilitation, and Helena is not just a Bertinelli, but the first thing she does is butt heads with Barbara over their combined stubbornness and her refusal to take direction, soooo. Yeah, pretty stoked.

I will say, with this lineup of new histories, instead of being the "two cops' daughters and a mafia princess" group it's now the "Missing Mothers Who Might Be Evil Issues" team. Which is a downgrade. I wouldn't care about them bonding over their mothers so much if it wasn't stereotype missing mother hour.

Overall conclusion?

I became emotional reading Batman: Rebirth, 'Tec, and B&BOP. Even for their flaws they all were trying hard and hit me with what they were attempting to achieve.

This was in no way a complete fix, and heck DC is STILL untangling some of the threads that they started trying to fix here with Rebirth, 8 years later. But oh it is enjoyable to see writing teams actually try and act like yeah, people are allowed to like preboot characterisation.

#z canon read throughs #let's go rebirth #the worst I can say about any of these opening stories was that some were a bit average #I'll take 'average' over 'trying to make me gouge my eyes out working out how this makes sense' any day

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letmereadherbertwestfics · 6 months

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Combstober Day 8

Prompt: Campfire

Character: Mr. Brooks (I Still Know What You Did Last Summer)

Warnings: None

You had never understood why people liked to travel alone. Really, the idea terrified you. Being in an unfamiliar place with nobody else to share the experience with? What was so great about that?

But that was before this trip.

At the last minute, your friend got a violent case of food poisoning and had to cancel your trip to The Bahamas. While your friend had no choice but to not go, you couldn't afford to pay the fee it took to cancel your flight, and had been looking forward to the trip for so long that you couldn't bring yourself to cancel it. So, leaving your friend behind, you took the trip by yourself. And you had a fantastic time.

You still did everything that you and your friend had planned to do together, except without the stress and annoyance of having to drag someone else along with you. Sure, it was scary being alone at first, but after a night of hanging out at a poolside bar and then not having a wasted friend to drag back to your hotel room, your fears quieted down a bit.

And now it was your second to last night at the resort, and you were dreading the journey home. Not only because of all of the packing and preparation and the god awful boat and plane rides back to back, but just because you didn't want to leave. Not when you still hadn't gotten to talk to the mystery man behind the check in desk.

He was a few years older than you, cold and slightly rude, from what you could tell he was your average 'manager who hates his job but still runs the establishment like it's the Navy' types. And his name tag read Jay Brooks. And in your week and a half here, that was all the information you got out of him.

The two of you had exchanged nothing but casualties and a room key when you checked in, aside from his brief questioning of why the booking was listed as for two and you were only one, and whenever you smiled at him on your way to the pool he would react with either a dismissive stare or even an eye roll. But that didn't sway your interest in him in the slightest. If anything it only encouraged you to keep being pleasant towards him. Maybe before you left he would crack a smile. Or maybe not. Either way, you weren't going to be giving up.

Today the hotel had banners and fliers put up all over, advertising a bonfire out on the beach. There was going to be music, sparklers, and free drinks. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to waste an hour or two before heading back to your room, so you decided to go.

When you got to the beach you were only half surprised to see that it was thirty minutes past when the bonfire was supposed to happen and nobody had shown up. If there was one thing you noticed about the guests at this resort, it was that they kept to themselves. The karaoke machine at the bar remained untouched, and the pool was almost as silent as a library aside from the occasional drunk or unruly child. Finding out nobody else had decided to attend this party wasn't too surprising when you thought about it.

You were about to turn around and head back to your room when you realized there was someone sitting by the bonfire. And it only took a few more seconds for you to recognize the suffocatingly neat dress shirt and tie, and the annoyed scowl of Jay Brooks. This realization made your heart skip a beat, and you approached the bonfire a bit faster than before.

"Am I late to the party?" You asked, immediately cringing at how your voice sounded. Brooks looked up at the sound of a voice, looking you up and down before his gaze returned to the fire.

"Can't be late when there isn't an event." He said bluntly. You slowly lowered yourself onto the log across from Brooks, the bonfire separating the two of you.

There was an awkward yet slightly serene silence, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the crash of the waves. Brooks continued to stare into the fire while you stared at him, thinking you were going unnoticed until he interrupted your thoughts with a stern look in your direction.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Though Brooks didn't look like he was joking when he said this, you couldn't help but crack a smile. You shifted your gaze to the sand, tucking your hands in your pockets.

"Sorry." You muttered. Brooks sighed, unsurprisingly going back to looking at the flaming logs.

"You're the one staying in the Junior Suite?" Brooks asked suddenly, making your head snap up. Before you could ask him how he remembered, he gave you a nervous, almost shy smile and explained without being questioned. "You're the first guest to smile at me in weeks. That made you memorable."

His words made your smile widen. Was Brooks, the mysteriously cold resort manager, actually being nice to you? He actually noticed your acknowledgement instead of brushing you off? The realization that you had read him all wrong made your heart beat just a bit faster.

Relax, Y/N. You don't even know the guy.

But you wanted to. That was enough to get you to push any anxiety or insecurity out of your mind and get you to move one log over, closer to Brooks. Once the two of you were sitting directly across from each other, you held out your hand.

#jeffrey combs #i still know what you did last summer #jay brooks #mr brooks #i will finish this #combstober is alive and well

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screamdream3828 · 1 year

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Request - taivan angst, what led to Van tying herself to Tai

Enjoy!

Van had always been a bit of a night owl, but ever since the plane crash: things had got worse.

She dreamt of burning fire, the stench so strong it made Van question what was real.

The smoke was so thick she could taste it, wafting through the hair. She was stuck, and Jackie had left her. Left her to die, to burn.

So sleeping became harder after that. Much worse after the Wolf incident.

Many nights Van would wake up sweating and have to touch her own face as reassurance that it wasn’t hanging off, saturated in blood.

She thought things couldn’t get any worse, that the nightmares that plagued her sleep were beginning to slow down.

Then Tai started sleepwalking, and she found herself staying up even later.

She couldn't help it - she was worried about Tai, and wanted to make sure she was safe.

Van was a heavy sleeper when she did drift off, so she feared that Tai would get lost in the woods somewhere. Or worse, end up like Jackie.

The thought terrified her, almost more than the smell of a burning plane or the phantom pain of teeth clenching onto her jaw and tearing.

Staying awake was for her benefit almost as much as Tai’s, she craved the reassurance.

She needed the heavy breathe of her girlfriend against her neck, the solid weight of a body safely curled against her. It made things seem a lot less crazy.

Most nights, Tai would fall asleep quickly, and Van would watch her for a few minutes before turning out the light.

But some nights, Tai would toss and turn, mumbling incoherently under her breath.

Van knew that those were the nights when Tai was most likely to sleepwalk. She knew Tai like clockwork, like she knows her own body.

So on those nights, Van would stay awake even longer, keeping a watchful eye on Tai. She would prop herself up on the pillows, her eyes fixed on Tai's sleeping form.

She watched as Tai's chest rose and fell with each breath, and listened for any sounds that might indicate she was about to get out of bed.

Sometimes, Tai would move in her sleep, her arms flailing or her legs twitching. Van would reach out and touch her lightly, trying to calm her down.

Even though she was unconscious, almost always Tai would settle, limbs relaxing.

Other times, Tai would whimper softly, as if she was trapped in a bad dream. Van would stroke her hair and whisper soothing words until she settled back into a peaceful sleep.

Despite the long nights and the occasional bouts of exhaustion, Van found solace in watching over Tai.

She felt like she was doing something important, something that showed Tai how much she loved and cared for her.

At first it seemed to work. Tai didn’t sleepwalk for the first week that they slept in the attic together. Van deluded herself into believing it was the end of it.

But then one night when she had drifted off, a loud bang startled Van, and she shot up.

Tai was heading for the ladder back downstairs, clearly asleep.

Van moved quicker than she ever had, arms wrapping right around her girlfriends waist as she tried to tackle her to the ground as carefully as possible without waking the others.

“You’re okay” she breathed out, planting a kiss to Tai’s forehead as she tried to stop herself from shaking.

“It’s okay. You’re okay” she repeated more firmly, pressing Tai to the floor and intertwining their bodies together.

Van’s heart hammered painfully in her chest, as she watched Tai carefully. After a moment of resistance, her muscles went slack and she relaxed against the embrace.

“Everything will be okay” Van whispered into the silence, trying to convince herself.

...

Tai awoke the next day with no recollection of the events, as Van had expected.

She seemed understandably freaked out, and Van felt a rush of protectiveness flash through her. An urge to make sure she never felt so scared again.

Tai was on wood duty with Lottie, something Van typically felt drawn to watching.

She’d often end up in the forrest too, eyes glued to her girlfriends form as she lifted up the axe and send it through the branches with a satisfying thud.

Tai had taken a liking to the axe and almost always ended up assigned to wood duty. Not that Van was complaining of course, her arms looked fantastic swinging through the air.

She felt distracted that day, mind racing as she helped Lottie with cleaning. She thought of any way to keep Tai from sleep-walking, from getting into danger.

Then Lottie lays a jacket with long sleeves down to dry and Van has an idea.

It isn’t foolproof by any means and most certainly won’t be comfortable, but it’s the only logical thing and that’s how she pitches it to Tai, holding out the rope with a smirk.

She ignores how shaky her hands are, at how terrifying it had been to see Tai standing there - only steps away from plummeting down the ladder.

If she closes her eyes and thinks hard then maybe Van could imagine the thud as her girlfriend lands on the floor hard.

She swallows instead, fiddling with the rope to hide her anxiety.

“You want to... what?”

They’re interrupted by the fall of timber and Tai throws another set of branches to the side.

”Tie us together” Van replies, trying not to swoon at the sight. “I think it’s pretty symbolic, no?”

Tai grins at this, shaking her head with the same amused, fond smile that made Van fall in love with her in the first place.

”You think it’ll work?”

Van shrugs, helping to gather the wood. “It can’t hurt. And it’s better than seeing you almost fall out the attic”

Tai falters at that, nearly dropping the branches she carried. “Yeah. You’re right”

Van grinned wide at that, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they begin the trek back to the cabin. “That, Tai, is awfully true of you to say”

”You're insane”

”You love it”

....

They don’t tell anyone about the plans. The last thing the group needs right now is anymore chaos, they both agree on that.

The evening passes uneventfully and Van finally nudges Tai as it gets later, gesturing to the attic as discreet as she can manage.

But discreet is definitely not one of her strong suits because Nat catches them and hollers loud. “Have fun ladies”

Van laughs and Tai shakes her head, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh as if you and Travis weren’t boning today. That’s why you took so long!”

Nat is quiet and Van sticks her tongue out in victory as she lets her girlfriend tug her away, climbing the ladder dutifully to the attic, where all the humour starts to fade.

”It’ll work Tai” she presses a kiss to the side of her girlfriends head who is awfully quiet, offering a small smile in reply.

”It better”

She loops the thick rope around her wrist, back around Tai’s then repeats the procedure. “Test it?”

Tai pulls on the bindings, and Van slips, losing her positioning and almost tumbling headfirst into Tai’s lap with a very loud grunt

“Nat is going to think we’re having a different kind of night up here if you carry that on”

Van smirks wider. “Who said we can’t?”

Tai chuckled. “Flirt” she rolls her off carefully though, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Van lays at her side, hands wrapped together, bound by the rope.

”If anything happens wake me up”

”I read in an article awhile back that you’re not meant to do that” Van replies, and even through the darkness she can see Tai’s raised eyebrow.

“What?” She presses with a laugh.

”You read an article?”

They erupt into a quiet laughter, bodies pressed tight together as Tai presses a hand to stifle Van’s snort.

“It had many pictures. It had..” she tries to explain, but Tai’s hand rests still covering her mouth.

“Sssh. Go to sleep now” she kisses the side of her jaw, near the scars. Her mouth so gentle and light that Van almost shudders.

She cranes her neck, moving closer and humming in satisfaction when their mouths connect. Tai indulges her briefly, before pulling apart to rest her head against Van’s shoulder instead.

”Go to sleep” she instructs, hand sifting through red hair. Van chases her lips and Tai rolls her eyes again, her voice full of mirth.

“You’re insatiable”

“Never hear you usually complaining”

”Go to sleep now, Van”

...

Van sleeps that night much better than usual. Like a log, as the saying goes.

When her eyes open, the first thing she notices is Tai, still curled against her front - hand twisted into the front of her hoodie almost possessive.

The second thing she notices is a new kind of pain, an aching burn across her wrists. The rope had chaffed her skin, leaving it an ugly red almost oozing blood.

Its nastier to look at then to feel, and all Van can think is relief that Tai is safely at her side.

So it worked. It was worth it. She could endure a bit of friction burn if it meant that Tai was safe, Van thought as she decided to settle back down and have a bit more sleep.

#misty yellowjackets #Yellowjackets #Yellowjackets fic #yellow jackets prompt #yellowjackets reauest #taivan #vantai #taivan prompt #taivan fic #taivan request #taissa turner #taissa turner x van palmer #van palmer #lottie matthews #taissa request #van request #nat scatorccio

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marz-writes-shit · 3 months

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2 — The Shield

A weekend can be spent doing anything and everything, from complaining about the vendors blocking the driveway to feeding the stray dogs and cats under the shade of rusty awning. For Amory, it was writing a critique for a film their professor made the class watch, while for their little brother Danilo, it was horsing around at the plaza with his friends. As for their parents? They were out for groceries, so Amory had the compound to themself. Before resuming their work, they made sure every possible entrance was shut and locked, of course.

Now, the critique paper their professor wanted was for a corny movie that was released approximately a hundred years ago, during the forsaken era of anthrax and plane crashes. The topic itself was still relevant, but the direction made them cringe and want to just... turn away from the ideals. Still, they persevered, hoping the professor would see just how crappy the delivery was while complying with the rubric.

Their fingers clacked away at the keyboard. Sometimes they'd go back a sentence or two to make sure nothing seemed redundant. They just had to cram every idea they had into the paper, so their fingers practically galloped across the keys. They occasionally paused to check the cadence or drink water, and then they'd resume typing. It was a steady rhythm that helped them many times before.

Once they had written about forty percent of their piece, they ate lunch. Rice and some vegetable stew, washed down with water. Then they went back to working, faster and more diligently, until they had already written three pages' worth of analysis. After they checked the old clock on the wall to find it was one PM, they sat back to take a breather.

Their phone chirped with Messenger notifications. Amory glared at it like it owed them money. It was a message from Yasmine, one of their contacts at the theater club, asking if she could come over, since she needed help revising a script for the theater club. They told her no, sorry, they were too busy trying not to get an aneurysm from how stupid their assignment was. How about an audio call? And she replied with a thumbs up. And as expected, the special ringtone grated against their ears not three seconds later. They swore and hit Answer.

"Hello?"

"What's up, heathen," they drawled, pulling up the laptop again to continue typing.

"I'm stuck," Yasmine whined, "This scene is so dumb! And why do my lines have to sound so... cliché?"

"Theater *is* cliché, face it. There's no drama in nuance." Amory squinted at a very uncompelling sentence and deleted it. "Who're you supposed to play?"

"Liz. She has a crush on this guy and they've been dating for ages. Story goes something along the lines of 'She's beautiful. He's charming. They're perfect for each other, but the world said nuh-uh.' But the opening scene..."

"What about it?"

"A cringe meet-cute. With books and papers flying everywhere and stuff."

They audibly snorted, almost doing a keysmash. "Oh, that sucks. And they didn't let you change it?"

"No," she whimpered. "I'm doomed. What should I do?"

"Hmm." Typing. They were 70% done with the paper. They glanced at the sixth paragraph, wondering whether it would make their professor fume or not. "Don't fulfill expectations. Make them angry at each other after the meet-cute. 'You ruined my favorite dress!' and 'You're not supposed to run in heels!' type-a thing. It'll be funny."

Yasmine laughed. "Oh, brilliant. Thanks, Amory. Seriously."

They rolled their eyes. "'Course. Anything to help the deteriorating drama ensemble of the renowned Pearlcrest International..."

"Hey!"

"Suck it up, Yassy, it's the truth."

"Whatever, nerd." She laughed once more. "Thanks again."

"Sure. Buh-bye."

They ended the call, set their phone aside and resumed working with a newfound vigor, probably from the fact that they just derailed the plans of the horrible, horrible director of the theater club. They typed furiously, and when it finally struck three PM, they were done. They saved the file, sent it to the class Google Drive, then stretched their arms.

Five minutes later they heard the front door opening. They froze and squinted, hand hovering over their bulky mouse in case they had to fend off an intruder, before a kicking of worn sneakers announced Danilo's arrival.

"Heya!"

"Good afternoon, loser," they deadpanned, observing as their little brother performed a weird dance and punched the air in between shuffles. Looks like he had a better time than Amory did. "Mind telling why you're so gleeful in spite of the Hour of Skin Cancer?"

He shrugged. "Not my fault you're drowning in homework. I just talked to the prettiest girl in my grade! We went to the plaza together! Oh, and I took it upon myself to get the fro-yo flavor she wanted. Ya should've seen her smile!" His grin widened.

Amory stared at him. This was news, but whatever. They had more important things on their mind. "Well, congratulations, bachelor. You can now bring home a wife to force your DNA inside until her health fails you. Now wash your shoes."

"Why are you being such a killjoy today?" he groaned.

"Because I watched the most repulsive piece of media on orders of my language professor and I'm spiting him with my output. Can you wash your shoes now?"

"Ugh." He stomped into the kitchen to do it. "You're just jealous because you don't have anyone crushing on you or vice versa," he called over the rush of tap water and scrubbing.

"And I'm perfectly fine with that. My life doesn't revolve around other people's view of my bodily appeal and recreating iconic romance novel scenes, unlike you..." they muttered, reaching for their phone.

"What did you say?"

"I said you suck at flirting!"

There was a startling clang as their mother's favorite pot tumbled and screeched across the floor from the kitchen, narrowly missing Amory's ear. They got up — oh great a neighbor heard and screamed — and picked it up. "Dan," they began as they marched into the source, "do NOT throw a tantrum. You're fourteen. Four years until you can get arrested."

He grunted in response. At least he cleaned his shoes, Amory noted with a small nod, sliding the pot into the cupboard where it came from.

For the rest of the hours until their parents came home, Amory ignored their brother and shut themself in their room. Facebook provided a temporary distraction from the indifferent world beyond the walls of the house;

it was all they really needed nowadays. They swiped through fun and games, candid shots and unpermitted textcaps, and a couple of oily pore selfies (of which their classmates were pretty proud). There was a nagging feeling of inadequacy that Amory refused to pay mind to as they looked at each and every one of the posts. Amory sighed, shaking their head to dispel the intrusive thoughts. They refused to succumb to the comparison trap. Their life might not be picture-perfect, but it was better than risking sunburn and jail.

Closing Facebook, they turned their attention to something else. Novels! Fiction! A well-worn book from their shelf would serve them well, one they probably memorized by heart already. The familiarity was comfort, transporting them to worlds far away from the woes of reality.

The main character was about to die when Amory heard the door squeak open.

#𝓸𝓱 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 — 🖋️#🖋️ — 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓲𝔁𝓽 #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #small writer #original fiction #ahh the day in the life of an average teenager in 2164 ph

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Being Afraid Doesn't Mean You're Weak (Part 1)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: Rick has known about your fear of flying for a while. So when your plane heads directly into a storm on the way to a mission, he tries his best to make you as comfortable as possible.

Word Count: 2014

TW: Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Panic Attack, Past Trauma

Part 1, Part 2

Series Masterlist

You hated flying. It was the one thing that really scared you. Not guns, not snakes, not bugs, not public speaking, not even death. But flying….. On your first tour overseas, you had been in a terrible helicopter crash that left you broken and burned and the only survivor. From that moment on, flying was a torturous event for you.

Rick had learned all of this the hard way soon after you joined ARGUS. On the first few missions after you joined the team, he had noticed your odd behavior on the cargo planes to and from your locations. That you always found a spot as far away from any window as possible. That you kept your eyes squeezed shut the entire flight, lips occasionally moving in silent conversation, while your knuckles turned white as you firmly grasped objects around you. That you always fell asleep on the return trips, sometimes needing him to shake you awake or even half drag you from the plane when you got back to Belle Reve.

But he didn’t find out the truth until Waller sent both of you to DC to debrief some senators on your latest mission. As the two of you boarded the commercial flight, you seemed just as anxious as usual, if not more so. However, Rick just figured you were nervous about presenting in front of a room of government big shots. So, he settled down in his seat and drifted off to sleep.

But halfway through the flight, everything had gone wrong. Rick was startled awake by the sounds of your muffled screams as you tried desperately to stifle your terror. You were doubled over in your seat, hands pressed firmly against your mouth as tears streamed down your face. As he frantically reached out, asking what was wrong, the plane hit another patch of turbulence that had you ripping off your seat belt and fleeing to the small bathroom in the back of the plane. Ignoring the flight attendant who was trying to figure out what was going on, Rick quickly followed you. When you refused to open the door, he kicked it open only to find you huddled on the floor sobbing into your hands as your whole body trembled. He asked for no explanation, he just scooped you into his arms and held you tight as he whispered words of comfort into your hair for the remainder of the flight.

When you reached your hotel in DC, you had explained everything to him: the helicopter crash, your flashbacks, how Waller knew but didn’t care, that you were allowed to take medication to knock you out on return flights but not on the way to missions, that the smaller the aircraft or the closer you were to the windows the worse it was. You had waited for Rick to tease you, or to say he thought you were weak, or to tell you he didn’t want you on his team anymore. But instead, he had just nodded and given you a reassuring smile.

Since that day, Rick had done everything in his power to make the flights as comfortable as possible for you. To start with, everyone on Task Force X was under strict instructions: you do not bother the sergeant while in the air. All questions as to why were immediately shut down. Then, he would try to get to the airfield a few minutes early to create an impromptu barrier around your seat in the back of the plane that gave you some privacy from the rest of the team. He even started carrying a few of your sleeping pills for the flight home after one time your supply had gotten ruined on a mission.

Rick told himself he was doing this to help a fellow soldier, his right hand, his partner. But as time went on, he knew that you had become so much more than that. And every time he caught a glimpse of you, jaw clenched, knuckles white, and eyes squeezed tight, it felt like a knife to his heart. Because he knew that as much as he tried to lessen your pain, there was nothing he could do to take it away completely.

Today’s mission was already a disaster, and the Squad hadn’t even made it to their location yet. Half the team was comprised of new recruits with no idea what they were really in for. Once on the plane, they wouldn’t stop bickering or yelling at each other. Plus, something about the mission felt off to Rick. And now…..

With a sigh, he left the bickering Squad members and headed back to your private hideaway. He knocked gently on the crates surrounding your seat and squeezed past them to see you better. You glanced up quickly before shutting your eyes again. Rick cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you…”

“You could never bother me, Colonel. What’s up?” You were trying to keep your tone light, but Rick could see the firm set of your jaw and the tightness in your shoulders.

“I’m sorry darlin’, but the pilot just informed me we’re headed straight through an incoming storm. No way to avoid it.”

Your fingernails dug deeper into the material of your tact pants as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know. I, um, I’ll try my best to……you know.”

Rick nodded back, he knew how bad normal flights were for you and how a single bump of turbulence could send you into a full-fledged panic attack. He couldn’t even imagine the hell you were about to go through. He started to head back up with the rest of the squad, but he couldn’t help asking, “Would you like me to stay with you? Just so you’re not alone.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it seemed to help a little the first time. I just want to help you through this.”

“Rick….” You stared down at your hands. He knew you only called him by his first name when things were really serious. “I don’t want you to see me like that again. It’s bad enough that you know….I don’t need you to be reminded how weak I am.”

He knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, I know what it’s like going through this. Just because mine happens at night in my dreams instead of up here in the sky, doesn’t mean I don’t deal with these same kinds of memories, these same fears. We’ve both been through some real shit in our lives. The kinds of things people aren’t supposed to go through. That doesn’t make you weak. Being afraid doesn't mean you're weak. But the fact you climb back on this plane mission after mission even after what happened makes you the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

You bit your lip as it began to quiver, and Rick could see you were fighting to hold back tears. “Thank you, Rick. If…if you don’t mind, I would like you to stay.”

He nodded and settled into the seat next to you, both of you silently waiting for what came next.

The storm came out of nowhere. One second, it was smooth sailing, and the next, the entire aircraft was shuddering. As the plane hit a particularly rough bump, your hands flew to the armrests, putting them both in viselike grips. But you were too scared to notice that your right hand hadn’t actually grabbed the armrest. Instead, it had wrapped tightly around Rick’s hand. You squeezed it so hard, Rick could feel the bones in his hand shift painfully. But he didn’t make a sound.

Once the plane settled, you relaxed slightly, loosening your grip. When you realized you had been grasping his hand instead of the armrest, heat rushed to your cheeks. You tried mumbling an apology and pulling it away, but Rick held on tightly. He linked your fingers with his and gave you a reassuring squeeze. You actually gave him a small smile in return, before the aircraft was once again shaken by the storm outside.

Your free hand flew to cover your mouth as you released a muffled scream of terror. Without a second thought, Rick lifted you over the armrest and into his lap, his one hand never leaving yours. You buried your face in his chest as your free hand clutched wildly at his tactsuit. Your breathing was wild and panicked, just on the cusp of hysteria. He gently rubbed your back, whispering, “It’s alright darlin’. I’ve got you. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”

You nodded into his chest. And soon, your muffled cries grew quieter, your trembling lessened, and your grip on him slackened. You were still curled tightly against him, but Rick could see your terror slowly melting away even as the plane still shuddered and rocked. He felt your breathing synchronizing with his, and soon the two of you were breathing as one.

About ten minutes later, the storm seemed to have passed as the plane resumed its normal flight pattern. Rick stared down at you still resting on his chest, seemingly asleep. You appeared more relaxed than he had ever seen you on a plane, even when you were passed out from your pills. You looked so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself from softly stroking your hair.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

The unexpected sound of your voice startled Rick, causing him to flinch slightly, but he said, “Of course, darlin’. Anything.”

“What are you scared of Colonel?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

He thought for a long moment, then quietly muttered, “I’m scared of you….of this.” He lifted his hand that was still tangled with yours. “I’m scared of how you make me feel when I’m around you and how I feel when I’m not. I’m scared I’ll lose you before I ever have you. I’m scared of us taking a chance because of Waller and I’m scared of us continuing to deny what’s here. So, yeah…You terrify me.”

You smiled brightly as you snuggled deeper into his chest. “Huh. Well, I’m not scared of any of that.”

“Oh really? And why’s that?”

“Because I’ve loved you since the moment you found me on the floor of that airplane bathroom and just held me with no judgment or explanation. Because you are the one person I trust completely, mind, body, and heart. Because you are the only person who has ever made what I just went through the least little bit better. Because you’re Colonel Rick Flag and when you care about something, you do everything in your power to protect it. So, yeah….I could never be scared of you.”

Rick chuckled, “Like I said, strongest person I ever met. Bravest too.”

“Well, maybe I can teach you to be a little braver.” You cupped his face in your hand and drew him into your lips.

Rick had thought about this moment for months, practically since the moment he had laid eyes on you. And once again, he silently praised you for your bravery, for making the move he had been too afraid of making. And it was everything he had dreamed of and more.

But moments later, the sound of Rick’s alarm beeping broke the two of you apart. Groaning loudly, Rick glanced at his tablet and cursed under his breath. Shifting you off his lap, he stood up with a sigh, “I wish we had more time darlin’, but we have to get movin’.” You nodded sadly, but he knew you understood. “Are you sure you’re good to go?”

“Of course. You know I have no problem jumping out. Anything to get off this thing faster.” You laughed as Rick helped you to your feet.

Rick smiled at you as he grabbed his tablet and left your makeshift hideaway. He quickly read through the list of the current Task Force members. “Harkness, Javelin, Quinn, Mongal, TDK, Hertz, Weasel, Savant. Line up and get ready to jump. We’re here.”

#sfw repost #fic #being afraid doesn't mean you're weak #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #colonel rick flag #joel kinnaman #dc #dc x reader #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #hurt and comfort #ptsd tw #panic attack tw #past trauma tw

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graceful-starker · 1 year

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My Favorite Uncle

Prompt: Uncle Tony/Nephew Peter, secret relationship, in love and happy.

Summary: Despite Aunt May’s borderline meddling obsession with Peter and his well being, his Uncle Tony has always managed to fly just under her radar.

Warnings: incest, past underage, past dub-con.

Notes: Happy Holidays, @starkly !!!! ( @starkerfestivals ) There may be be some smut in the future if you want it, but here is the actual gift, I hope you like you!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter sighs softly, putting his pencil down and rubbing his eyes. He’s been studying for this calculus final for three hours, and he’s honestly considering giving up and winging it. Finals week sucks.

“Peter?” May asks, sounding tired. “I’m home.”

Peter lights up at that, running from his room into the living room. “May!” he greets happily, hugging her around the waist. “How was work?”

“Busy,” she sighs softly, hugging her nephew back. “What’s for dinner?”

“I made us spaghetti, your plate is in the oven to keep warm,” Peter says, pulling away. “I have chicken in the freezer too, I can make something with that for tomorrow.”

“Actually,” May says, putting her purse and keys up and walking towards the oven. “Your uncle is coming to visit. We should probably pull out the big stops.”

Peter lights up, eyes wide. He tries to play it cool, like he isn’t hoping for one answer or another. “Which one, Uncle Mike or Uncle Tony?” Uncle Mike is May’s brother, and he comes around more often. But Uncle Tony…Uncle Tony has always been, and always will be, his favorite uncle.

“Your Uncle Tony,” May clarifies, grabbing a fork and grinning knowingly at Peter. “I know he’s your favorite, kiddo, don’t try and hide it. He always brings the good presents.”

Peter’s family tree has always been confusing to other children. When he was a child, his parents died in a plane crash. His father’s brother, Uncle Ben, and his wife May, took Peter in and raised him. Peter has three uncles, though; his Uncle Ben, who has also since passed, his Uncle Mike, who is May’s brother, and his Uncle Tony, who is his mom’s brother. Uncle Mike isn’t technically his uncle, but because he was raised by Aunt May, he’s always viewed him as such.

Uncle Tony is the strangest one to explain. Uncle Tony ran away when he was 16 years old, after getting into MIT. He never looked back, leaving his little sister Mary behind. Feeling betrayed by his abandonment and leaving her in their abusive parents’ control, she never spoke to him again. It wasn’t until she and her husband died that he knew he had to do something. He tracked down May and Ben, explaining who he was, and asking if he could be allowed to see Peter occasionally.

Considering Tony was a self-made billionaire, a genius, and they didn’t know the full backstory of Mary and Tony’s childhood, they thought he would be an excellent influence on Peter, and agreed. He wouldn’t show up too often, usually only once a month; but he always brought extravagant gifts for Peter, took him out on the town for a day, and offered May and Ben anything they wanted or needed. Ben, being far too proud to accept help, never allowed Tony to do anything for the adults, but he always made sure Tony knew the offer was appreciated.

The visits never stopped, of course, and neither did the gifts. So even though his Uncle Ben was technically his favorite uncle for raising him, Uncle Tony was his favorite uncle-uncle.

That was, until Peter turned 15. Uncle Ben had died, and Peter had run away to his Uncle Tony’s house. Instead of immediately returning the boy, he simply called May and let the poor woman know that Peter showed up on his door, and offered to keep the boy for a while so she could grieve in peace, without having to help Peter grieve as well. She took up the offer, and Peter spent the next week getting spoiled, having fun, and being completely distracted from his grief.

He still misses Ben, it’s always there in the back of his head. But his Uncle Tony helped him realize that life can go on, just like how life went on after his parents’ deaths.

From that point on, Peter was allowed to come visit as often as he wanted to. He went over on random Wednesdays, asking for help with his chem homework. He went over on some weekends, begging for his uncle to take him out and have fun. And that summer, he spent most of his days with his uncle, helping in the lab, working on cars, and doing whatever they wanted when the genius billionaire could escape his work duties.

When Peter turned 16, things changed. Peter went through a big growth spurt, growing into his body. Instead of being an awkward, lanky teen with too-long limbs and baby fat still on his cheeks, he grew into himself. His shoulders got broader, his muscles came in, his jawline became defined. He still feels like he looks a bit awkward, but no one can deny it–Peter Parker grew into a handsome young man.

Tony, of course, noticed. And he had tried to do the right thing at first; less touches to Peter, less guiding him, less being in his personal space. But the kid had gotten so used to the physical affection he so desperately craved after the tragedies in his life, that he chased them. He hugged Tony whenever he could, touched his arms and hands, cuddled up into his side whenever possible. Until finally, the summer before Peter turned 17, Tony snapped.

“You gotta stop doing that, kid,” Tony had said, scooting further down the couch to get away from Peter. They had been watching Star Wars together for the umpteenth time, and Peter was, of course, trying to cuddle into the older man.

Peter had pouted. “Why?” he had asked. “I like to cuddle.”

“Because you’re too old now,” Tony had answered,looking like he was a little nervous.

“What? Why am I too old to cuddle?” Peter had crossed his arms, and his stubbornness had always been one of Tony’s favorite things about the boy. He always told Peter stubbornness is how you get what you want.

“Because…because it’s something couples do, once you get old enough. People might get the wrong idea.” Tony nervously had started to twiddle his thumbs.

“The wrong idea?” Peter had asked, eyebrows raised. “What, that I love my Uncle and want him to touch me?” He had said it as if it was the most innocent thing in the world. And from Peter’s point of view, it was. He had had no idea what his favorite uncle had thought of when he said those words.

Tony, however, choked a bit. “Yes, exactly. But in ways that…that family don’t do. You know what I mean, kid?” He had side-eyed his nephew, hoping he wouldn’t have to be any more explicit than that.

Peter had still been pouting, but now turned his whole body towards the older man with his head cocked to the side. “No, Uncle Tony, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like…” Tony had sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Like sexually. People might think we are doing sexually inappropriate stuff.” Tony had looked away at that, wincing at the awkwardness.

Peter had been so shocked, that he simply stopped breathing. But then he had thought about it, and thought about it and thought about it…he thought about it for so long, in fact, that Tony had started to clear his throat and say something.

But Peter didn’t need him to say anything else. And he didn’t want Tony to change the subject. Because just the mere thought of his Uncle Tony doing sexually inappropriate things to Peter made the young boy’s cock twitch to life. So instead of letting Tony change the subject and try to go back to normal, what Peter did was climb into Tony’s lap and plop his little plump ass right on top of Tony’s dick.

Tony had only choked at first, hands instinctively flying to Peter’s hips. “Kid, you can’t-”

“Do you love me, Uncle Tony?” Peter had asked softly, eyes half-lidded. Being stubborn is only one way to get what you want.

Unbeknownst to Peter, Tony had, at that point, started to suspect his nephew wasn’t quite as innocent as he had always believed. “More than anything,” Tony had answered honestly.

“Well,” Peter had started, a devious smirk on those tempting lips. “I stay here all summer, don’t I? In this big, lonely penthouse that no one else has access to…”

Tony had swallowed thickly. “You do have that internship,” he had agreed.

Peter had leaned in until their lips were merely an inch apart, and Tony couldn’t even look the boy in the eyes anymore. “That’s a lot of alone time to show me how much you love me, isn’t it?”

And the rest had been history. They spent that entire summer together, in one form or another. Going out together, spending time in the lab, working together during intern hours…and unlike the year before, a significant amount of time in bed together.

Their love story is unconventional, surely; but Peter is in love nonetheless.

So, considering that he just found out his favorite uncle is coming over tomorrow does make the boy light up, make him happier than if Uncle Mike was visiting.

All he has is finals week, and then he gets to spend the entire summer with his favorite uncle. He thought Tony would have made him wait; so this is a very happy surprise. “Okay, you got me,” Peter giggles, and a faint pink colors his cheeks. “I didn’t think he was going to make it this month, since I start my internship next week anyway.”

May grins softly; seeing her pride and joy happy after so much despair in his life always makes her softer. “I know.” She eats another bite, sighing happily at the taste. “He’s flying in first thing in the morning, so he’ll probably be here around 10:00. I thought we could go shopping early, buy some steaks, and get them marinating for supper. What do you think?”

Peter beams at her. “Sounds great, May. I can’t wait!”

Peter sighs happily as he puts the marinating steaks in the refrigerator, closing the door and turning happily to May. “When is he supposed to get here?”

“Any minute,” May answers. “He’s technically already late, as he told me to expect him around 10:00…” May sighs and pours herself another cup of coffee.

“He’s never late,” Peter says cheekily. “He always shows up exactly when he planned to show up.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” comes from behind the aunt and nephew.

Peter gasps and turns around, eyes wide with surprise and a grin splitting his face open. “Uncle Tony!” he yells, excitement obvious in his voice.

Tony laughs and opens his arms, a fond smile on his face. “Hey, kid.”

Peter flies into those arms, laughing softly and letting the older man hold him. “I missed you!” Peter complains.

Tony grins over Peter’s shoulder at May. “Heya May, how’s it going?”

May smiles and turns around, starting the walk to the living room. “It’s been good, busy as ever. I actually had something I wanted to show you, hold on. I’ll find it.”

Peter starts to pull away, but Tony grins and leans down, connecting their lips softly. “Hey, Pete,” he whispers.

Peter beams up at him, looking over his shoulder. He sees May still rummaging through her papers, so leans back up on his tiptoes and kisses Tony again. “Hi Tony,” he whispers into Tony’s lips.

Tony chuckles softly, hugging Peter as close to himself as possible for a short moment. Then he releases the boy, and leads him with a hand on his lower back into the living room. “What did you want to show me?”

May sighs in frustration, shuffling a bit before exclaiming in success. “Here! Look, look what our nephew did,” she beams and hands the letter to Tony.

Tony grabs it and gasps in excitement. “MIT?!” he exclaims.

Peter blushes and nods, jumping on the balls of his feet. “I got accepted! Probably thanks to you and your recommendation, but-”

“Hey,” Tony says, frowning. “Don’t discount yourself! Your good grades and extracurriculars did that, kiddo.”

May nods in agreement. “All the recommendations in the world couldn’t help you if you didn’t put in the work, Peter.”

Peter slowly smiles, a soft blush on his cheeks. “Thank you. But this means I can move closer to you, maybe stay with you on the weekends!”

May sighs softly. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” She walks over and kisses the top of his hair.

Peter beams softly. “Okay, okay. Thanks May.”

Tony grins. “Well come on, let’s go celebrate!” he hands the letter back to May, staring at it with pride one more time.

Peter jumps in excitement again. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

May shakes her head fondly and hugs Peter with one arm. “Have fun!”

Peter giggles softly, shaking his head at his uncle’s ‘disguise.’ “You can’t seriously think a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses are going to make people not recognize you, do you?”

Tony grins, taking Peter’s hand and starting to walk into the general public. “Of course, it works all the time.”

Peter blushes, putting his own dark sunglasses on and giggling. The excitement of doing something wrong, and being so easily caught, is making his stomach turn flips.

“So,” Tony starts, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s hand. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Can we go to the boardwalk? We can walk around, ride some rides, eat terrible food…”

Tony laughs softly, shaking his head in fondness. “Absolutely, kid.”

Peter spends the entire rest of the day with Tony in pure bliss. They walk around and see the different stores, see some interesting people. They eat way too much junk food, and Peter gets high on sugar. That’s when he pulled Tony behind a building and kissed him like he would die if he didn’t.

Now they’re sitting at the top of the ferris wheel, taking in the view of the city at night. “Did you have fun today, kid?” Tony asks, arm hanging over Peter’s shoulders.

Peter blushes and beams up at him. “I did,” he says softly. “I don’t want to go home…”

Tony laughs softly and leans down to connect their lips, a finger keeping Peter’s chin up. “I love you, baby,” he whispers. “You graduate in a couple of weeks, and then you get to move into my tower and stay as long as you want while you’re at MIT.”

Peter melts into the kiss, eyes half lidded as he listens to his uncle talk. He smiles brightly at the reminder. “We’ll get to see each other more,” he says happily.

Tony nods, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s chin. “And we won’t have to hide as much. Most people in the tower won’t know you’re my nephew. Only Pep and Rhodey.”

Peter squirms a bit, bouncing in his seat. “I can’t wait for that. I want you to be able to show me off and kiss me around other people.”

Tony smiles, just as smitten as the younger man. “You’ll be able to kiss me any time you want.”

Peter smiles again, before leaning up and kissing Tony softly. “That will be a lot of times, Uncle Tony,” he threatens.

Tony hums softly, nosing behind Peter’s ear as the ride starts to go again. “I’m counting on it.”

Tony hums softly, putting the gift bags down in the living room. “That smells amazing, May!”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand one more time before walking into the kitchen. “Do you need help with anything?” he asks, walking over and kissing her cheek.

May shakes her head. “Nope, I’m just plating. Go sit down or serve your uncle some wine.”

Peter smiles and grabs the bottle, pouring a serving into Tony and May’s glasses. He sits next to Tony, grabbing his uncle’s hand under the table.

Tony grins slyly, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. He grabs his wine and takes a sip. “Thank you for cooking May, you really didn’t have to do this. Me and Pete could have brought something back.”

“I know,” May says proudly, bringing everyone’s plates over. “But I like to cook.”

Tony licks his lips at the meal, squeezing Peter’s hand before reaching up to grab the silverware. “It smells great,” Tony says. He takes a bite, and moans at the taste. He feels Peter shift beside him, and fights a laugh. “Oh, and it tastes delicious!”

May beams in pride, taking a bite herself. “Thank you!”

Peter nods, cutting up his steak into little pieces. He takes one bite, using his left hand to use the fork so he can rest his other hand on Tony’s thigh. “It’s so good!”

Tony smiles into his wine glass, thigh feeling so warm where Peter’s hand rests.

“Hey, May?” Peter asks after a few minutes of quiet eating. “Would you mind getting me a Dr. Pepper from the fridge? I put one in the back I think.”

May rolls her eyes, but puts her things down to get up. “Lazy,” she accuses without any real heat to her voice.

Peter knows damn well there isn’t any soda in the fridge. But he waits for May to be leaned in the fridge with the door blocking her view of the table. He grins evilly at Tony, and leans up to connect their lips softly.

Tony gasps softly, but allows it. The fear of getting caught always makes Tony’s blood boil, his cock stir. He deepens the kiss just slightly, leaning into it so he can be closer.

“I don’t see one,” May complains.

Peter pulls away slowly, licking his lips and staring at Tony with hungry eyes. “Is it not next to the pickle jar?” he asks, moving his hand up to rest on top of Tony’s crotch.

Tony’s breath hitches, and he blinks slowly. He goes back to drinking his wine, before pouring himself another glass. He’s definitely being rude in the amount of wine consumption he’s doing; he owes May a new bottle.

“No,” May says, giving up and looking over at him. She can kind of tell something is off, but would never guess in a million years what the truth was. “Did you drink it and forget?”

Peter pretends to sigh sadly, squeezing his right hand gently. “I guess I must have, that sucks!”

May shakes her head fondly, sitting back at the table. “You always do that, you always forget you have the last of something.”

Peter pouts as he swallows another bite of steak. “I’m sorry,” he says.

May tsks and rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, I find it funny.”

Tony almost chokes as Peter rubs over Tony’s hardening cock, but hits his chest as a disguise and drinks some more wine. “I’ll have to remember to keep the fridge over stocked this summer, I guess,” he tries to tease.

Peter stabs another bite of steak with his fork aggressively, pretending to pour. “You’re ganging up on me!” He uses the momentary distraction of May’s laughter to squeeze again, rubbing his hand along the shape of Tony’s cock as best as he can in Tony’s trousers.

May laughs again, taking a sip of her own wine. “Only teasing, honey,” she says softly.

Tony pretends to shift in his chair so that he can buck up into Peter’s touch, which only encourages the boy to rub his heel harder into Tony’s crotch. “Only teasing,” Tony accuses Peter.

Peter shoves another bite in his mouth to stop from laughing, but he thankfully lets Tony breathe in peace. He moves his hand back down Tony’s thigh, allowing the older man to relax.

The rest of dinner was, thankfully, uneventful. They even made it through a movie on the couch in the dark with May near them without any issues.

“Alright,” Tony says once the credits start to roll, standing up and stretching. “I better get going, kid.”

“No!” Peter whines, standing up as well.

“You’ll see him next week at your graduation, honey,” May says sleepily.

Peter pouts again, looking between her and his uncle. “At least let me walk you down to your car?”

Tony laughs, pretending to be amused. “Okay, okay. Come on. Good night, May, thank you again.”

“Mm,” May says, eyes closed and head resting on her wrist.

Tony grins and leads Peter out, closing the door softly. He takes Peter’s hand, starting to lead him outside. “I had a great time today, baby,” he whispers.

Peter grins, looking around before pulling Tony into the shadows of a stairwell. He kisses Tony roughly, pulling him down by the neck to keep their bodies as close together as possible.

Tony pulls away after a moment, gasping into the air. “You’re gonna kill me,” Tony groans, reaching around and groping Peter’s ass.

Peter giggles softly, pushing his ass back out into the touches. “I’ll make it up to you, Uncle Tony. As soon as we have a night alone together, I’ll blow your mind.”

Tony feels his cock twitch again, and curses under his breath. “Tease,” Tony sighs. He kisses Peter once more, before sighing and letting the younger man go. “Alright, back to your aunt. Before she worries.”

Peter nods, stealing one more kiss before smiling sadly. “I love you, Tony. See you at graduation.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #sfholidayexchange22 #My writing #fanfic #tw: incest #tw: dubcon #tw: under age

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