#she does bring up actual health stuff but it just feels like an excuse
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ASKING FOR IT !
ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO
note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3
Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.
They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.
He goes:
Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?
And she goes:
Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!
And then she doesn’t cum.
So there’s that, but he’s working on it.
Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.
He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.
As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.
Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.
When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.
When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.
(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)
What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.
Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.
“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.
Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.
His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.
Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.
It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.
You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?
When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.
When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.
“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.
She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.
“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.
“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.
Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.
“What’s wrong, Leon?”
He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.
“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.
Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.
So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”
“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.
“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”
She’s teasing him now.
“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”
“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.
Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.
He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.
Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.
Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.
Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.
“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”
Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.
You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.
“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.
“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.
“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”
You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.
You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.
“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.
The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”
Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”
“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.
Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.
“I’m sorry?”
Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”
“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“
You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.
“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.
“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”
Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”
“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“
Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”
“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.
“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.
And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.
She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.
“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.
“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.
“I still missed you.”
“Even when you’re sleeping?”
In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?
“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.
“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”
“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.
“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.
“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.
Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”
“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.
“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?
“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.
“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.
Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.
At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.
In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.
“You don’t like that, honey?”
He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.
“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”
“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.
“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.
She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.
Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.
He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.
“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”
Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.
“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.
You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.
“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.
“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.
“Not for me, right.”
“Anyone but you.”
“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.
“Why?”
“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”
“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.
Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”
“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.
Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.
“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.
“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.
“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.
“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.
It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.
“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.
“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”
“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.
“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.
“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”
“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”
And your silence proves him right.
That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.
“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.
Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”
“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”
Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.
“What is that, sign language?”
“No, I want to finger you.”
“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.
“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”
Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”
“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”
Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”
“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.
“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.
“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?
“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.
“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.
“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.
“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.
She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”
“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.
“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”
“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.
“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.
“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.
The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.
At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.
The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.
Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.
“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.
You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.
“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“
“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”
“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.
Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.
He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?
A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.
“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.
Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.
Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.
“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.
“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.
“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.
Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.
“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”
He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy angst#leon s kennedy smut#resident evil x you#resident evil angst#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
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Glitch, I have a few things to say.. I am COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING! *most especially, DILF Izu!
And major question, Is Inko still alive in the Cheating DILF Izuku universe? If so, Would she be able to figure out what the Number 1 couples' situation is?? Maybe she would start noticing the signs? Am seriously such a sucker for how you write angst! Hope you're in good health always ♡
Cheating Dilf Izuku Pt2.5
[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]
Inko is still alive!!
It's just that after the funeral and everything, Izuku and reader were rather hesitant to accept her help because they didn't want to not be able to do it on their own (they couldn't). And Inko does see it and notices it.
Inko and her son are very close but so is Reader and Inko too. She notices that the couple stops talking about one another, she notices that the boys seem rather on edge and she notices that you both look drained. She notices and she really does want to to do something.
"Okaasan, I have no idea what you're talking about." Izuku stated as he held his phone to his ear as he organised the laundry as he sat on the floor in the laundry room.
"Izuku, I'm smarter than you give me credit for. I know something's wrong." She said gently but still stern. "All I'm saying is, you can bring the boys to me and I can take care of them for a week. You and Y/N can go and spend some time together. Like you used to."
Izuku paused as he held a pair of mismatched socks. His mother wasn't entirely wrong. You and him did use to go on little mini vacations together. Usually not spanning more than a weekend every six or so months where you would just spend time as a couple. It was something you both always looked forward to, despite loving your boys to bits.
Often than not there was a resort in Okinawa that the both of you loved to go to, just the two of you. But it had bene just more than a year since you last went, especially since you were both supposed to go five months ago but Lord knows that didn't happen.
Izuku sighed as he set down the socks he had in his hands. "I don't know. Okaasan." He let out with a sigh. "Y/N and I... we just... I don't think she'd want to go."
"Stuff and nonsense, Izu. Why wouldn't she? I know how much she knows you adore her."
That was painful. Izuku bit back a grimace as he sighed. He leaned back, surrounded by laundry baskets that were labeled for each boy. He looked over to one that stayed filed up at the top away from sight. A label on it that read a single name. Shoyo.
"Okaasan..." He whispered as he looked up at the basket. "I really messed up." He said quietly. "I... I don't think things will ever be the same."
Inko was silent for a moment before a small sigh left her mouth. "Izuku, I won't lie to you and say that you're wrong. You're right. It won't ever be the same. Losing a child is an unbearable sort of pain that hurts more than anything imaginable." Izuku closed his eyes not wanting to think about it. "And I wish I could say that it doesn't change things. It does. However, we can only pick up the pieces and try to make life a little bit better. Talk about this to her and see what she says. I think it would be good for the both of you if you got away for a while."
Izuku was silent for a moment as he thought about it. He let out a sigh as he leaned back for a moment. There was no harm in asking and the worst you could say was no...
Actually he was wrong. The worst you could say would probably make him feel like a damn fool and no would be the best thing you could say.
But if he wanted to win his wife back... He'd have to try everything he had until his last breath.
He sighed. "Fine. Fine, I'll talk to her."
He heard some giggles on the otherside of the line before a happy laugh. "Izu you won't regret it! I can't wait to see my grandbabies again!"
Izuku raised an eyebrow as he put the socks in the washing machine like he was doing previously. "Is this you trying to help my marriage or you having an excuse to see the boys?"
"... both." He could hear her smile and it made him laugh.
After finishing with the laundry, Izuku mustered up the courage to walk into your bedroom. You were laying in bed with your laptop in front of you while Koda took a nap beside you. The little four year old held onto your arm in his sleep as you typed away on your laptop. A bunny sitting at the foot of your bed.
Izuku closed the door behind him as he kept himself a good distance away from you, not wanting to overstep. "Y/N."
"Hm?" You didn't look up at him as you kept busy at whatever you were doing. Before, you used to always pause and listen to whatever he had to say. But then again, that was when he deserved it.
"How about we go to Okinawa?"
The question made you freeze. Your eyes flicked up from your laptop before you slowly turned to look up at him. Your eyes slowly went into a glare. "To do what?" You asked, not hostility in your voice but apprehension.
"You know, just..." He shrugged. "We could spend some time there, you and me. We haven't gone in a while and I think it would be nice." You stayed silent as you just watched him. He felt nervous at your eyes on him like that. He took a step forward. "Just after our holiday with the boys and everyone, we could... if you want."
You stared at him for another minute. You then let out a scoff and turned back to continue whatever it was you were doing on your laptop. You continued to type as you kept your eyes on the screen in front of you.
Izuku let out a quiet sigh, not exactly surprised. His shoulders dropped as he turned to head to the shower.
"I'll think about it."
The sound of your voice made him freeze in place. He turned back to look at you but you continued to type away, ignoring him otherwise.
That was enough to make him smile, knowing that you gave him just a lick of hope was enough to make him happy with your answer.
-Glitch1d
#midoriya x reader angst#izuku midoriya x reader#mha x y/n#bnha#deku x reader#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf midoriya#dilf deku#dilf mha#izuku midoria x reader#midoriya izuku#bnha midoriya#midoriya izuku angst#izuku midoriya
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When you’ve had a limp since early childhood and you lived in the slums of the lowest part of the undercity and have been poor all your life and your condition only got worse as you grew older and even though you finally got accepted as the professor’s assistant in piltover the professor in question is a dog elf thing and now this young scientist your age just blew up his room and you have to arrest him then you find out hey he has cool ideas and prevent him from jumping off a ledge and partner with him but as the years go by your health worsens and he just keeps taking the spotlight and its fine you dont like the spotlight you’ve always preferred being lonely no you don’t and you eventually go from a cane to a crutch and you begin getting weaker while he gets stronger its fine youre still partners working together it’s cool then you start coughing up blood and don’t know how to explain it to him or the professor and then the dog elf professor says maybe it should take 10 years for hextech to be fully stabilized but you know full fucking well you can’t live that long and as you wait for your bestie to make his awesome speech about how smart and cool he is (because he is!) you start coughing up blood and eventually you do it right in front of him and you just excuse yourself and go back to your lab to do work on the cool hexcore because you just had a sickness induced vision of it changing color based on your blood but then you begin coughing up blood again and eventually wake up in a hospital bed and your bestie is there trying not to burst into tears as he explains your condition is terminal even though you’ve always kinda known because of the horrible pollution you had to live with in the undercity and while you’re ruminating in your steel oasis the fucking dog elf pops up again and says sorry but then says some stuff about the brightest burning away the fastest as if his weird species doesn’t live like a thousand years and as you experiment further with the hexcore you start to lose yourself and eventually you go back to an “old friend” in the undercity who’s been making illegal drugs and you agree to take the drugs if you think it will cure you but you have to take them in private oh and your bestie just said something classist while you were trying to return back to piltover and he didn’t even apologize not even when a motolov cocktail was thrown at your feet and later your bestie brings his girlfriend over and they start talking about making hextech weapons while you’re trying to defuse a fucking bomb and you nearly set it off in front of them because the concept of you and your bestie’s inventions being used to kill people pisses you off but you don’t do it and then you start injecting the illegal drug in your leg (which by the way is carved with runes you just cut into yourself great job) and it hurts so bad but it fucking works and your leg is now weird and purple but it works yet you want a little more so you make a big cut on your hand and show it to the hexcore which absorbs it and fucks you up but you’re ok and your leg and hand are now a weird purple mess but guess what you can finally run after so long you can finally outrun those boats and it feels so good and you just scream but of course that isn’t enough for you you have to cure your illness somehow so you get even more desperate and eventually you just run out of the illegal drug and don’t want to go back to get more and get in trouble so what do you do you carve runes all over your goddamn body and let the hexcore accept your sacrifice and so it does start sucking out all your blood then your assistant you’ve known since you were a child catches you in the act and tries to save you from being destroyed by the hexcore’s power but in the process she actually gets disintegrated right in front of you as she yells your name and all that’s left of her is ash and you find her diary where she wrote about how much you inspired her and everything and you have a complete mental breakdown over it and want to destroy the hexcore but you just cant meanwhile your health gets worse and you seriously consider jumping off a ledge but your bestie stops you
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Im pretty sure anyone would take Enji over Gabriel. Enji’s actually written well, with a good character arc.
YEAH NO I
I went off on this a while ago but I'm bringing it back:
The arc with Enji is what they /wanted/ Gabriel to be. A man who is a Hero and cares about people and definitely cares about his family, but did awful and unforgivable things he can't fix due to his own sympathetic goals.
And it works because we genuinely /see this on screen/. While we see the bad stuff, we also see the good.
All of Enji's screentime that doesn't directly involve his homelife is him doing his literal job as a Hero. He held the title of #2 Hero for 25+ years, which is a fantastic thing to do! He's out there helping people and saving lives and risking himself for the sake of others and he's damn good at what he does!
And even when we focus on the stuff at home, we get that too. Yes there's the entire history on how this family started and of course the abuse, but we see him caring about them as well. When Rei's mental health drops, he gets her the actual professional help she needs. While he pushes Shoto too far, he's also proud of his accomplishments and tries to connect with him(it usually ends in failure). Fuyumi asks for family dinners together, and he makes sure to show up instead of giving the 'I'm too busy' excuse even though every dinner ends in a fight. Speaking of fights, he lets Natsuo yell at him during these fights and in turn is terrified at the idea of losing him. He tried to stop Toya from doing something that causes him major harm and could even kill him, and is devastated by his 'death' and immediately hit with guilt when he sees Dabi.
We see the root of all of this. The trauma over losing his father and feeling powerless, wanting to save people so no one has to feel that kind of hurt. Seeing the perfection that is All Might and holding himself to impossible standards, only to try and find alternate methods when he realizes his own inherent weaknesses were stopping him from meeting that goal.
And when Enji is hit with the realization of all that he's fucked up, he takes responsibility for it. This is his fault. No amount of 'good' can counteract the bad, the fact that he cares for his family doesn't erase the harm he caused to them. He can't change the past, but he's going to stay around and do what he can to fix it. Even in the middle of a battle thinking he might die his lament is that he wanted to live to fix things but if he has to give his life to save them then so be it.
Meanwhile.
Gabriel.
Gabriel is being an asshole 95% of his total screentime. We occasionally see him caring for Adrien and Nathalie in earlier seasons and he /says/ he's doing this for Emilie. But that gets contradicted in later seasons as just a fluke when he uses all sorts of magic mind control on Adrien and casts Nathalie aside once she's stopped being useful and ruins his chances of saving Emilie in favor of kicking the shit out of children. Emilie's death is supposed to be his motivation which would make sense if this only started a year ago but no it started at least 15-20 years ago where he's been doing villain shit this whole time. We don't know what spurred his want for at minimum a remote control obedient doll child and possibly world domination(they swing on that so much). And when faced with what he's done, decides to just off himself instead of dealing with the conseqences and trying to fix anything(and low-key taking everyone with him).
And it double hurts because like.
I am currently writing a fic that's a deep-dive on Enji's history and 'how he got here' and all that. And it's. I won't say it's 'easy' to write because writing is hard but if you can write it's not that hard to balance this shit out.
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Do you got any deedark hcs for the people 💸
Lol okay, time to be Cringe On Maine™
Apologizing to the people that don’t follow me for Dexter’s Lab stuff.
Ehhhh hmmmm let me think 🤔
• One of the dynamics I think about a lot is her visiting him for lunch breaks. She brings him food, mostly stuff to drink, like smoothies. He gets lost in work and forgets to eat, and it worsens his performance because he’s frustrated. She does it because she wants to have an excuse to bond, the health thing was entirely incidental, he really appreciates it.
• He wouldn’t miss her recitals for the world. He can tell she’s very proud of her dancing, he’s aware she’s top of the class, so he’s very proud of her ( plus it gives him bragging rights lol ). If something gets in the way, he just time travels lmao Edit: Here’s an old headcanon I had with a friend, but he learned to dance, just to dance with her 💕
• They’re that one text post about dating someone who likes a different cereal than yours because they won’t eat yours, except Dee Dee will still eat from your stuff either way. She does it partly because she’s curious, and partly because she’s a little shit. He’s not going to sulk about it though, he’ll steal her stuff for “revenge”, right before her eyes, on the spot, just to send the message. She doesn’t get mad at all though, she likes his reactions, she loves to tease. She makes it up to him though, she figured out his tastes after all the stolen bites lmao.
• He’s still a villain but he calmed a little because he’s happier after getting with her, not because he got what he wanted, but because she distracts him from falling into negative thoughts. The whole rivalry thing brings him so much stress, so he likes to have someone that can take his mind off it. He discovered he loves to make Dee Dee happy, he’s always on the lookout for some way to impress her, his best works are inspired off her. His biggest flaw in the relationship would be falling into old habits, but Dee Dee stops him if he takes it too far.
• I really don’t think that Dee Dee hates him for being Dexter’s rival. She loves her little brother, but she knows Dexter can be rude and egocentric, and that he could stop the rivalry if he wanted, so she’s not worried about him. Dee Dee might be cute but she’s not a saint, and she’s definitely not helpless, she can handle Mandark just fine. If she’s not into him initially it’s because she’s young and he’s too dorky, but that’s not a bad thing.
• Yeah, obviously she gets on his nerves from time to time, she’s bound to. She’d probably break things around from time to time, or not understand his work, or distract him too much when he’s trying to work, but since he’s interested in keeping her around, he actually pays attention to her when she’s visiting, so the accidents happen waaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy less. Being patient and attentive with her helps her understand his boundaries better, so she tries to avoid upsetting him.
• She’d also probably make him feel jealous when she talks about celebrities or hotter people, her outgoing personality might make her come off as flirty, but she doesn’t do it on purpose. She makes sure he knows she loves him, and makes up for it to reassure him about it. Yes, it might happen that he sends a couple of robots to ruin someone’s day, but he’s usually not that insecure. And yes, he has admirers too, and they do make Dee Dee jealous 😂
Hope that works for you!
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i want to stop constantly psychoanalysing myself and everyone around me. it does nothing. actually not true it helps me understand myself and the world i live in. but at what cost. at some point it feels like im forcing sense into something random.
unrelated but i also feel like im not good enough or special enough to get a pass for all the ways my mental health makes me fail. like if i were incredibly good at something maybe that would be a valid excuse for being bad at deadlines. like people would think oh she’s just a crazy troubled artist vibes. yknow. the madness would be celebrated, whereas if i’m normal, which i am, my failures are simply just that, failures. and i am just not competent enough.
it’s 11:11 right now and i’m this close to crying. i feel extremely exhausted, probably because of my psoriasis. but yeah so physically not doing great today and i’ve got a photoshoot later. and i’m just not feeling good at all. should i even take snacks? how should i take snacks? i don’t even have those containers cause i used them to give food to people. and im just so fatigued. i don’t wanna get out of bed, i can’t even stand up for too long. it’s not fair. also my mood and everything might have a little something to do with pms maybe. i always forget the exact date im supposed to be on my periods. either way im about to have a mental breakdown or an anxiety attack. but most likely just a breakdown. i just wanna go back to sleep. i need to take a shower. and prep snacks and makeup and what not. and i have to pack my bags and load up my stuff. and borrow the projector. maybe. what would i even do with the projector? idk. nevermind. i feel like im gonna bring in a model and for what? just to shoot one dress and that too for a vague brief? like the plan isn’t even solid at all.
nvm guys i just finished the shoot and it was phenomenal. my bad.
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ROUND 2, MATCH 29
Propaganda under the cut!
Kageyuki Shiraishi
Propaganda
He's a terrible unfeeling person. He is insensitive, he teases people to the point of tears and he's the type to use being brutally honest as an excuse to be a jerkass, and despite that is also a consummate liar. He is also part of a terrorist organization, but he was brainwashed by them as a kid.
Anti-Propaganda
first off kageyukis whole personality is literally a cause of his horrible upbringing ( he was a bastard child born to a powerful political father + a mother who was only obsessed w said man ) and the fact that he grew up basically in a facility run by a religious cult / terrorist organization that taught him that he was a dispensible pawn and that feelings dont matter ( he was like. 10 man ) later before the start of the game, kageyuki is finally sent to the outside world on a "mission" for this terrorist organization and he begins to craft this "terribly honest, strange and offputting guy persona" when the protagonist meets him at the beginning of the game she actually suspects him of being part of the terrorist organization but he convinces her otherwise and so they begin this tentative partnership to find out more abt this terrorist organization. over the course of their partnership they often do not see eye to eye and he makes the protagonist upset, but doesnt actually do much harm to her and he slowly begins to actually LIKE being w her. but ofc his upbringing does Not Allow him to feel emotions in a Normal way so he kinds just fucks up over and over but its shown that he does have loving sides for her even when he tries to reject the emotions. this eventually leads to his endings. major spoilers for both good and bad endings if uu wanna avoid those !!!! in one of his bad endings, kageyuki actually ends up dying after trying to go after the terrorist organization boss in order to free and help the protagonist ( from her collar. i didnt explain that she had a collar but yeah. it had like poison and stuff in it that cld literally kill her and he didnt want that to happen so ) in his good ending tho, he takes her to the terrorist organization base and attempts to barter for her collar removal in exchange for her to be "initiated" into the organization thru killing him. he actually anticipates that the protagonist will say no tho and so she ends up shooting the boss guy, however this triggers the poison in the protags collar and so shiraishi frantically searches for the antidote ( which just so happened to be on the boss guy ) and he uses it on her. however she then falls into a coma and he nurses her back to health for a year. once she wakes up from her coma, shiraishi discovers that she has amnesia and cannot remember basically anything that happened, and so out of his love for her he simply tells her he was her doctor and that he had been nursing her back to health over the past year after she had a traumatic experience. he then calls up their mutual friends to come and help take care of her bc he had planned all along to turn himself in as part of the organization to atone for what he did and let happen, snd so him telling her nothing abt his feelings was his way of letting her go and be w someone "better for her"..however when he takes them to their friends they surprise the two of them w a christmas party since they had missed it the last year and it gently helps the protag regain her memories and she has a whole confrontation where they confront their feelings together and she decides that no matter what she will wait for him and its very sweet and very cute AND SO IN CONCLUSION KAGEYUKI SHIRAISHI IS VERY DATEABLE HE GOES THROUGH MUCH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND HE DESERVES THE WORLD !!!!!!!!!
Lucy
Propaganda
Her rent was DUE!!! 😫😫😫 …and she didn’t pay it. Smokes weed in our shared apartment. Lucy we share a wall please be quieter when you bring people over to fuck smh. She’s a good person and kind of hot but she’s annoying as hell and for that reason I’m submitting her.
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tw: csa, incest, emotional abuse, self harm, medical issues.
looking for advice.
tl;dr, i think my mother sexually abused me, but im confused and uncertain what to call it, and wondering how i could bring it up to my therapist. also, for anatomical context, im a 20yo nonbinary person who was assigned female at birth & my mother is a cisgender woman.
hi. i don’t really know how to start this so im sorry but im just gonna launch right in. basically, my mother did some things to me as a child that made me extremely uncomfortable, and which have definitely caused some trauma. this all occurred from since i was very young up until i was about 13. she watched me shower naked even when i was expressing discomfort to the point of tears, had me shower with her when i was too old and uncomfortable about it, often touched my genitals and put (non-medical) creams on and in them for "health reasons", would penetrate my vagina with her fingers during those sessions, and was naked around me all the time. when my dad would be away on trips, she would make me sleep in her bed with her while she was naked and make me hug her, and would ask me to sleep naked/with less clothes on too, but i always refused this. again, i told her how uncomfortable it made but it didn’t matter to her.
these experiences affected me pretty negatively - i have nightmares about being raped or a friend being raped, or about trying to escape a rapist. sometimes ive gotten so terrified of being assaulted, i would do illogical stuff like hanging crystals over my bed for "protection" (despite usually not believing in spiritual things - everyone’s beliefs are valid of course, but personally it’s not something i believe in) or block my door with shoes (which ultimately could be pushed out of the way so it wasn’t that effective, but again it was based more on fear than logic). i get really scared and shaky when someone touches me. i get flashback sensations where it feels like im being touched in private areas. i don’t even like to think about sex, though im not sure if that’s because of trauma or if im maybe just asexual.
the issue is, i don’t know if any of that counts as actual sexual abuse because i don’t know if she got any sexual pleasure out of it. yes, it affected me, and yes, shes a bad person in many other ways - but that doesn’t mean that she was intentionally sexually assaulting me.
she has emotionally abused me pretty severely throughout my entire life. most of it is just the usual stuff - calling me names, slurs, and swear words, telling me im worthless or a waste, threatening me, saying no one wants me and no one will ever believe me, etc. but there’s a few things that stand out in relation to her possible csa of me.
1) she definitely uses "health reasons" and medical stuff as an excuse for emotional abuse, so it would make sense for her to use it as an excuse for csa. for example, some of her emotional abuse involved taking me to a doctor and making me get a blood test because i was "behaving badly" and she decided that there must be something medically wrong with me for me to behave this way, so i had to get blood drawn to run tests. the tests came back perfectly fine. 2) she used to seemingly get some sort of pleasure out of watching me self harm. i used to hit and punch myself to the point of bruising, often using a piece of wood to make it worse, and she would just watch and laugh. she’d make comments about how i was crazy and how everyone would eventually find out that i was insane. in a weird way, those comments kind of encouraged me to hurt myself worse… i guess since she was so flippant about it, or because they made me hate myself more. anyway, i don’t know what she got out of all that, but it made her smile and laugh to see me hurt, so maybe she really does get some kind of strange pleasure out of messing with me, im not sure. 3) she often used me as a bit of a personal therapist, even when i was 6 or possibly younger, so it’s possible that she would just use me as a replacement for her husband when he wasn’t home. i’ve always felt like im no more than a belonging to her, an object that serves a purpose but should never have feelings of its own. she’s told me many times that she wanted a child so she would have someone to "talk at", and she’s admitted that she would get mad at me as an outlet for grief when her own mother died. if she used me for sexual/romantic reasons, it wouldn’t totally be out of character.
on the other hand, im sure it could be explained in a more innocent way. maybe she did touch me for health reasons. and she probably just didn’t care about my discomfort/fear/etc related to the showering and nakedness. it’s more likely that she simply didn’t care about my emotions, rather than her getting sexual pleasure from it. maybe it was just another part of her emotional abuse, except with weird physical contact and the violation of sexual boundaries, cause she really messed with me psychologically.
so is it still sexual abuse if the violation of boundaries and non-consensual touching of private areas wasn’t necessarily due to her being some kind of pedophile, but rather just not really caring or whatever? what even counts as sexual abuse/assault when it’s a woman doing it to another afab person? how can i explain it to my therapist when it’s all very complicated and unclear in my own head?
thank you for reading. hope you’re doing well.
Hi anon,
I'm so sorry to hear about everything you've been through.
I don't think that a perpetrator must derive sexual gratification in order for it to be considered sexual abuse, because intent isn't more important than impact. Sometimes genitals need to be touched for medical reasons, but it sounds like it was used as an excuse here. Even if it were "accidental" which by the repeated nature of these situations it seems otherwise, what still transpired was SA. I think also what you mentioned about the additional emotional abuse strengthens the argument that she knew what she was doing. There's no explanation for watching you shower or showering with you at an older age where this wasn't necessary. There's no explanation for being made to sleep naked with her. There's no explanation for her ignoring you expressing your discomfort with all of this. It's ultimately up to you how to name your experiences, but you can call this SA, CSA, or incest if any feel fitting to you.
I'm glad to hear that you have a therapist you can talk to about this. However you feel comfortable explaining this to your therapist is okay. You don't have to have a concise narrative, it's okay to explain it in whatever way makes most sense to you, and your therapist can explore certain parts more in order to get a more comprehensive understanding.
I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.
-Bun
#trauma talks#tw abuse#tw sa#tw child abuse#tw csa#tw incest#tw emotional abuse#tw medical abuse#tw sh#tw self harm
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I mean. if you're willing to share....then yes I am all ears on that sokeefitz angst fic...just saying *eyes*. I put this in a separate ask to give you a space to talk about it, but only if you want! Also no clue what I would want if I was sick, it's genuinely been so long I don't. I don't know what my sick safe foods are? life is so so so hard for people with strong immune systems i'm suffering so much /s
also hi hope you're feeling better! or that if you're still sick that it packs its bags and kicks its own ass to the curb soon <3
i'll answer the other stuff in the og chain; this one's juuuuust gonna be the sokeefitz angst fic lol.
basically: au (that's technically canon compliant, esp since the series isn't over? idk man don't ask) where like the shadowflux echoes in (fanon) fitz's knee, the echoes in his heart end up developing into a chronic condition. but the heart echoes are a significantly bigger threat to his health, like in canon (we don't ever see him get wiped out from the pain in his knee, but we do see him get wiped out from his heart echoes going haywire. there's examples throughout flashback of what i'm talking about). a year or two after canon ends (i'm approximating fitz'll be 18 or 19), livvy and elwin sit him down and tell him that from what they can see, they doubt he'll be able to live past 100.
they tell him that they'll do everything they can to make that statement false, but it falls on ringing ears.
from there, the premise would mainly be exploring how fitz would learn to manage his emotions to keep his heart echoes in check as best as he can - particularly anxiety and anger - plus him learning to accept that he's gone from having a shot at being a famous ancient to bring pride to the vacker family, to an elf that's become the closest to mortality that one can get. and ableism in the lost cities too, because i think realizing that a lot of the people he looked up to when he was younger valued him less as a disabled person would be a good motivator to break away from the golden boy mold and become who he actually wants to be, whoever that is.
and then there's also learning to accept almost-mortality through sophie's unique perspective on it, and helping her accept almost-immortality. slowburn exes to lovers on that front, through the power of - as keefe dubbed it in the books - cognate rawr. i'm also thinking this would be set in level 7 for fitz, so he could be roommates w/ keefe and have an '(unofficial) ex (childhood) best friends to lovers' arc.
sokeefe would be established already in this, but have a conversation fairly early on the fic where they're like 'ummm so i actually haven't moved on from fitz and it's freaking me out-' 'omg SAME' and then help each other figure out they're bi and polyam (that would be a side plot of its own, because, like. you can't do that in one scene lmao). and then once they'd reached that conclusion they'd be like 'hey so you wanna see if we can flirt our way into getting fitz to join our relationship?' 'worth a shot, sounds better than endless pining'.
ofc fitz is super dense though so he doesn't see keefe's advances as flirting until the obliviousness starts getting ridiculous, and he makes up ten million platonic excuses for sophie's actions because we broke up, there's no way she still sees me like that anymore - not when she has keefe the way she does. because as an aro i would do that in his situation and i have decided he's aro-spec <3 but they all get it together eventually. and get a cottage somewhere and fitz gets to be a baker and they just. have their happily ever after.
uuuuuuuuntil fitz is on the cusp of turning 100 and dies. because i'm evil. and i want to explore how much worse keefe's oh my god please don't leave me please please please i'd do anything to make you stay complex would get if he lost a lover and the situation was out of his control. and how much it would differ from sophie's acceptance. and how sophie's acceptance could turn into world-crushing anger and stuff after she stops feeling the need to stay strong for keefe.
and then maybe how much worse the whole please don't leave me alone please i'll do ANYTHING ANYTHING ANYTHING JUST STAY STAY STAY would get if sophie died centuries after fitz from some mission and keefe was truly on his own. just after he started feeling solid about having her in his life for a long time after the present. if i'm feeling particularly cruel by the end.
(there's a lot of scenes that made go OWOWOWOW that my brain conjured up, but. those stay in my brain until i write them. no spoilers :) also ik i'd need to do a lot of research on heart conditions to make fitz's arc more accurate to real life because even if shannon doesn't care about medical accuracy, i do lol.)
#tw death#tw major character death#ask to tag#it's 3:30am#my ear hurts :( for reasons unbeknownst to me :((#ask#bookwyrminspiraton#sokeefitz#if some of these concepts seem like i've talked about them before that's because i have#because the idea i have for a sokeefitz fix it fic is huge and now very cruel depending on what route i take when writing it#kotlc#keeper of the lost cities#fitz vacker#sophie foster#keefe sencen#disabled aro-spec fitz vacker my BELOVED. that is all
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Favorite Dragon Prince Quotes
...Yes, this is a thinly veiled excuse to talk more about this series, which my brain is refusing to shut up about lately. It's also a thinly-veiled excuse to try some different book photo things. And mess around with filters and stuff, because somehow I washed the green out of the background and managed to make the photographic covers look...well, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal full-on looks like it was done with oil pastels, so go me. I have ZERO CLUE how I did that.
What we're ACTUALLY doing with this post though is picking my favorite quotes from each book. I do not promise no spoilers, so beware and enjoy!
"Even if I was willing to marry you after one hot make-out session in a pool, you should know..." she paused, her hazel gaze skidding away from his and Toren could sense her fear.
"It doesn't matter."
"It kind of does," Carina said, looking up through her eyelashes at him. "Since Alaska undoubtedly has an extradition agreement with the United States and I'm pretty sure I'm wanted for murder."
-- pp. 60-61, The Dragon Prince of Alaska
The sound of shattering glass was her cue, and at that moment, she tightened her grip on the leash in her hand, yanking down as hard as she could. "Bad dog!" she shouted, and a black dragon dropped out of the sky onto them.
-- p. 224, The Dragon Prince of Alaska
"What's your plan of attack?"
"I pick her up at six," Rian said. "I'll take her to the nicest Indian restaurant in the area."
"Taxi? Limo? A bicycle built for two?"
Rian hadn't thought that far ahead. "Ah, a limo?"
"Got a company lined up? It's Friday, they might not have last-minute availability. You got a good suit to wear?"
"I'm wearing my uniform."
"Oh, that's subtle," Tray scoffed. [...] Do you have a hotel lined up? Where do you plan to take her afterwards?"
"I..." Rian hadn't even considered what would happen next.
"This is unlike you little brother," Tray teased. "Aren't you usually the one who is scheduled to the minute? I suppose you called the credit card company to let them know you'd be making purchases in Florida so they don't block you for fraud when you try to pay for your date?"
"I...ah..." Rian patted his pockets in sudden alarm.
"Did you at least bring a copy of your diplomatic passport?" Tray sighed.
Rian gave a groan.
"No passport?" Tray guessed.
"I forgot my wallet."
Tray really did drop his phone then; Rian could hear him chortling as he fumbled for it."
-- p. 30, The Dragon Prince's Librarian
"Toren said that he and Carina felt...what they were going to feel, before it really grew naturally between them," Rian said hesitantly. "And each other, that they felt each other. What the other one was feeling. For a little while, anyway. Spells fade."
Tania winced. "I'm sorry for that, then," she said bitterly. "But I'm glad it's only for a little while. Does it go away quickly?"
It took Rian a moment to understand what she meant.
"I'm not sorry. This..." he gestured at her can, and the tidy row of prescription bottles on the counter, "it's part of who you are. I wish I could take it from you, but I'm not sorry to know what it's like."
Tania's eyes were hollow, but tearless. "How much of it do you...get?"
Rian considered. "I feel like I'm sitting on something desperately uncomfortable, not sharp pain, just dull, heavy, and heavier still because it feels so inevitable."
-- p. 43-44, The Dragon Prince's Librarian
"Those aren't the receipts for your cane," Rian said leadingly.
Tania looked closer at the pages. "Five hundred hand-carved canes?"
"They aren't as fancy as yours," Rian said swiftly. "That's one-of-a-kind. But you said that no one should have to make do with the ugly ones insurance covers. This won't be enough for everyone of course, but the workshop said they couldn't make more than that in three months, so we're starting here. They'll be distributed to all the clinics and village health centers."
Tania made herself close her mouth as soon as she realized that it was hanging open, and she flipped to the next receipt, only to find herself opening it again in astonishment. "This is so much!"
"You shouldn't have to be royalty to get decent medical care," Rian told her firmly, and Tania recognized her own words. "This ought to go a little ways and help a few people, at least. I've hired an advisor to make sure that it goes to the people who need it, and that the application process isn't a nightmare and there aren't any weird tax loopholes..."
-- p. 214, The Dragon Prince's Librarian
"I'm sure my fiancé will greatly appreciate our safe return," Leinani said gently.
[...]
Tray didn't even attempt politeness. "And by appreciate, her highness means that you are about to face a fuckton of angry dragons."
-- p. 61, The Dragon Prince's Bride
"We don't want you, highness," Scoff sneered. "Amara wants the princess."
Tray jerked as if they'd shot him. "No, no, she promised! I have my dragon again, you can take me, you don't get to do this to her."
-- p. 182, The Dragon Prince's Bride
"You really should try to get some sleep," he said, swinging his legs off the bed. "It's hard. What you just went through. I know." He yawned and gave an exaggerated stretch. And the couch is calling me. I waited up all night, you know. That whole platonic worried roommate thing."
-- p. 191, The Dragon Prince's Bride
They had always been like water and oil, Kenth resisting his older brother's imperious direction and acting more reckless than necessary just to needle him. It had been little more than sibling rivalry at first, but the death of their mother had changed their relationship to active antipathy. Fask blamed Kenth for not being there to save her. Kenth didn't actually blame himself any less, but it poisoned any warmth that had remained between them.
And then Dana...
-- pp. 33-34, The Dragon Prince's Secret
Kenth reached out and hung up. "Gig's up," he said firmly. He turned to Mackenzie. "Stay here, stay safe. We're doing this my way now."
Allowing no further argument, he shifted and surged up into the sky, flying straight for the hotel and his daughter.
He heard Toren protest behind him, "This is not a plan! This is the opposite of a plan! What are you doing?!"
-- p. 54, The Dragon Prince's Secret
What did you say to someone who was dying? Beg him to fight? Apologize for dragging him into this mess in the first place? Confess her feelings? She couldn't untangle the emotions in her heart, let alone on her tongue.
But she could thank him, and make sure that he knew how grateful she was.
-- p. 105, The Dragon Prince's Secret
"You gave me the sky," she said, tearfully grateful and glad.
"It was always yours," Kenth told her. "And no one can take it from you now."
-- p. 242, The Dragon Prince's Secret
"Oh that's glorious," she said. "Is it magic?"
"No, but this is..." Raval dragged his fingers over a well-worn passage. "Pause," he said.
All of the water stopped, every particle suspended in midair, and Katy sucked in her breath.
Every drop was a motionless jewel, and they were standing in a chamber of glistening enchantment. It was beautiful, which had not been part of Raval's original purpose, but he was glad of it now, because Katy loved it so much.
"I've never seen anything like it," she gasped. "I'm in a chandelier!" She swept a hand through the hanging drops, dragging them along behind her in a trail of sparkling lights.
-- pp. 77-78, The Dragon Prince's Magic
"You are magic," she said in awe. Then she scrutinized him. "Why does this make you feel guilty?"
"It's frivolous," Raval said frankly. "It serves no one but me. It was months of work that I did only for myself. It can't be duplicated and I don't even want anyone in my bathroom to enjoy it." He quickly added, "Except for you."
"You're allowed to have projects for yourself," Katy said kindly.
Raval could not feel a single hint of disappointment in her, so she must understand. "It was a lot of work. I ought to focus that kind of effort on something that betters humanity or saves lives or fixes realistic problems."
There was a softness to Katy's mind that made Raval recognize all the prickles of his own.
"I love you," she said. "I love you to the very bottom of your giant heart."
-- p. 78, The Dragon Prince's Magic
Knowing academically about magic was a lot different from suddenly being transported somewhere unknown in a fiery magical explosion, so Katy thought it was probably understandable that she screamed and clutched at Lancelot.
-- p. 97, The Dragon Prince's Magic
A baby.
Katy's baby.
His baby.
A baby they made.
-- p. 140, The Dragon Prince's Magic
"You are missing ussssss," a disembodied voiced boomed through the stone walls, and then, suddenly, there was a ring of spirits around the table in the center of the cavern. They looked, at a glance, mostly human, but each of them was wreathed in an aspect of their element. A man seemed made of stone, his skin moving like little pebble landslides as he walked. A woman had trees for hair and leaves over her body like feathers. One man seemed to be smoldering, shrouded in smoke, and another was actively wearing flames.
And there was Angel, standing soaking wet like she'd just come up out of the water, her hair wild around her.
-- p. 291, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal
The Alaskan prince collapsed onto Angel, who gave a gargle of pain and triumph. Violet flames wreathed them both and died away, leaving only a tangle of charred flesh and a puddle that might have been water...or blood.
-- p. 297, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal
"What was the bet that had Rian wandering naked around the castle? If we're going to get married, you can't keep a secret that huge from me."
Alasie's eyes danced, even though her lips were as serene as ever. "That was the bet," she revealed.
Drayger stated at her, waiting for the sentence to make sense. When it didn't, he persisted. "What was the bet? How was that the bet? I don't get it."
"It wasn't Rian wandering the castle in the nude," Alasie said. "It was Tray. The bet was he could mimic his twin so successfully that even if he spent a week completely stark naked he could still fool everyone."
Drayger stared. "And he did."
-- pp. 323-324, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal
Y'all...these books might be silly, fluffy shifter romances, but I literally cannot explain how they ended up living rent-free in my head. Hopefully some of these quotes explain it a bit.
Barring that, you might just have to read the books to figure it out.
#royal dragons#dragon prince of alaska#dragon prince#shifters#shifter romance#dragon shifter#elva birch#book quotations#book quotes#books and reading#books and novels#books#book recommendations
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Merry Christmas. Everyone else is sleeping now, but I’ve drank soda that contains coffeine so I’m still awake at 4AM 🤦🏻♀️.
My sister came over with her kiddos and her ex. It’s funny, my mom has two daughters who bring their exes over for Christmas. I don’t have an excuse of a shared kid, though. I’m just very close with my ex and he likes my mom’s food and also, my nephew adores him. And he’s a good rolemodel with his health stuff and training and sobriety and generally just a well behaved, proper person. Good for my nephew to look up to. They get along very well. They spent one and a half hours intensely chatting without me.
Discussing Andrew Tate 🤦🏻♀️
My sister and I were talking with my mom about childbirth and pregnancies and all that and sis and I continued when mom left and I opened up about personal worries; post partum depression, not feeling a connection with my child. I read some articles about mothers not feeling any love toward their kids when they are born.
My sister went into a whole monologue about how that’s not me. She’s always had a vision about me, one hundred percent birthing a baby girl, and seeing me hold my baby in my arms, with only hearts in my eyes, the hearts filling the whole room so much that you have to open the windows to get any space in there. That the whole world disappears while I look at my baby, and how motherhood will be the most natural part of life for me. Like I was made for it. She actually got really emotional and teared up as she was talking about her vision and at the end she was crying. I asked her why she’s crying and she told me she just always had that vision of me and that it was always quite beautiful.
Anyway. I did not have time to visit my home today, so I went into my mother’s closet and looked through all her XXL dresses. I found a white one and a belt, and it just had to do.
I thought about applying makeup, I really did. I had my makeup bag with me. But I didn’t. I don’t know whether this is perceived as me giving up on my looks or sth, or me becoming comfortable in my natural-ness. I know, in today’s world, it’s really hard to compete against fillers, surgery, fake teeth, lashes, nails, filters, makeup - but I really do feel like swimming against the stream. Humbling down, being the opposite of superficial and show off-y. And then it’s the truth, that for some people you’ll be beautiful and to some not, and wouldn’t you rather be with someone who does find you attractive and whose type you actually absolutely are? Even naked and raw.
Me and my ex baked a carrot cake. And then he kept making me go through tasks because he was silly and lazy, but he masked them as ’test to see if you’re housewife material’ and wanted me to do absolutely ludicrous stuff that we ended just absolutely shrieking of laughter. Damn. Why do we have so much fun together? If he was a girl he definitely would have been my bff. Jesus. Pisces are such a funny zodiac sign.
Also Baby had a lot of fun today because my newphew always plays with her. When the others left we watched a korean zombie-virus film.
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Got a nice set of interviews to talk about. One was for an Office Assistant, I went to the address, no sign, the closest building was a gentleman's club, so I wasn't going in there to ask for directions. I called but nobody answered so I called the recruiter and they gave me directions...to an abandoned race track. That's right. Let me set the scene, I had Kavinsky - Nightcall on and I head up this gravel road. I reach the cress "I'm gonna give you a night call to tell you how I feel." I see the busted up old road, no way through but across the track is a trailer and a few trucks.
I go around and head over, the trucks had the logo of the place so I was good. I head inside the trailer and get interviewed. Apparently they're working on getting a warehouse and this is just a starting position, it had an office and stuff you'd expect. He star talking about "me" so I'm not gonna lie, I just tell him. If he expects me to shape my personality to this job, thats stupid. Apparently this position has to do with accounting which I of course have no experience in. They knew this and it wasn't on the job description but the other half was doing excel sheets and printing and proposals and more office type stuff which is what I actually applied for. He said "I'll tell you what I think." After about 30 minutes of talking, he tells me that he thinks I'm not right for the job "because" of the accounting stuff and instead of teaching me, he wants someone who already has experience. However, he brings up a field technician position and says how that more closely aligns with what we were talking about regarding my personality, I showed interest and he said to call him Tuesday morning, the day of my other interview with another company that I blew off once already to babysit 😅
Now this one I knew wasn't going to work out with the distance and gas issue, they just weren't paying enough unless I could talk them up. I mainly just went to see how they make cookies 😂 also to please my dad 👨. I go there, no complimentary cookies, in fact, it was kind of a dumb experience, the guy liked hearing himself talk as he was giving me the tour, he acted like I was already on the job. I get sat in the waiting room again and they send the actual interviewer in to get me and we talk a little and they ask about my background and ask if there's any reason they wouldn't like me or whatever and I'm like "Shouldn't be." so she says "I'm going to send you out to the waiting room and see if I can talk to someone else." Someone else? That's a weird way of putting it. You mean my references? The audacity of this- If she actually had enough audacity, she would've called them while I was in the room, it doesn't make sense that you put the interview on hold to call my refs, you should've either already done that or wait until after. References are a rouse anyway, nobody really calls them, it's like an unspoken thing and they're just left out of the loop to play by the book.
And all this for $14 an hour, sorry $12 something because they told me that if I were to get health insurance, my wage would get docked yet I still had to pay the premium, which sounds really sketchy, I had insurance at my old job and my wage wasn't docked, wtf. I looked it up and it does in fact look like they can't do that (unless I'm misreading). So that was a bust out of a bust.
Now the call with the other company. I'm already suspicious because you're really going tell me to call again to see if I have the job. Idk why YOU can't just call me? I could see someone saying "to show you're really serious about this job." But I don't need to be jerked around, if you're hiring, you should be hiring, letting me know about the process, if you're too busy to do that then you need to hire someone. Or "keep calling because it's a test to see how resilient you are." screw you, that's just a ridiculous excuse to not keep your schedule, people have been shifting blame for generations that way, I'm not about to tolerate it to keep it going. But on top of that, I lost the business card so I had to look up the number. I call, I text, no answer, that's another thing, why not just call me at your convenience rather than me trying at 9am like you told me and you not be there? I call again and someone else answers. I actually forgot this dude's name and this was a woman's voice, she was connected through the company but dang, kinda messed that up by losing the card so I just said that I was expected to call yada yada and they knew who I was talking about. She said she'd tell him to call, so I wait, already not happy bc I had to wake up to make this call. He never called back, screw 'em.
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i am JUST saying if my eating disorder actually made me skin and bones one my family wouldn’t rag on my health as much TWO maybe literally anyone would respect my weird relationship with food ❤️ eating disorder blogs PLEASE don’t fucking interact i’m in recovery
#i used to live off four meals per week IF that and yet everyone’s like hm. i need you to fast restrict and diet ur way thin#personal#my mom calling me manipulative for calling out the fact she knows nothing about my life but i constantly know shit about hers bc the only#thing in relation to me she wants to talk about is my fucking body ❤️#move out or lose weight i won’t watch you destroy yourself where was that energy when i was STRAVING#ohhh you eat in secretttt#ma’am one time we had a fight an actual honest to god fight bc#and i cannot emphasize this#bc i had a bowl of soup and two pieces of bread#AFTER BIKING FOR A FEW HOURS#Like i feel like i should lose weight and try to eat healthier but like#for my bodies sake#not so i’m more fuckable you know ❤️#she does bring up actual health stuff but it just feels like an excuse#all of this bc of nuts#NUTS#i will admit i was in the wrong for being like if i get diabetes i’ll just kill myself is that fair is that fair mom#it double sucks bc we were having a nice day too. she complains she can’t talk to me without drama well#i can’t hang out with her without her just#attacking something#i also ended up idk#it wasn’t screaming but i’m like i have no idea what i’m doing with my life#and she’s just okay figure it out or move out?#in relation to college#anyway
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only you and me
w/c: 6.7k
warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing
summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way
a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy
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“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.
or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.
he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.
“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”
“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”
and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.
“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”
“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.
he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.
peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.
“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”
right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.
that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.
peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.
“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.
harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.
he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.
he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.
it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.
“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”
“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.
“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.
“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.
he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”
you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.
what the hell is going on?
peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.
“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.
peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“
the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.
peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.
he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.
flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.
“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.
harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.
“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.
“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?
“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.
he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.
“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.
“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”
everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.
today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.
“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”
you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.
he should tell you that.
“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.
peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.
after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”
you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.
“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”
peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”
“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”
“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.
“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.
you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.
“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”
“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”
the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.
you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”
“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.
the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.
your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.
“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.
“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.
sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.
“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.
this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.
“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.
“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”
though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.
a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.
staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.
“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.
“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.
some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.
ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.
did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.
may always says he should trust his instincts.
peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.
“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.
peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.
“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”
he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?
you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.
he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.
you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.
“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”
now you’re cancelling?
you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.
“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.
“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.
that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.
there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.
he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.
he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.
the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.
your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.
he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.
cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.
peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.
“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.
“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.
“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.
just the two of you didn’t last so long.
“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”
harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.
“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.
“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.
peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.
when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.
nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?
peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.
“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.
he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.
“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.
things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.
neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.
“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”
this is going better than he expected.
“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”
to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.
“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”
obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.
in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.
“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.
you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.
he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.
“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.
“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”
he’s going to end you one day.
“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.
“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”
having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.
“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.
“even better. let’s go home.”
#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker smut#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfiction#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland imagine
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A Wife for Thor Pt.22
Obstacle
04/08/2021
Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,413
Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki
A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!
Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.
REBLOGS are always welcome!
The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.
It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.
Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.
Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.
Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.
Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.
It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.
“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..
As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.
Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.
Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.
He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.
“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.
“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”
“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”
“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”
“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”
“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”
Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.
Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.
A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.
The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.
It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.
“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”
The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.
Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.
He's really in there.
“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.
"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.
“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."
There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.
"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.
“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”
The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.
Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.
They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.
"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.
"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.
"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.
So, it's not completely a lie.
"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"
You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?
You don't care.
"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."
To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.
"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."
The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.
"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.
A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.
"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."
You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.
As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.
The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.
You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.
"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.
"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.
"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."
That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?
You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.
"I'm nervous," you admit.
"To see Thor?"
"Mm," you nod.
"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."
"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."
"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."
You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.
Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.
You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.
You have to protect yourself.
It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.
Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.
Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.
"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.
"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."
Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.
The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.
"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.
"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."
"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~
Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.
You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.
How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?
It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.
You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.
Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.
To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.
"I'm here."
His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.
"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.
"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.
He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.
You want him so much.
"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"
You frown, so undecided.
"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."
Why is this so hard?
You want to feel him.
"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.
A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.
Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.
"Really?"
"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."
Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.
You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.
In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.
"Here," you gasp.
Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.
Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.
For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.
He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.
“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.
As he speaks, the baby kicks more.
Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.
“We really made her,” Thor gushes.
“Her?”
He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”
Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.
This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.
He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.
You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.
He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.
Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.
“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”
You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.
You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.
“Is this alright? I can go.”
The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.
“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.
You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.
“No, don’t go.”
It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.
“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”
“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”
“Can I kiss you, cherub?”
His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.
His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.
He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.
The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.
As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.
The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,
You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.
“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."
His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.
You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.
"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."
Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.
“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.
The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.
Or does this feel like a dream?
“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.
“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.
Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.
He pulls back again, “Is this real?”
He kisses you.
“You feel so good in my arms.”
He kisses you.
“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.
He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.
“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”
His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.
In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.
You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.
“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”
“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”
“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”
Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.
He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.
“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”
He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.
He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.
Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.
“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.
“Yes, my cherub?”
He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.
“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.
Has he always been this handsome?
“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”
“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.
“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”
Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.
You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.
“What did you say exactly?”
Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.
“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”
Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.
“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”
“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?
“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”
He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.
“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”
He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.
“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”
Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”
“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”
You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.
A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.
Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.
“Now we know better,” you whisper.
“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”
You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.
The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.
“What about you?”
Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.
“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.
“Very well, then. What about me?”
“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.
He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”
“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”
Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.
It’s slow and full of emotion.
“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”
“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”
Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.
“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”
You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.
“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”
You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.
“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”
Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.
“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.
He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.
As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”
Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.
“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”
Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.
You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”
But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.
#king!thor x reader#thor x reader#arranged marriage au#royal au#a wife for thor#king!thor x reader fanfiction#king!thor x reader fanfic#king!thor x reader fic#king!thor x you#thor x reader fanfiction#thor x reader fanfic#thor x reader fic#thor x you#marvel fanfiction#marvel au#a wife for thor pt22
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Don’t Worry - Harry Styles
a/n: i’m so excited about this!!! this fic is my take on the song Don’t Worry by The 1975 for @harrystylescherry ‘s Playlist fic challenge! it took me a lot longer to finish this one, mostly because i chose to write about a topic that’s painfully close to my heart and life and i hope to help those of you who are struggling with similar problems. it’s a touchy subject and i really hope i can at least help just for a little by putting this piece out!
also, huge thanks to Nat for this challenge and i can’t wait to read all the other fics!!
warning: eating disorder, lots of self-hatred but even more fluff and love!
word count: 3.8k
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Your teeth sink into your bottom lip a little harder than they should, it’s starting to feel painful but you don’t even realize. You’re way too fixated on the Instagram post in front of you, swiping through the same four pictures over and over again, crippling anxiety crawling up your spine, clouding your every thought.
Oh how you wish you could say that you’re not the jealous type. Well, in a way, you are not. You don’t think your boyfriend would ever cheat on you or leave you, that’s just not him as a person. Your jealousy roots in your insecurities about your body and it creates more of a confusion in your head about why Harry, your boyfriend of three years is really dating you when he could have anyone, any model or super gorgeous singer, actress out there, yet he settled for… you.
Your thumb swipes across the screen again as you keep staring at the bikini photos Kendall Jenner has recently posted. She is stunning, the perfect model type with her long legs, skinny torso and snatched waist. Hell, she could make you question your sexuality on other days even, but today she is feeding your burning insecurities.
The thought that at one point in life, your boyfriend was with her makes you feel sick, because you are simply nothing like her. In every sense, you are what others like to call curvy, however you often use other terms, some not too nice ones on your worse days. Your hips are wide, holding quite some meat on them, your full thighs never heard of such thing as thigh gaps, not even when you were a kid. Your tummy brings you a headache sometimes when you want to wear something tight, the urge to hide it stronger than your fashion sense. It’s been ages since you last dared to step out of the house without a bra on, your full breasts always need the support if you don’t want them to sit a little lower on your chest than what you prefer. There are rolls, extra skin, stretch marks and all that jazz on your body and has been for a long time. No model looks like this and you are more than aware of that. But if your boyfriend can get any of them, why did he settle for you?
Tears are threatening to roll down your cheeks when you finally close the app and stop staring at Kendall’s perfect body. You ball your hands to stop them from shaking as you make your way to the bathroom in need of some freshening up. The cold water in your face feels nice, but the moment your eyes fall on your reflection you almost cringe at your own sight, as if it’s a reminder of everything you thought about in the past hour.
What is Harry doing with someone like me? The question keeps playing in your head on repeat and you wish you had a relevant answer, but your tainted thoughts keep bringing you back to the same point: He surely will realize it himself and leave me.
You try your best to shake it all off your mind, but it’s not easy. Sitting at the dining table you busy yourself with some work you brought home, hoping the files will keep your wandering thoughts at bay, however the attempt is not quite successful. And then you hear the front door open and close, followed by Harry’s sweet greeting.
“I’m home, baby!” he calls out and you can tell he is in a great mood just from his voice. You force your best fake smile to your lips, not wanting to ruin his mood with your petty party. He walks in, eyes falling on your sitting figure at the table and though you don’t know it, his heart flutters, like always, even after three years together.
Harry is obsessed with you, to say the least. Every little thing about you fascinates him, he loves everything about you, inside and out, just the way you are and he vowed to never stop telling you how much he adorns you.
“Hey there, wha’cha doin’?” he asks, kissing into your hair as he scans over the papers on the table.
“Oh, just… some extra work,” you shrug, chewing on your bottom lip again, the skin is about to break soon for sure.
“Baby, you work too much. Take some time off,” he tells you, shuffling around before he disappears in the bedroom for a moment before reappearing. “Fancy taking a bath with me?” he offers with a cheeky smile.
Bath, for that you’d have to be completely naked in front of him. That cannot happen in this state of mind.
“Um, I want to finish this. Maybe next time,” you tell him with a faint smile.
“You sure? I could massage your shoulders the way you like it so much, we could try that new bath salt we bought.”
“I really want to get this done, H. You just go and enjoy your bath,” you insist, the stern voice catches him a little by surprise.
“Everything alright baby?” His eyebrows pull together as he watches you from across the room.
“Mm, everything is fine. Just… working,” you tell him, eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending like you’re reading the lines, but in reality you have absolutely no idea what the words are saying. You hear him mumble a soft alright before he disappears again, leaving you alone.
A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips once you hear the water running in the bathroom. You bury your face in your palms, feeling so defeated and lost, the only thing that would comfort you would be Harry, but he cannot know what’s been going on in your head. He would never understand the struggle.
These thoughts usually only last for a few days. You always manage to forget about them eventually and return to normality, but not this time. Days turn into weeks and you find yourself sinking deeper into the hole you created for yourself. It starts to effect more parts of your life too. You’re having a hard time sleeping, always waking up several times during the night and sometimes you don’t even fall back asleep after one point. You lose your appetite, your mind tells you that you don’t need the nutritious food, that you need to lose the fat because that’s the only way you can keep Harry. You stop wearing your favorite clothes, always opt for the looser ones that hide every inch of your body and spend way too much time zoned out. You keep catching yourself completely lost in your thoughts during the day, thinking about how Harry might be comparing you to his exes every time he sees you, especially naked.
It’s been long since the last time you were intimate with Harry and you feel so bad for it, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to bare your body in front of him. You always blew him off with some lame excuse and though there’s a chance he didn’t catch onto whatever was going on, now you know he is suspicious.
And you’re right. Harry notices every little thing, all the changes you’ve been going through. How you leave half your plate uneaten at dinner or how he finds you lying awake next to him in the middle of the night. He also notices how your favorite dresses and shirts remain untouched through the weeks even though you always wear them whenever you have the chance. Instead, he only sees you in big hoodies and loose pants, hiding the delicious curves of your body. But what truly pains him is how you’ve been ignoring all his tries to get close to you, the way you move away from his touch.
The last straw however happens on a Friday afternoon. You are sitting on the couch, mindlessly clicking through Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch when Harry is roaming through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for the lotion he only uses when his skin feels extremely dry. He is going through every drawer and shelf, not finding what he is looking for, but then something odd catches his attention. Some weird named pills are sitting at the back of one of the shelves, hidden behind your perfumes so he hasn’t noticed it, but as he takes it out to have a better look at them, he almost throws them across the room. He has heard of similar pills before, they do more harm than help in weightloss, ruining your digestive system so badly you can actually get way more serious health problems if you use them too long. He frantically tears the box open and see that one third of the pills are gone, meaning that you’ve been taking them for a little while now behind his back.
With the box in his hand, he marches out to the living room where you are still and holding the pills up, he needs everything in him not to flip immediately.
“What the fuck are these?” he grits through his teeth. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he was never supposed to find those, but the cat’s out of the bad and now you can’t think of anything to bring up to your defense, knowing well he very much does not approve these kind of stuff.
“They are… I’m doing a cleanse,” you say, but there’s no use to lie.
“Drinking juice is for cleansing, this shit ruins your body,” he spats, throwing the box to the couch and you bite into your bottom lip, feeling the tears building up already. “Why would you even think about taking these?”
“Why?” you chuckle bitterly, your vision blurry from the tears. “Oh come on, don’t be so oblivious.”
“Y/N, these stuff are dangerous!” his anger turns into despair and concern as he sits beside you on the couch. “Baby, why did you take them?”
“Because I’m desperate, Harry!” you snap at him, the hot tears running down your cheeks. “You have no idea what I go through every fucking day!”
“Then talk to me! I want to know everything, I want to help you!” he pleads, reaching for your hand but you move away from him. “Please talk to me, baby!”
“So you can feed me lies? I’m not naïve, Harry,” you shake your head vigorously.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me! I’m talking about… this,” you growl gesturing at yourself. Harry runs his gaze down your body, but he still can’t figure out what this is about. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, he has no idea what the matter is. “I’m not one of your exes and all those models you’ve been rumored to date, Harry.”
“Okay and why is that relevant?”
“Because how am I the right person for someone like you? I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty and I’ll probably never be anything like the girls you dated. Why are you even wasting your time on me?”
By the time you get to the end, your tears are flooding and it breaks Harry’s heart to see you like this. Feeling so unworthy when in his eyes, you deserve everything. You’re perfect.
“I’m not wasting anything on you, baby. Why do you even want to look like them? I love every inch of your beautiful body!”
You flinch at his words. Deep down you know he means them, but there’s this barricade on your mind that tells you he is not serious, that he is only saying those things because he feels like he has to say them, not because he means them. That evil little voice in your head keeps telling you not to believe anything he says.
How could he love your body? How could a man like him be okay with someone like you? He doesn’t want to be with you. He’ll realize it and leave you!
You wish you could turn it off, you wish there was a switch that would shut out all these thoughts, but they just keep coming and coming. Harry watches you break right in front of his eyes and he has no idea what to do, panic is setting in. He feels like a failure that he let you reach this point.
“Baby, I fucking love you. Everything about you. Please don’t feel like you have to change for me. I love you no matter what, I think you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. If you want to change, do it because you want to do it for yourself! You don’t have to change for me!”
He is practically begging, desperate to get you to understand that you’re perfect to him just the way you are, that he is in love with every inch of your beautiful body. He reaches out to your face again and though you move away again and it pains him so much, he still goes through with the action and cups your face in his hand. His clammy palm meets your wet cheek as he turns your head so he can look into your eyes, but you are relentlessly keeping your gaze focused anywhere but him.
You can’t bear looking at him or yourself, you just want to disappear, vanish into nothing, existence right now feels like just too much.
“Love, please look at me,” he quietly begs and you shake your head no. “Please, let me see those beautiful eyes I love so much.”
You wince at his words and try to turn your head away, but he cups the other side of your face with his other hand, keeping it in place. Your eyes are wired shut, you just can’t look at him, it would break you.
Harry is kneeling next to the couch now where you are curled up, your arms wrapped around your knees as you try to hide yourself. You feel so lost, so miserable and you wish he didn’t see you like this.
“I can’t, Harry. I can’t,” you tell him shaking your head vigorously. Part of you feels so stupid for acting like this, but you just can’t help it. It’s not you anymore who is in charge of your mind and actions, you feel more like just a witness who sees herself from the outside and she doesn’t like what she sees, not even a bit.
Harry pushes himself up from the ground and takes the thick blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you as he shimmies himself next to you, arms wrapping around your frame as he pulls you to his chest, covering you with the warm blanket as if it was some kind of shield from the world and that’s exactly what you need. A hiding spot.
You let him pull you to him, face buried into his chest as you sob into his shirt, his strong arms holding you so tight, you feel like nothing can hurt you with his hold around you.
“I love you, baby. I really do. And when I tell you I find you gorgeous and that how pretty I think you are, that’s the truth. I love everything about you. Fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’m not even joking. Please don’t ever think that you have to change for me.”
“But I can’t stop thinking about how I’m so different from the people you’ve dated,” you whimper shaking your head. His hands squeeze your upper arm as he kisses the crown of your head.
“Different is not bad, baby. I didn’t date my previous girlfriends because they looked the way they did. If I’m thinking about it, I should feel a little offended you think I’m so shallow to care about these stuff,” he jokes, earning a faint huff that’s somewhat a laugh from you.
“I just think that you’re not blind.”
“That is correct,” he chuckles. “I’m not blind, that’s why I find you so incredibly sexy.”
“I really don’t see how you can use the word sexy to describe me,” you mumble closing your eyes as a headache is starting to form from how hard you were crying just a minute ago.
“What do you think there is on you that I shouldn’t find attractive?” he prompts the question in all seriousness.
“Please don’t get me started because we’ll never get to the end of the list,” you huff bitterly. It might have come out as a joke but there’s just plenty of the truth behind your words.
“No, seriously. Tell me what you think I don’t find attractive on you,” he nags and you give up with a sigh.
“Okay, I… I have fat rolls on my stomach,” you start off with the first thing that’s on your mind.
“Everyone has them.”
“But not as big as mine. Yours aren’t as big as mine.”
“So what? I love your tummy. It’s soft, keeps your organs safe, especially the ones that will help us start a family at one point. For me, your tummy means that you are enjoying the wonderful foods of the world, that you are well and have a great appetite. I fucking hate it when girls are just poking around their salads, complaining about calories and all that stuff. Do you have any idea how much I enjoy watching you eat? I think it might be a fetish at this point,” he chuckles, making you laugh as you hide your face in his chest.
“Please don’t say that.”
“Why? I love it when you enjoy the food, I love trying new food with you, cooking with you, see you satisfied when you’re full, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“Really?” you ask in a whisper.
“Absolutely. I love your tummy, it’s just even more of you to love on,” he hums kissing the top of your head. “Okay, what’s next?”
“I have so many stretch marks,” you whine with a scowl. “They are everywhere, on my thighs, my ass, my stomach, fucking everywhere!”
“I literally have nothing else to say than… I couldn’t care less. Honestly, most people have them, baby. It’s natural, your body is changing, it’s just trying to keep up with the pace. But you know what I’m looking forward to?”
“What?”
“I can’t wait till you have marks from pregnancy, Love,” he huffs dreamily and you can’t help, but smile at his words. “Those marks will be a reminder to me how much you’ve gone through for our family. I think those are just so wonderful.”
“Why are you linking everything with having babies?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks chuckling. “Because I can’t wait to have babies with you. I can’t wait to see you with a big belly, so I can love on you, take care of you and that our babies, I’m so excited for that.”
“You want all of that… with me?”
“Have I not made it clear to you?” he asks, looking down at you and moving your head your eyes finally meet his. “I’m not just saying all those things for nothing, Love. I see my future with you.”
Closing your eyes you let his words sink in and for the first time in a while, your mind is not trying to convince you that he is not telling you the truth.
“Okay, next,” he mumbles, his fingers dancing up and down your arm as he holds you tight.
“My boobs are weird,” you say out loud, cringing at your own words. You hate talking about this.
“Excuse me? What’s wrong with my girls?” he gasps, making you laugh.
“They are not as round as I would want them to be, a little saggy because of the weight gaining.”
“But they are boobs,” he points out, making you furrow your eyebrows.
“Yeah?”
“Okay, so that’s all that matters. Boobs are great, nothing else matters. Men are simple, baby.”
“I can’t believe you,” you laugh swatting his chest playfully.
“What? I mean it! Do you think I think about all that stuff when I see your boobs? My mind goes: Oh my God, boobs! And that’s it. I just get excited to see your tits.”
“You are such a pig,” you laugh, snuggling closer to his side.
“Are you shaming me for my preferences now?”
“Your preferences?”
“Yeah, you are my preference,” he remarks smugly, kissing into your hair again. “I literally don’t know how to say it differently, and I’m sorry for being so vulgar in advance…”
“Oh God,” you mumble, already fearing what he’s going to say.
“But you have nothing to worry about until you see my dick getting hard at the sight of you.”
“That was highly inappropriate.”
“Yeah, but it’s true. I find you sexy and there’s evidence. I can’t really hide it,” he chuckles and when you look up at him you see a dirty, twisted smirk on his pink lips. “Please don’t ever doubt any of my feelings for you, alright?” he asks in a more serious tone. “And if you feel like this again, I want you to tell me. Those pills and bottling it up inside you don’t help. I don’t want you to risk your health just because you have doubts about me. I love you, and when I say that I mean that I love all of you. Everything.”
“Okay,” you answer in a faint whisper.
“Don’t just say okay because you want me to get out of your hair. Promise me that you won’t keep it to yourself. I want to help you, I want to be there for you like you are always there for me.”
“I promise,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.
“Alright. Have you eaten today?” he softly asks and you fear to give him an answer, because you haven’t been able to push anything else down than just your morning coffee. “Okay, then let me make you something.”
“I don’t… I’m not hungry…” you quietly tell him.
“Mhm, then I’ll make something for myself and being the romantic boyfriend that I am, I’m gonna share it with my lovely girlfriend as a cute gesture,” he says, rephrasing what he said earlier. You don’t argue with him, just let him slip out of your hold and go to the kitchen to make something for the two of you.
It’s a tiny step on a lifelong journey and you know that. You know that your feelings and opinion about yourself won’t change from one day to the other, but you slowly start to accept it. You have a lot ahead of you, the road might get bumpy sometimes and maybe other times you’ll have to take a few steps back. But at the end, you know it’s all going to be alright, because you will never be alone. Harry will be your greatest support through it all and now you can finally see that.
Don’t Worry - The 1975
When you're in love but you don't know what to do with it
When blackness hangs overhead like a cloud
Don't worry, darlin'
'Cause I'm here with you
Don't worry, darlin'
The sun will shine through
When you wake up and you don't know what day it is
When the pain flows through your heart and your bones
Don't worry, darlin'
'Cause I'm here with you
Don't worry, darlin'
The sun will shine through
When you feel no one knows just what you're goin' through
When your insides feel much colder than snow
Don't worry, darlin'
'Cause I'm here with you
Don't worry, darlin'
Oh, don't worry, darlin'
Don't worry, darlin'
I'll always love you
You
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#playlistficchallenge#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fluff
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