#Sour Streamers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

criminalamnesia · 1 year ago

Text

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

2K notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 2 months ago

Text

studying birds and bees

3.5 k words / warnings - penetrative sex (i imagined a vag but there's no anatomy listed), riding

summary - viktor, alone and glum, is not comforted by the company of a fellow scientist at a hextech exhibition party. not until you mention taking him home, at least.

Gold drenches each wall in streamers and plates. Curtains shimmer overhead. Silver platters dazzle each passing caterer’s hand -- specialties half the size of his palm gleam fresh and dewy. Clear coupes and flutes pass, full of wheat sparkles. Sour, no doubt, but sure enough to waste a man as thin as he.

So surely, in fact, that Viktor actively avoids drinking anything besides water. He’s a common lightweight, never finding time to flex tolerance between working hours, and he distrusts anything he can’t see through. Anything that has a smell, whether it’s sour or sweet, he staunchly avoids.

Similarly, he refuses to follow conversation: people unreasonable or unfortunate in nature that approach are limited to singular, curt responses. Thankfully he’s smart enough, well-regarded enough, famed enough that it has no bearing on his life outside these miserable hours. Hours he’s sure are better spent down in the lab. Nose buried into his work: he’s most comfortable that way, living as he always has.

Viktor believes his hate is layered beneath several swathes of cool. An expression he believes to be neutral -passive, if anything- is actually a scathing scowl that has many guests rushing off to inform Jayce of his unapproachable partner.

He hears that a lot.

He’s impersonal, strange, distant.

He likes living that way. It makes working easier.

Jayce is everything he is not: warm, talkative, generous. His face is on porcelain mugs.

Viktor would know that, he got one for a generous discount of Free. It’s sitting in his sink at this very moment, coffee dribbling the rim and baked into the bottom. It could risk a stain if he doesn’t wash it before bed tonight.

But then, who knows? Perhaps he’ll be too exhausted from standing all night and straining a smile whenever he makes eye contact with Jayce. At some point, the muscles in his cheeks become too sore, so he begins ignoring the man wrapped around Mel Medarda.

If he’s lucky, Jayce will not try waltzing over to ask for the third time if Viktor is enjoying the night.

And if he’s unlucky, as he suspects he is, then someone else is rapidly crossing the shiny tiles toward him. Two glasses, one in either hand, glinting beneath ball lights. Shoe heels clicking closer and closer until it’s pounding right beside his ear.

“Never saw anything like this back home, did we?”

You say it so familiarly, as if you know anything about Viktor’s home. Maybe you do. But not like that.

“No,” he answers politely enough despite pointedly ignoring the glass you offer him, “we didn’t.”

“I got a real drink for you,” you’re not content to be ignored though, “I noticed you’ve been nursing an empty cup.”

“We didn’t have anything like that in the undercity, I don’t know if I trust it.”

“Then trust me,” you sip from your glass, leaving a dewy smear around the lip, “It’s not bad. Sharp, but not bad.”

Viktor leans more weight onto his cane as he leans, grabbing the glass from you before slanting back, “Sharp, but not bad.”

You swing another sip, watching from the corner of your eye as his arm remains stationary -though you don’t comment, “You seemed incredibly lonely.”

“So you thought it’d be generous to bother me.”

“Practically,” you clink glasses, “You strike me as a man who doesn’t get bothered often. Someone should keep you upright.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” not even he can tell whether he means that genuinely or not. Maybe he does, but only as long as it isn’t you providing the company. His eyes flutter and he imagines: if it were Sky, would he be satisfied?

Jayce?

Mel?

Heimerdinger?

His long disgraced mentor?

“You finally get to leave the lab and you insist on spending the time alone, I wonder why…” you say with enough wisp in your tone to excuse it as a non-question.

Viktor puffs a laugh, weighed down by annoyance -- do you have no eyes? Are you ignorant to your surroundings? Scratch that, his laugh was a total scoff by the time it breached his throat.

“I’m not interested in people,” Viktor briefs, then sighs, “Especially the types that feel the need to keep me company- like I’m some sad thing on the side of the road.”

“You don’t want to feel pitied?”

“Who would?”

“People who’ve never experienced harshities.”

Viktor shakes his head, swirling the glass flute and watching the bubbles twirl, “I don’t care for any of this conversation.”

“Then what conversation would you care for?”

“Why are you here?” he forces himself to remain quiet, afraid that raising his voice could attract attention.

“Like I said, you looked lonely,” you turn onto your shoulder, budding it against the wall to solely stare at Viktor, “I wanted to find solidarity between two Zaunites.”

He shoots you a wary look at that; nobody in Piltover refers to the undercity by that name -it would sling a series of implications the council hasn’t even begun to tackle. Hearing it here, no less, strikes him unpleasantly -- are you being bold or defiant? Is this earnest support of underground independence or are you mocking the Piltover riches that fund his life’s work?

Either way, you’re foolish to declare yourselves Zaunites in the back of this room.

“Sky is also from the undercity,” Viktor jerks his chin toward her, as if you can’t spot her defined curls and moonglasses from where you are.

“I’m not interested in Sky, lovely as she is,” you shrug, “I’m interested in you. I was hoping to see the brain let loose.”

“I don’t get loose.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“So, you’ll die having never gotten ‘loose’.”

“I’ll die having not done lots of things, but I will have been part of Hextech’s creation.”

“That’s all you want to do before you die?”

“I want to give Hextech to the people, anything other than that…” he shakes his head and taps a blunt nail against the glass stem, “I will die in any case.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Dying?”

“Yourself dying.”

“It will happen eventually,” Viktor shrugs, “Probably sooner than others. Heimerdinger says the brighter sparks, they go the fastest,” he lets the sentiment sit a moment before awkwardly flipping it back unto you, “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t think you should ever die.”

“Flattering, but unlikely.”

“Then why do you work like you’ll live forever?” when the only response you get is a single thick eyebrow raise you continue, “Really, you work like a man without time, as if you could just come back into the world after locking yourself away for years. You worry only about the science behind Hextech rather than the humanity in you that wanted you to create it.”

Softly, you cup his shoulder. Regardless of how bold the gesture is he doesn’t find himself wanting you gone.

Perhaps because of the gentle furrow in your brows, your pout accentuated with reddish stains.

“Why don’t you enjoy yourself, Viktor?”

Viktor has so much he needs to do, but nothing as pressing as easing you. He holds his hand over yours, kindly massaging the flat plain across the back of your hand, “I enjoy myself plenty.”

“Alone?” your gaze flicks toward his hand with no subtly, “With only your own hands?”

“Where did that come from?” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter in shock, eyes widening with stained cheeks.

“Nowhere, I suppose. Just curiosity,” you shrug coyly, about as innocent as your prior question wasn’t, “You have no date, after all. And I never see your arm occupied with anything besides your cane.”

“I’m content with my work.”

Unabashedly, almost sneered, you speak without grace for the first time all night, “What a sad way to live.”

“Excuse you?” Viktor scoffs, “Do you not work for the same goal?”

“I’m a person, too.”

“I’m not?”

“Not as you are,” you shake your head, eyes now downtrodden as you finish off the glass in your hand, swallowing without cringe before saying, “If you’re so dedicated to living for Hextech instead of yourself, then I’ll take your drink for you. My only plan tomorrow was to nurse a hangover anyway.”

Viktor instinctually swivels so his drink is out of reach, which is something he cannot explain. Why does he suddenly want it? Why does he suddenly care?

But, more importantly, when did he decide he should never want it- decide that he should never care?

Was it before or after clawing his way into Piltover under Heimerdinger’s wing? Was it before or after Jayce blew up an apartment? Was it before or after Jayce began leaving his side to become a political head?

Or was it everything -- slowly one thing upon the other before he realized he had a carefully alphabetized and numerically categorized library of all the reasons he shouldn’t and couldn’t abandon Hextech. Maybe it’s not advancement now, but the security of a purpose. A goal he’ll die to achieve, and at the rate he’s burning: die before achieving.

Perhaps, one night as a man rather than a scientist wouldn’t hurt?

Viktor gags the champagne in a single swing, startling you to pat his back as he hisses and coughs.

“Viktor! What’re you doing?!” you whisper with all the venom of an outraged mother.

“I’m living,” he shoulders you off and straightens out. Chin jutting with all the dignity of a man who didn’t choke down alcohol at an expensive gala.

“Is that so?” you giggle, silently expecting him to back away, “And does life have you for the whole night? Or just until the party’s over?”

Viktor looks down at his empty glass, then toward yours. Then to the lipstick marring the rim -- it’s smudged at the corner of your lip. It’s darker than the more neutral shade you swipe on before venturing into the lab. Suddenly, his belly is warming and his head is fuzzy -for once nothing but pleasant thoughts consume him. He smiles to one side and clicks your empty flutes,

“I have no plans tomorrow, either, wouldn’t you know?”

“For once.”

Waving away the bitter thought, Viktor leans just that touch closer that sends your sweet perfume up his nose. He feels like maybe he should get another drink and step a little more into your space, if you’ll let him.

“Let’s make the night of it, then?” he’s the one bravely going forward, certain you’ll trail after as he paves toward the bar, “You sounded eager to get me into the world, now what?”

“Oh, Viktor,” you coo, “Don’t ask things like that.”

“Why not?” he’s a little cocky now with some booze in his empty belly, he forgets how unashamed the new assistant is, “Second thoughts?”

“No, I’ll just tell you that I really wanted you in my bed tonight.”

You’re grinning- he’s blushing now, a little surprised and a little delighted. But you just smile that devilish way that always has him distracted.

A new assistant hadn’t been Victor’s idea, and if Jayce had bothered conferring with Viktor at all then you especially wouldn’t have been the hired candidate.

“Or did you intend to die a virgin, as well?” you lull into the shell of his ear, soft and warm lips just grazing clammy flesh.

“You’re forward.”

“Am I? Is it too much?” if not for the slightest concerned twitch in your brow, he could’ve thought maybe you were just laying another harsh tease.

“I find it incredibly attractive,” finally, finally Viktor says the terrible thing out loud. Vivid and bright and all things he is not -temptress! he declared when you two first met.

***

Viktor paused, eyes widening from the doorway and fingers tightening around his cane, “Who are you?”

“The assistant,” you smiled in a way he was sure you meant as warm and welcoming, “Viktor, right?”

How he stared at you, however, told you that maybe you’d bared teeth too sharp. So your lips shut, hands clasping and shoulders straightening. Your name but a whisper into the lab, bouncing off each wall before awkwardly cluttering to the ground. Melting in chunks into the grouts.

“I have an assistant,” he murmured, sights scattered across the area, “Where is Sky?”

“Her day off,” then you groaned, baffled by how confused such a famed brain could get over a truly simple concept, “I can show you my qualifications, if you need to be convinced?”

Your frustration seemed to snap him straight, his jaw unhinged and he flubbed for a nice way to retract himself, “No. No. I’m…” he cleared his throat and glanced away pointedly, “You’re my assistant for today, then?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, perfect,” it was not, in fact, perfect. Viktor dreaded your stay; lingering over his shoulder and invading between his eyes with your perfume. You’re cursed with curves and full lips and fluttery eyelashes.

A temptress!

***

A temptress without trying- or you are trying and you play dirty. Either way…

“I want to see more of your shamelessness, show me how much I’ve missed not living,” he means the last part as a jest, but it seems to make you happy.

…he wants you so bad it makes his gut ache.

You gnaw your bottom lip and nod, “Shall we leave now then? I can certainly make you a drink at home you’d like more anyway.”

Propriety flies out the window.

If Jayce wanted Viktor to enjoy himself, then he damn well would! And he wouldn’t bother with acknowledgments or goodbyes or gratitude, not when your hand tangles with his. Fingers locking with all the familiarity of seasoned lovers, you even add the tiniest swing though sure to not jostle his balance. Peachy streetlights cast the most flattering flushed glow upon you, stray hairs catching gold beneath the beaming bulb. Shining in stressed loops around your head, not like a halo but just… you. Graceful in all the misaligned strands and smudged makeup.

Whether you’re tethered off in a clinical coat with a clipboard perched on one hip or strapped to the finest in this little black number -something you could never pray to pull out of a dump in Zaun.

“I think…” you muse while sliding the front door open, your home smells like vanilla and the space is so precisely spotless he’s not sure you even live here, “I’ll need some help out of this dress.”

Your bedroom is worse off -or would it be better?- not a single article of clothing on the floor, no crumpled notes or mugs of shame decorating the nightstand. Eerily empty until, then, he notices the faint orange flame twinkling over his shoulder.

“Did you leave that burning while you were gone?” he’s too focused on the fire risk of it all that he doesn’t notice you’re stretching out over the bed.

“I figured I wouldn’t be out long,” you prop your head on a fist, the other hand perking onto your cocked hip, “Whether or not I’d be alone when I returned was the only mystery.”

He swivels in place, a humored so that’s why it’s so clean! dying on his lips as soon as he sees you splayed out. Stuttering back and clutching his chest as if scandalized -- as if he didn’t come here for the exact kind of modeling you’re doing. Viktor clears his throat, heat swelling up from the comfortable bubbly in his gut and all up toward his reddening forehead. Brows shooting upward.

Silken sheets caressing your bare skin. Moonlight carding through the askew curtains and layering you in a thin pale gleam. Your hair cascaded down your forearm. And that rouge smudge at the bottom corner of your lip. Tempting.

Viktor lets his cane drift back until it’s slanted against the wall, kneeling onto your bed. Hands trembling as if he’ll sink through and wake in his own sheets. But the feeling of his cold dress buttons beneath his fingertips is real enough; peeling layers from sinewy limbs feels real enough. Nails scrape wrists and hips as he removes his vest, and shirt, and long pants.

“Can I… “ he pauses, swallows, and assesses the curiosity in your eyes. Then, before finishing the question, surges forward -one hand gluing to either of your cheeks, tenderly tilting your face to press his lips to yours. Brows knotting toward the center of his face and cheeks flaming with embarrassment. His lips are incredibly soft, though, and they slot smoothly against yours like gears rolling into one fluid motion. You wonder how familiar that is to him.

Sliding up onto your knees, you tangle your fingers between his and pry his hands from your face. Squeezing him affectionately before using the leverage to lay him onto his back slowly so as to not break the kiss.

Straddling Viktor with both hands still wrapped together, at least until you slip one of his hands onto your chest and the other your thigh. He squeezes, not not affectionately just with something a little… murkier. Hips jump up toward yours -- he sighs, frustrated, and takes it out on your nipple -rolling the bud around his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. Cheeks hollowing around, tongue searing up, bright gold eyes peek over wetly.

You arch your back into his face, lifting off his lap with the encouragement of his spare hand shifting toward your ass. Something soft and thick twitches between your thighs, ripping an earnest gasp from you. Viktor snorts, you feel him smiling into your chest.

not expecting that?

You yank his hair at the base, curling a whine through his throat.

shut up!

Leaky and hot red at the tip, Viktor only thickens toward the base. Maybe just longer than your palm, but certainly fatter than you can hold in one palm. Reaching down just to rut his tip along your slit, both of you huffy messes as you drool down his cock.

Viktor sags back, glaring at you with his ruddy lips -- juicy with raw saliva.

“Enough teasing,” he grunts, trying to force you down with his grip on your hip, “You bring me here just to watch me squirm?”

“I do enjoy the sight,” you mewl softly, swirling his tip around your hole, “Don’t you?”

His head swivels in a very lumpy circle, caught between nodding and shaking before he attempts pushing you down again, “Not as much as I want to be inside you.”

You’re prepared to tease more when he abruptly snaps up while shoving your hips low. His whole face twinges at the sudden movement in his thighs but it’s soon overshadowed by the complete, all-melting mellow of having his cock sucked into velveteen walls. Head thrown back and chestnut hair splintering across the dark headboard -- he grins as you loudly gasp and scramble to grasp his shoulders for purchase.

“Ah- Vik- !” you hiccup, scratching into his shoulder blades.

He hisses, lips curled with utter bliss and eyes fluttering shut, “Feels much better.”

Now both of his hands circle your waist, coaxing your movement with firmly pressed fingers. You pray he leaves bruises.

Viktor chases your warmth every time you squelch off, the most he can manage without an uncomfortable cringe is teeny jumps focused in the pelvis but it’s more than desperate enough. Any concern he could have of you finding his display anything except arousing is tossed out the window as your pace hastens. Leisurely drags rapidly devolving to full bounces, little splatters of your wetness painting up his abdomen. And he fucking thrives on it: sticky and lewd and thick, hearing each thrust hammers him closer to the purest release he’s had in years.

He can’t even pluck grains of thought to discern when the last time he felt so good was- not when you’re canting and wailing.

On a particular grind, you could feel his dick slam into some open-wire spot inside you. White neon sparks crackling so bright your whole body snaps above Viktor while he watches starry-eyed. Bopping that spot impetuously, clinging to frayed energy if it means watching you split apart again. You moan -broken vowels and breathy vik- vi- uh, viktor! vik- vik- vvvv- and shudder, clutching him like you’ll fly off without such an iron hold. Openly tearing up inside you before his eyes are wetting too, and webs of spend sprawl into you.

Viktor greedily snatches you by the neck and wrings you forward, lips spreading until he can lick inside your mouth. Moaning shamelessly into you as he fucks the last of his orgasm out on you.

Left humming, content and pliant, you and Viktor break the sloppy kiss to play more politely. You peck the corner of his mouth, wiping the dazzling threads of spit tying you two by the mouths. Viktor blinks up at you in a haze, smiling aimlessly.

“Happy?” you unceremoniously roll off the man, grimacing as he and everything he buried slide out onto your thigh.

“Very,” he remains slick back on the headboard, moist skin skidding against wood as he slides onto the mattress.

You twist an arm over his waist, chin piking his ribs as you give the most outrageously sweet, “I’m sure you can stay the night, then?”

And as Viktor’s discovered, trying to deny your power over him is useless. Why not indulge just a little more?

“Maybe even for breakfast,” he muses.

tagging those who asked/seemed interested :3

@lpvmal + @im-just-a-simp-le-whore + @littleenglishfangirl + @fortheharbingers + @duffycrow + @zemosbunny + @urmommt + @crocwork-clockodile + @petti-fry + @sparklygreentrash + @marshy-moo

#viktor x reader #viktor smut #arcane smut #arcane x reader

497 notes · View notes

puppywilliams · 3 months ago

Note

could you write about streamer abby 🥺

streamer abby

a/n: i literally love this au so much. i kept thinking about this req so i wrote this quickly even though its 2am °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° sorry if its lazy or it has typos!! lmk if u want more of streamer abby because id rlly love to expand on this au! im so tired so thank you for reading <3

warnings: Could be taken suggestively, size difference.

you have a simple life now that you’re in your early twenties, which is way earlier than you thought you would, but when your wife is loaded from twitch money whos to complain? abby takes care of you, you take care of abby.

she buys you pretty clothes and dainty jewelry. loving to see you spin around for her in a new outfit she had picked out and paid for herself. eyeing you up, asking herself how she got this lucky. if you needed something it was taken care of, if you wanted something, it was yours. sometimes she would buy you gifts just because she wants to treat her gorgeous wife. setting a gift bag down on the table and watching your eyes light up with curiosity.

when abby gets recognized it public it normally doesn’t bother you, it happens so much you expect it at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t watch where someones hand is placed, or how comfortable they immediately get with Your wife. putting you in a sour mood for the rest of the outing. abby watches you sulk the whole way home knowing you’ll get over it.

you often bring her dinner while shes streaming, knocking on her office door waiting until she lifts up one side of her headset and calls out “come in!” you walk in and set her plate on down carefully on her desk

“thank you, baby” she says softly and kisses you on the cheek. her chat floods as normal, not-so-painfully forcing you to sit in abby’s lap looking pretty and talking to her rambling chat while she queues up for her next quick play on overwatch. answering questions, saying hi to people you recognize from other occasions, thanking donators, all while abby mindlessly stares off onto the screen resting her head on your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you. her chats probably more obsessed with you than they are abby, but definitely not more than abby’s obsessed with you.

on some nights its late, and you’re watching a show in your shared bedroom. abby’s “working late” which is essentially her just screaming at the top of her lungs as she streams a horror game for the 5th night in a row. it echos the walls from behind you. it does bother you sometimes when you’re trying to sleep and she wont shut the hell up. but its worth it when she crawls into bed nearly 30 minutes later smothering you in kisses and apologizing for keeping you up. you love it, you’re addicted to it even. you’d let her scream every night until the sunrises for her to talk to you in that sweet raspy voice of hers you keep telling her shes gonna lose if she keeps it up.

she wraps her strong arms around your frame, molding you like putty. lazily kissing your neck. “i know its late…i’m sorry..” she mumbles into your skin so delicately. abby was always so Gentle with you, for a woman who could bench press you, she sure did treat you like you were made glass, like if she hurt you, she Herself would bleed. “‘s kay..” you mumble back to her. she kisses your forehead one last time before closing her eyes. fingers running through your hair as you both fall asleep. it was a routine, a beautiful one you loved. you’d do it all again tomorrow, and thank a higher power that it was possible.

516 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

This is a continuation of the first masterlist. Future Love and Deepspace fics will all be added here

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Request Rules

Tag List Form

Zayne

Damn Him - AO3 - Father!Zayne x Mother!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, angst (at the end), family fic, breasts, Dawnbreaker, swearing

Honey, I'm Home - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: domestic fluff, established relationship, desserts & sweets, sleepiness, kissing, couch cuddles

Public Displays of Affection - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, physical affection

Christmas Surprises - AO3 - Zayne x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Christmas, fluff, domestic fluff, unplanned pregnancy, marriage proposal, crying, literal sleeping together, cuddling, anxiety

All-Nighter - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: pre-relationship, college au, cuddling, literal sleeping together, food, sharing food

Silent Night - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, parenthood, Christmas, cuddling, food, sharing food

Doctor's Orders - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, Christmas, childhood friends, cuddling, crying, not proofread, possibly OOC

Self-Destruction - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, anger, implied/referenced self-harm, self-destructive behavior/tendencies, no real ending

Knitting Hands - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, knitting

When You Forget Things A Lot - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, headcanons

Calling Out - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, a little silly, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, stress

I'll See You In The Morning - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

SMUT Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, kissing, biting, creampie, gentle sex, light teasing, banter, gender neutral smut (no parts described)

Just A Bad Dream - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, nightmares, cuddling, literal sleeping together, forehead kisses

As If In A Dream - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, domestic fluff, children, cooking, kissing, blood, open ending

Intrusion - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, caretaking, pre or early relationship, depression, food, hugging, crying

Warm Hands - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, no dialogue, cuddling, slightly touch-starved Zayne, sleep, scars

Sylus

Puppy - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: swearing, pet names, biting, teasing, fluff

You make me feel like a fool (Waiting for you) - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, light angst, kissing, sleepiness, literal sleeping together, established relationship, cuddling, injury, bruises, soft + kinda clingy Sylus

Kiss-Proof - AO3 - Sylus x implied fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, established relationship, lipstick, implied sexual content at the end

The Calm After The Storm - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, Christmas, alcohol, drinking, kissing, cuddling, some family drama

Sour Candy - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, silly, swearing, candy, food

Worship - AO3 - Sylus x fat!fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of being fat, mentions of a fupa, dresses, teasing, kissing, biting, bruises mentioned, spicy but not full smut

Boss's First Christmas - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, Christmas, cuddling, kissing, glasses

Suffering - AO3 - Sylus x touch-averse!gn!Reader

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, touch aversion, touch starvation, kissing, first kiss

Live Stream - AO3 - Sylus x gn!streamer!Reader

Warnings: fluff, silly, established relationship, video games

Dove - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: pre-relationship, pet names, banter, guns

Beloved - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

SMUT Warnings: soft smut, comfort no hurt, caretaking, pet names, creampie, cockwarming (kinda), cuddling, gentle kisses, gender neutral smut (no parts described)

Sleep Schedule - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, silly, pre-relationship or early relationship

Sweet Mindless Love - AO3 - werewolf!Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: light angst, mild hurt/comfort, fluff, swearing, pet names, werewolf AU, scent stuff, painful transformation with minor descriptions, temporary character death (silly)

Recharge - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, kissing, cuddling, banter, pet names

What's the Whole World - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, cuddling, crying, swearing

Cup Runneth Over - AO3 - Sylus x fem!Reader

SMUT Warnings: smut, established relationship, swearing, creampie, stuffing, size kink, aftercare, praise kink, biting, kissing, licking, begging, overstimulation, explicit consent

It's Nothing - AO3 - Sylus x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: pregnancy scare, menstruation, period fic, anxiety, overthinking, lack of communication, communication, silly, cuddling, kissing, swearing

Insatiable - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Sexual Content Warnings: fluff, established relationship, implied sexual content, banter, sweat, kissing, cuddling, teasing, licking, marking, biting, swearing

I Heart You - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, children, parenthood, silly, kissing, references to Sylus's Mountain Journey and myth

Sleeping In - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, literal sleeping together, implied/partial nudity, kissing, cuddling

I'm Sorry (I Still Love You) - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, no dialogue, established relationship, literal sleeping together, cuddling, arguing

Mud Masks - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, silly, established relationship, kissing, implied height difference, slightly suggestive, banter

Snowcrow - Zayne x Sylus

Being Sick HCs - Part Two - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader x Sylus

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, polyamory, sickfic, cuddling, mention of food

Lay All Your Love On Me - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader & Sylus

Warnings: fluff, silly, jealousy, drunkenness, Sylus being a little shit

The World At Peace - AO3 - Zayne x gn!Reader x Sylus

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, polyamory, cuddling, literal sleeping together

Hostage Situation - AO3 - Zayne x Sylus (x gn!Reader)

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, polyamory, cuddling, kissing, literal sleeping together, pet names, dialogue heavy

Your Majesty - AO3 - Zayne x fem!Reader x Sylus

SMUT Warnings: pwp, smut, polyamory, threesome, royalty AU, kissing, cuddling, cum swallowing, blow jobs, face sitting, hair pulling, anal sex, fingering, oral, 69, light dom/sub, sweat, banter, teasing, biting

If You're Quiet During Sex (Headcanons) - AO3 - Sylus x gn!Reader + Zayne x gn!Reader (separate)

Warnings: sexual content

Rafayel

Artist to Artist - AO3 - Rafayel x gn!illustrator!Reader

Warnings: fluff, silly, clingy Rafayel, cuddling, teasing

Fine Arts - AO3 - Rafayel x gn!graphic designer!Reader

Warnings: pre-relationship, banter, bickering, if this was a full series it would be enemies to lovers

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #zayne #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace zayne #lads sylus #lads zayne #lnds sylus #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader

195 notes · View notes

starboye · 3 months ago

Text

pairing: sam golbach x male reader

request: To start: maybe it was a particular hot, sunny day in a “ghost town”, leaving Sam’s (very nice might I say) body all sweaty and ahem ahem musky. His boyfriend’s a semi-popular streamer who had joined as one of their many guests, and on his streaming side of their tour, he (reader) had gotten a lot of flirty comments. Sooooo naturally Sam, upon them returning to their hotel, fucks the daylight out of him. Bonus if they’re engaged and Sam’s kissing his neck and back saying he’s his and only his (extra bonus if he stuffs his undies in his mouth or something (extra extra bonus if he cums so hard into his boyfie his belly bulges, but he doesn’t pull out all night))

warnings: smut, rough sex, sweat kink, possessive sam, choking, underwear used as gag, cursing, hickeys

after a little adventure with your boyfriend sam and his buddy colby, exploring an abandoned ghost town on a hot summer day was pretty good especially when you got to see sam lift his shirt to wipe his face and got to see those hot abs, and god did he smell amazing, the sweat made you want him more and more.

you being a popular streamer and all, had streamed the whole thing and during the live stream you got lots of flirty comments saying you were so hot and fine and looked so good in that outfit and for twenty points guess who ended up seeing those flirty comments on the way back to the hotel and got jealous of these desperate men flirting with you, if you guessed sam golbach you would be... correct (be sure to gain your of an ass pic with the host).

once getting to your room sam was quick to pull you into a kiss and strip off your clothes, throwing you onto the bed and pinning your hands down, his cock nudging at your hole more and more as his kisses on your neck became deeper and more possessive "i saw those comments on your live stream" he admits while moving one hand to lather some saliva on your puckering hole.

"c'mon you know i would never fuck my fans" you try to calm him but it falls on deaf ears, your words starting to annoy sam a little so he shoves his underwear into your mouth as a sort of gag, your nose getting filled with the scent of sams' sour smelling balls after a whole day in the hot sun, he soon shoves his cock into your hole and gets to fucking you, making you his absolute bitch and reminding you who owns this hole.

sams' lips pecked at your neck, leaving hickeys in the way to further remind you of who you belong to "fuck sam" you whine out while sam snapped his hips into your ass harder and harder until your whole ass was starting to feel numb "who do you belong to" sam pulls his underwear out of your mouth and asks placing his hand on your neck, squeezing it slightly "you daddy" you answer, your voice sort of wheezing as his grip tightens.

"and who is the only one who can fuck you" he asks again "you daddy only you can fuck me right, no other mans' dick is the same" you moan out feeling your body shake as you cum all over your abdomen "good boy but im not done with you yet" he growls lifting you up and sitting on the bed before sitting you back on his cock.

bouncing you up and down on his shaft, he kissed the back of your neck and you could hear him mumbling "mine all fucking mine" and being the insatiable boyfriend you are you stroke his ego "yes sam all yours im all yours forever" making him bounce you up and down on him harder and a little faster until he dumped his loud in you.

keeping you going to ride out his high, heavy breaths fanning the back of your neck, you begin to lift up but sam pulls you back down on his now hardening cock "oh were not done yet, better tighten that ass because you got a rough night ahead of you" he whispers in your ear, well let's hope you don't get kicked out like last time.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

#sam golbach #sam golbach x male reader #sam golbach x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #gay smut #x male smut #x male #gay #male reader #bottom male reader #sam golbach smut #sam and colby #sam golbach x y/n #sam golbach x you

222 notes · View notes

hollandsfavbabe · 18 days ago

Text

Wonderstruck

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis: in which peter wants to liz to homecoming and not you … or so you assume

warnings: single use of y/n (shout out to the old me), villainized liz, dramatic teenager moments, descriptions of physical injuries, very happy ending!

word count: 4.9k

masterlist

I'm back! Starting off 2025 by clearing out my drafts including this beauty that is heavily inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Thanks for being so patient. It’s kind of bad because I’m so rusty, but practice makes perfect! To everyone who had sent me a request, I promise I am getting to them/ already started! Right now I'm adjusting to a lot of changes in my personal life, but everything is starting to get easier so I hope I can post more often. Love you guys 💜

The air was cold as you stepped out from your rented limo and onto the yellow stripped concrete of Midtown’s parking lot. It was quiet where you stood as the limo pulled away. If you hadn’t been able to see the flashing multicolored disco lights from inside the school building, you never would’ve known there was a dance at all. Maybe it wasn’t too late. You could have a terrible cold as far as your friends knew, all it would take is a quick apology text. If you ran fast enough, you could be out of sight and back home within the hour. You sighed as your spool heels carried you towards the door, arches aching. Stupid high heels. You wish your dad had let you wear your Converse or at least stopped hovering over you for even a second. You could’ve snuck them if he hadn’t been so smothering.

You picked up the sides of your pastry shaped purple dress as you walked to the back door of your school. Low vibrations tingled your hand as you reached for the handle, courtesy of the blaring 80s ballad inside. The melody greeted you as you stepped inside.

People were dancing and laughing all around the gym which was adorned by bright party streamers. It was quite the festive prom, one that you would’ve enjoyed under different circumstances. But as you neared the middle of the gym, the sight you feared most was suddenly dancing right in front of you, a painful reminder of why you didn’t want to be there in the first place. Your best friend, Peter Parker, and his smug chosen date: Liz Allen.

The news broke only days before the date of the dance. You had been hoping Peter would ask you to the dance, seeing as you two were close as close as could be and your mutual friend, Ned, had constantly assured you each moment you were alone that Peter had to feel the same. And you trusted him for there was no one in the whole of Midtown Tech who knew Peter better than Ned. They were the best of friends, how could he be wrong.

“You know how he is,” he would say. “He’s probably just waiting for the right moment. There’s no way he isn’t totally in love with you.”

Three days ago you might have agreed that waiting was indeed worth it. In your daydreams he would ask you during your weekly study dates, some of the only moments where it was just the two of you at his place. Your delusion had grown so strong that when Ned informed you that he had asked someone else last minute, you almost didn’t believe it at first.

“Good one,” you had laughed, only for your amusement to turn sour as you realized that Ned was in fact not joking. As if it couldn't get any worse, you felt sick when he revealed the name of the girl who stole away the only boy you would ever want for the rest of time. Of course it had to be Liz.

It wasn’t her attraction to Peter that made you dislike Liz Allen, or her intelligence, or even how flawless she managed to look when all you could muster up was piled leggings and crewnecks. You couldn’t stand how she treated you, lording her popularity over you like it was a key to the city. She got everything she wanted, popular friends that would help her throw parties at her huge house whenever her perfect, loving parents weren’t around and rumor had it, she was most well known for the things that she does on the mattress. And now she had Peter, even after countless years of teasing and enabling his bullies, she still managed to keep him wrapped around her finger and bind him under her curse. After all she had done to him, how could she steal your happy ending? The wicked witch had stolen your prince.

The sight of them together, standing huddled as one, stung worse than the loss of a good friend, sure to be burned in the back of your mind for all eternity. You knew you would be forever haunted by it. You blinked through glassy eyes as you fought the tears that started to well, stiffening as they turned to look at you and Peter’s brown eyed gaze met yours in a solemn greeting.

“Y/n.” he said, taking in the sight of you in your dress. The very same dress you had chosen hoping to wear it on his arm. He didn’t light up like he usually did when you two were together, as the match that ignited the spark between you had been rained out by Liz’s presence. His lips parted slowly as he tried to speak once more. “You look-”

“Y/n!” Liz interrupted, breaking her hold of Peter’s hand to open her arms wide for you. “You made it!” she leaned in for a hug and without anywhere to run, you let her, your hands loosely holding the emerald, jeweled fabric of her perfect homecoming dress.

“Yep,” you affirmed with a strained breath so as to not inhale any of her sickeningly sweet perfume. It lingered even after she stepped back, like a never fading gut feeling that hung around even after the danger had passed. “I thought I’d drop by to say hi.”

“You’re not leaving early are you?” she raised a brow. You could feel the judgment radiating off of her from the way she looked down upon you as her stilettos made her slightly taller. “What about your date? You should at least stay for them.”

You looked over at Peter who remained silent, unwilling to break up whatever Liz had begun between the two of you. It seemed as if he understood for a moment just by the way you looked at him, that he was supposed to be your date. But then he turned his head.

“I don’t have a date.” you admitted, gazing up at Liz with a lifeless stare.

“Oh,” she reared back in smugly, rejoining arms with her precious Peter. “No one asked you? Really?”

“A few people did,” you corrected, trying your best to ignore the pang of jealousy in your gut as you stared down at the homemade corsage on her wrist, undoubtedly constructed by Aunt May. Lilac roses and Baby’s-breath, two of your favorite flowers. “But I turned them all down. I was kind of waiting for someone special to ask me.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Peter tilt his head toward you for a second, but Liz blocked your view of him as she stepped over.

“I’m sure you can find someone here,” she smiled, her perfectly whitened teeth glimmering as she pointed to a boy standing by himself in a corner, but he was exactly the wrong person to match you up with. “Flash is just over there. I think he came with a date, but honestly he’s desperate for an upgrade. He had to beg her to go with him. I’m sure he’d leave her in a heartbeat if you asked.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” you glowered at her, ready to counter anymore of her quick remarks until you felt two pairs of hands pulling you away as each restrained one of your arms. Ned and MJ appeared at your side, bystanders to the whole conversation.

“We’re gonna get some punch.” MJ stated.

“You’re pretty thirsty after your ride right?” Ned asked in your direction, though you could tell his question was more than an explanation of anything as he helped MJ drag you away. “She needs to, uhh, hydrate.”

“No kidding.” MJ remarked humorously, though she never broke from her usual monotone.

“Yeah so we're just going to go over the punch bowl. We’ll be right back.” Ned grimaced, trying his best to gain control of the situation as he and MJ lead you away to a more remote corner of the gym, far away from Peter and Liz and all of the loud hustle and bustle of the dance.

“I can-” Peter tried, reaching out to follow you, but his offer went unheard as Liz quickly shot him down.

“C’mon Peter. Dance with me!”

From across the gym, you sighed as they released you, falling back into the filled up bleachers behind you. You blinked a few times as you still refused to let the tears fall. You really didn’t want to give Liz anymore fuel.

“Are you okay?” Ned asked, noticing the way your face scrunched up as you tried your best not to cry.

“Not really,” your voice broke as you held in a sob. “Of all the girls he could’ve asked. Why did it have to be her?”

“You want me to knock some sense into him?” MJ offered, entirely serious as she clenched a fist.

“No, don’t hurt him.”

MJ settled for a subtle flip of the bird as she raised her clenched fist and pointed her finger in the air in Peter’s direction, though it went unnoticed as he spun around with Liz.

“I just don’t get it,” you exasperated. “She’s always subtly degrading him. What exactly does he think she has that I don’t?”

“Money?” Ned suggested before MJ whacked in square in the chest, forcing a pained whine out of him.

“That was rhetorical.”

“Sorry.” Ned wheezed.

You sighed, looking past your friends to stare at unconventional couple again.

“She is much prettier than me. And she’s good on Decathlon, as much as I hate to admit it. Maybe this is for the best.”

“Stop it.” MJ shook her head.

“Yeah, don’t talk like that,” Ned agreed. “She’s nothing compared to you. Peter’s been wanting you for way longer, I’m sure of it.”

“Then why is he dancing with her?”

“I-” Ned cut himself short, looking down towards the ground. “I don’t know. I was so sure, I swear he was going to ask you.”

“Maybe I should just go, the only reason I came was to see him, but Liz won’t even let me do that. Now that she's got him, she’ll never let him go.”

“No, you deserve to be here just as much as she does. Don’t let her win…”

“Ned,” MJ warned, sending him a warning look. “She’s miserable here. If she wants to go, let her go.”

As much as she herself wanted you to stay, she understood what it was like to be in your position and she couldn’t want you to be tortured anymore.

“Come check on you later?” MJ offered.

“No that’s okay,” you declined. “I just want to be alone. I’ll see you guys at school on Monday.”

When you arrived home, you weren't sure how to break it to your father that you had retired from the dance so early so you snuck up to your room using the service elevator.

Tony Stark hadn’t put virtually any effort into getting ready for his own dances. His routine was always the same as a teen. He’d put on a nice outfit and maybe a tie if he was feeling really fancy and go dance with his buddies for about five minutes before moving to the parking lot to break open a new bottle of whatever he could steal from his parent’s liquor cabinet.

But when it was time for you, his only daughter, to attend your first Homecoming? He didn’t spare any expense (as long as you didn’t protest).

You had your dress picked out weeks before, custom-made from some international designer brand that owed your father a favor, flown in from Milan along with your matching shoes. He’d spent hours researching the right products and equipment needed to fix up the perfect hairstyle (which was executed flawlessly). And even when he failed to figure out how to do your makeup, he enlisted Pepper who made you look more exquisite than a Vogue model.

You didn’t want him to think all his hard work had been for nothing and Stark Tower was so big that if you memorized the layout and avoided the outdated surveillance systems (Tony didn’t see a point in updating them with the recent construction of the compound), you could move anywhere undetected.

You knew he had scheduled the moving team for tonight specifically because you would be gone so it wouldn’t be suspicious if the service elevator was in use and your room was an easy distance away, just down the hall and around a corner.

When you arrived, the weight of your decision started to feel heavier by the second.

Even though none of your classmates would ever know that Tony Stark was your father (besides Peter of course since he was your best friend), now no one would get to see all the work out into your night.

You slid off your heels, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of your deep purple dress or wipe off your face. All you could do was flip on your bed and turn on a mindless movie channel to quiet the screaming voices in your head. All your thoughts echoed his name. You would never understand why he chose her. The lingering question kept you up.

Hours later, you were wiping the snot and tears off your face with the back of your hand and turning off your television. You wouldn’t have watched the ‘mindless’ channel if you had known they were showing Dead Poets Society and you definitely wouldn’t have watched Dead Poets Society if you had known how tragic it was. Now you were a miserable mess of ruined mascara.

At least it had distracted you from your own problems, enough that you had stopped checking Liz’s Instagram story for snippets of Peter. Even when you did check, her page hadn’t been updated since you left the dance, which was more confusing than the EPR Paradox. Liz loved nothing more than rubbing her success in the face of all of her followers and dangling Peter in front of you like a carrot to a donkey.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your window, slow and uniform and so concise that you wouldn’t have heard it had you been asleep.

You shrieked from the sudden noise that contrasted the melancholy quiet of your room. Carefully, you rose from your bed and peered out your window, surveying the thick glass pane with the utmost caution.

You pulled back your curtains, expecting to find some sort of bird or other city creature that you would have to scare off, only to reveal the face of the boy who broke your heart only a few hours prior. Peter Parker crouched on the rackety stairwell outside your window and beamed like a drunk man when he saw your face. Though hesitant, you reached for the latch locking your window and pushed it open wide enough to stick your head through, cold wind kissing your damp face.

“Peter? What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” Peter smiled, his voice shaky and out of breath as if he had just ran an entire marathon to get to your floor. “I had to see you.”

“How did you even get out there? We don’t have a fire escape!”

“Yeah I know. And your building is like 3,000 floors up.” he chuckled lightly, though you were having a hard time finding the humor of the situation.

“What are you talking about? How did you-”

You stopped when you noticed the circle of purple surrounding his left eye. And then his split lips that were still dripping blood. Then several dirty, shallow cuts all over his face and neck. So clear and prevalent, you were shocked you hadn’t noticed them when you first saw him. Perhaps it was the shock that he was there at all.

“Oh my god, what the hell happened to you?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I want to talk to you about…”

That’s when you noticed the biggest change of them all. Peter’s classy suit you had last seen him in was a long time, now replaced by a red sweat shirt and blue sweat pants that were all too familiar. Suddenly, it all clicked into place. Why he was all beaten up, exhausted, and easily hoisting himself up thousands of feet above busy New York streets.

“Holy shit, Peter!” you exclaimed as you came to your senses. He had to get out of the cold. “You-you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter nodded, his smile fading as his injuries caught up to him.

“Yeah and it’d be really nice to get out of the cold now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh shit, yeah. Here-”

You reached to pull him in by his biceps, helping him through the opening of your window and into your room. He leaned against the wall once he was finally safe inside, sliding down to the floor. The metal squealed as you shut your window to cut off the cold and hurried over to turn the lights on as before you had been lonely in the dark. Peter’s dirt ridden face went wry as they flickered on.

“Oh, are you okay?!” you cried as you hurried back over to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter assured you. “Just bruised is all. And … I might’ve broken, uh, a couple ribs….”

“Oh Peter,” you frowned. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Throwing one of his sturdy arms over your shoulder, you helped him cross your room to the connecting bathroom. You set him down to sit on the rim of the tub while you pulled out anything you had from the sink vanity that could help him.

“I don’t have much, most of the first aid is in my dad’s bathroom.” you explained, running warm water over a washcloth.

You kneeled before him, your dress bulging around you like the underside of a blooming purple rose.

Peter’s coffee eyes bore into yours and you reached out a hand to his cheek. He winced when you brushed a thumb over his black eye and once more when you held the wet cloth up to his temple with your other hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “It’s gonna sting a little.”

You started off slow, gently wiping up all of the dirt and debris from his cuts in soothing strokes. Peter seemed to adjust as his breathing slowed and the pained expression on his face faded into tranquility. He looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. But you knew better. He was no longer yours to hold.

“How did this even happen?” you asked out of curiosity and a need to be distracted from your thoughts.

“I fought the Vulture. Took him down, finally.”

“The Vulture…” you repeated, having heard the name before from eavesdropping on your father. It all made sense now why Spider-Man was the only hero he refused to talk to you about. He was always up for answering all your queries on the other Avengers, be it the Black Widow’s childhood or Captain America’s most recent cultural slip up (common for the man from another time). But whenever you wanted to know anything about Spider-Man, even if you were sure it wouldn't compromise his anonymity, Tony Stark was radio silent. The habit annoyed you as Spider-Man was the only hero you ever wanted to know something about.

“I’ve been fighting him for weeks -” Peter paused as you cleaned up one of his ugliest cuts, grimacing before diving back into his explanation. “- he runs this crazy illegal weapons business.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I’ve heard my dad talk about him. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this whole Spider-Man thing.”

“Yeah, sorry I sprung it on you like this. I really meant to tell you.”

“It’s okay. It makes sense.” you assured him, though the energy between you was off.

Normally when you two were together, it was as if everything about you both moved in sync. You were so similar with nearly the same interests and motivations, revolving around each other like stars before a solar nebula. But now you felt like the two of you had finally crashed together, wrecking havoc upon each other and it hurt to see him knowing he was in love with someone else.

“Have you been crying?” Peter asked, noticing the streaks of dark mascara that stretched across your plump cheeks.

You rose from your position on the tiled floor and returned to the sink to rinse all of the collected dirt from your washcloth and wash away some of the product from your face.

“It’s just been a rough night,” you tried, hoping he would drop the subject. “I’m glad you got to have fun at the dance though. Before your big fight.”

You awaited his confirmation, but instead of affirming your worst nightmare, Peter’s reply sparked a glimmer of hope.

“Actually, I didn’t really get to enjoy it much either. I left right after you did,” he admitted.

Your fingers worked carefully as you thought of a reply, delicately unscrewing the cap to the only ointment you kept in your bathroom and squeezing a pinkie sized dollop onto the back of your hand.

“I thought you asked Liz.” you kneeled before Peter once again and smoothed the ointment onto the worst of his cuts.

“I did,” Peter asserted, his face softening under your touch. “But only because I was too scared to ask my first choice.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks under the makeup that caked them as you felt the first semblance of a smile you’d had in days.

“Your first choice?”

Though you had been avoiding his pitiful gaze, you felt a sudden braveness to meet it now.

He nodded.

“I’ve wanted to ask you since they announced the theme.”

“Student council decided on making it the 80s months ago.” you unpuzzled aloud.

“I know.”

Shocked, you rose suddenly as your heart beat wildly as if to escape from its cavity. How was it that all your wildest dreams were coming true on the worst night of your life. You were having a hard time believing him, but Peter had never lied to you before. Why would he now?

Peter wanted to meet you where you were, but as he tried to stand, something twisted in his broken chest and he sank back down in anguish, clutching his abdomen.

“Oh Peter,” you fussed, quick to return to his side. “I should really take you to a hospital.”

“No, no hospitals,” he refused. Bringing his injuries to the attention of professionals was too dangerous. Too many people would ask questions he couldn’t answer. “I’ll be okay with some ice. I heal fast.”

“At least let me take a look then, so we know what we’re dealing with.” you urged.

Peter unzipped his hoodie at your request and you aided him as he struggled to get the thick fabric off his arms. Mud stained and discarded to the side of the tub, you suddenly became very aware of the fact that you had never seen Peter in any kind of naked capacity once he was before you with a bare chest. It would’ve made it easier if he wasn’t a superhero and hiding the immaculate tapestry of musculature beneath his flannels and plain t-shirts. But he was, and now you were fighting to narrow your gaze on the dark bruises on the left side of his lower rib cage instead of taking in the whole view. You failed.

“It hurts the most here,” Peter pointed to the purple swirls of skin that were far too large for him to be so calm about it. He made no mention of your ogling, if he had even noticed at all.

You snapped back into caretaker mode, searching every drawer and cabinet for something that could work.

“I don’t have any actual ice, but I think I have - oh where is it?” you searched frantically. “Aha! Found it.”

You pulled a plastic circle of brightly colored water from the depths of one of your drawers, an adequate size to cover up the worst portion of Peter’s bruise. You knocked it against the nearest counter too, watching as the liquid inside froze instantaneously.

“Here, this should help with the swelling.” you stated, gently covering Peter’s bruise with the ice pack. He shivered when the cold made contact with his bare skin, but after some time to adjust, the pain was clearly relieved.

“Thanks,” he smiled, reaching a hand up to take over your job of holding the pack. “I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Anytime,” you promised, and if what he said was true, perhaps Peter Parker would be around a lot more often. “But maybe you shouldn’t make a habit of fighting off giant metal birds.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. He’s the Fed’s problem now.”

There was a beat of silence as you took a seat beside Peter and the sight of your dress reminded you of the impending question that stuck in your throat. Only this time, there was no interruption to stop it from coming out.

“Why didn’t you ask me to the dance?”

“God, it sounds so stupid now,” Peter cringed. “I want to say it was mostly because I wasn’t sure how you would respond, but in all honesty, I was scared of your dad.”

“I thought you liked him.” you questioned, recalling the bewildered look on Peter’s face when he found out your father was Tony Stark. Back then you assumed he had been a fan, but now you surmised it was much deeper.

“I do, so much. But after the ferry incident, I couldn’t risk screwing up again.”

From the bits and pieces you had overheard about Spider-Man from your dad, you already knew much about the split ferry. Though no one got hurt, you knew your father still fumed when thinking about it.

“Oh,” you realized, connecting all the pieces like shards of a broken vase fusing back into one. For the first time since you found out about Liz, you started to feel whole again. Whole and so stupid for ever doubting Peter. And it was all thanks to the dramatic antics of your father. “Oh, I’m gonna kill him.”

Peter shared your amusement, giggling quieter than normal so as to not upset his broken ribs. A comforting silence followed and you were no longer hesitant as you returned his lingering gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter confessed. “I thought I was protecting our friendship, but when I saw you at the dance, looking so gorgeous in your dress, I knew I was wrong. It’s so stupid now, but I didn’t want to risk losing what we already have. I see now how wrong I was and how I almost lost the very person I need the most.”

“You really mean that?” you questioned, touched by his honesty.

“I do.”

Peter always stared at you as if you were the most beautiful person to ever walk the face of the Earth and the occasion was no different. Even with tear stained cheeks and a wrinkled purple dress, you could still see the same affection in his expression. You were exactly who he wanted.

He muttered your name, reaching a hand over to grasp one of yours. “I like you so much. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am that I made you think any differently.”

Squeezing his hand, you shifted closer to him.

“I like you too.”

Peter leaned into you, his hand fluttering to cup your cheek as his thumb traced the line curve of your bottom lip.

“Can I-” he whispered, sweet enough to ask for your permission. However, you had been waiting on this day for years and you couldn’t waste another minute. So you brought your lips to his.

Slow and soft, the kiss didn’t last too long. You were forced to stop before it grew too intense on a count of Peter’s poor ribs.

“Wanna sleep over?” you offered, unwilling to let Peter go in such condition and for your own reasons.

“Will your dad even let me?”

“He doesn’t have to know…” you grinned. “- besides, I’ve been so depressed the past few days that he’ll pretty much let me do whatever I want. I could kill someone and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“I hope I can fix it all.” Peter’s regret shone through his voice. His apologies weren’t sufficient and you could tell he would carry this guilt for another decade or so. But he didn’t need to. You two had figured it out after all.

“I already feel a million times better because of you.”

You helped Peter into a set of clean clothes, a shirt he’d left behind once when the two of you went swimming and some shorts you stole from your dad’s closet (though you didn’t let Peter know that to ease his conscience).

Once you were in your own pajamas, the two of you huddled together under the warmth of your duvet, wrapped up in each other.

“This is so nice,” Peter mumbled groggily into your skin, his face close to yours and his eyes nearly shut. You gave a hum of agreement, too comfortable to let any real reply out. Peter’s arms around you seemed to have that effect. “I was so wrong before. I’d much prefer to deal with your dad’s temper over Liz’s any day if it meant getting to hold you again. Tony’s temper is much more manageable than the Vulture.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, jumping up from his comfort.

Peter groaned, reaching a hand for his bruised ribs as he started to retreat mentioning it at all. He forgot you weren’t used to his Spidery habits yet.

“Peter, you can’t just say things like that and not explain.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” he moaned.

“Nope.”

#tom holland x you #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider man #spider man homecoming #enchanted #marvel

126 notes · View notes