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loves-alibi · 3 days ago

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changes

or: you married a butcher, not a martyr.

MDNI simon "ghost" riley x f!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of torture, reader is hashtag depressed, mentions of death (assumed death), simon is a weirdo at the end <3

*****

He’s a butcher, an apprentice actually. Every Monday through Saturday, regulars flock to the shop, where Simon, the gentle giant behind the counter, takes their order with a smile. Kids love him, always excited to see the man who tells droll jokes when their mothers, who are more interested in the way he winks at them after throwing in an extra quarter of a pound of meat, aren’t listening.

Simon is the talk of the block. Every nosy soul wants to know his deal. It’s not like he came out of nowhere. Simon was born and raised on the streets of Manchester, but there’s an intrigue about the young man that was never tapped into until he took up working at that shop, chopping and slicing up people’s dinners while asking 'how's the family?’.

So it’s no surprise when one day an old lady, a regular at the establishment, asks Simon, elbow-deep in raw lamb, if he’s single.

After breaking the news that he wouldn’t like to make a habit of dating customers, she explains that her granddaughter (“She’s about your age and– you’ll see –she’s the prettiest girl in all of England.”) is in town.

Before he even thinks, the woman scribbles on her receipt for three lamb chops an address and 8pm.

Eight hours later he stands outside of her house, a bouquet of flowers in hand and the receipt folded neatly in his back pocket. Before he has the chance to ring the bell, the door flies open, bombarding Simon with the scent of roasting meat and floral perfume. Standing barely at his chest height is the woman from the shop. She calls a name, and round the corner comes her granddaughter.

Simon almost drops the bouquet in his hands. Your grandmother really didn’t lie about how lovely you are. Even as you abscond her (“You didn’t tell me he was actually coming tonight!”) Simon can’t stop staring at you.

Dinner goes by as awkwardly as you could have expected. Your grandmother sits at the head of the table, you and Simon at opposite sides, kicking each other awkwardly each time either of you crossed or uncrossed your legs. She prompts you two with conversation starters.

Darling, tell him about your job.

Simon, I hear you have a brother.

It’s like pulling teeth. The whole night Simon is kicking himself for not meeting you elsewhere, where he could make a real and good impression without watching eyes. It’s over, he thinks when you finally pull the plug on the evening, dismissing Simon with the excuse that you have to work early the next morning. It’s a shame, he really thought that, despite everything, you two had a connection. There were enough fleeting glances and shy smiles from you for Simon to really believe.

You at least have the decency to walk him to the door, thanking him for entertaining your grandmother and for being such polite company. And, with a glance over your shoulder confirming that the coast is clear, you pull Simon in by the lapels for a kiss, it’s chaste and quick, but has Simon’s chest heaving up and down.

“There’s a pub down the street, you know it?” You ask. Simon nods his head dumbly, his lips still tingling. “She goes to sleep early. Meet me there in an hour, yeah?”

He practically skips to the pub. He orders two pints and waits and why did he order you a pint? It'll be warm by the time you get here and he doesn’t even know if you like beer. This was such a bad idea, you’re probably not even going to–

Fifty-two minutes later you walk through the door, chest heaving and hair tousled. You ran. You really ran to see him.

As you down your pint, he sends a silent thank you to whoever answered his prayers because– wow –you’re here and even more beautiful than he could imagine, with a bead of beer slipping out of the corner of your mouth and dripping down your neck.

The next morning, you two wake up naked in Simon’s bed with headaches and a ring on your finger– his nan’s ring to be precise, the one she explicitly told him to give only to the girl. There’s a voice in the back of his head that says he should be mad to have given it away in a drunken stupor to some girl he just met. But then you laugh, saying, “I’m engaged.” And he laughs with you, a sinking feeling telling him that drunk Simon may have gotten it right.

Simon watches you observe the ring glitter in the morning sun. “Do you want to be?”

You scrunch your nose at the question. “Depends,” you say, dragging out the final ‘s’. Simon blanches. “What’s your last name?” You ask, scrutinizing him.

Simon loses his breath as he stares into your eyes. You’re laying naked, halfway on top of him, and yet it’s the way you look at him that makes his world tilt. He barely manages to stutter out, “R–Riley. Simon Riley.”

“Riley… Mrs. Riley.” Your features soften. “Yeah, I think I want to be.”

In three months, you’re married. It’s a real, proper wedding with both sides of the family there. Simon washes the sinew and blood from his hands and gets all dressed up. He’d pick his bloody apron over a suit any day, but the smile on your face when you see him down the aisle is enough to make getting all dolled up worth it.

Your grandmother dies a happy woman shortly after your wedding. She leaves you the house and well wishes for your future (and with the request to name her future great-grandchildren after her).

Marriage suits Simon. He leaves you for work each morning before the sun is up. You wake hours later to a cold bed yet a warm cup of coffee in the kitchen. He comes home at five o’clock on the dot with a pound of meat cut and ready to cook, which he does. It fills some caveman-basal part of him– the ability to provide for his wife, melting away his worries every time you sigh in delight at the taste of the meal he oh so lovingly set out for you.

Three days after your first anniversary, Simon comes home with a pamphlet. Her Royal Majesty's Armed Service. You laugh, tell him there’s no way he wants to enlist. He almost believes you, sounding so sure in your words. Maybe he is being ridiculous, but then he turns on the news and sees the chaos of the world and realizes that chopping meat wasn’t all he was meant for.

He sits you down again. This time you don’t laugh.

“You will not make me a widow, you understand?”

“Of course not.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, love.”

He enlists, joins the infantry, and you wonder if you made a mistake marrying that man. Then 30 weeks later, he comes back and you almost forget the heartache until he’s standing right in front of you, this time without a pound of meat and the smell of blood clinging to his skin.

He fucks you. You fuck him. It’s only natural after so long. He’s missed you. You’ve missed him. And you have plenty of frustration to get out.

It’s when you’re laying in bed, fingers trailing his abs– yes, abs, born out of the weeks of grueling work– that it strikes you how much this means for you. You squeeze what used to be the loving layer of pudge that circled his waist.

“You like it?” he asks, his smirk pressing against your head.

But the energy to lie doesn’t exist in you. You tell him no, that you miss the Simon that walked out of your door thirty weeks ago, that– sure –abs are nice but you liked the Simon with a little fat, that you didn’t want him to do this, that you didn’t want to have to waste away, alone and worrying about him.

Yelling ensues. You cry. Simon cries. You sleep in the guest room. Simon sleeps on the couch.

He’s a good soldier, you learn. Not from him of course, Simon’s too humble to brag about his achievements like that (plus, he’s afraid that his growing accolades would just remind you how you never wanted to marry a decorated soldier, you wanted to marry him). You always come to base to pick him up from deployments. Soldiers give you respectful nods and tell you how good of a sergeant your husband is.

You and Simon had a distinct separation between work and life. As soon as your car is through the base gates, not a word is spoken of his deployments. It always gets you in too much of a fit. So it was agreed upon: you didn’t have to hear about it.

Until one day, work shows up to your front door step. Simon’s on a deployment, and you’re finally unwinding after a long day of your own. As you begin to pour a glass of wine, there’s a clinical knock on the door.

Two men in uniform are on your porch. They hold their hats in their hands, as with solemn voices they try to explain it all to you. It’s strange– you don’t cry. They ask if you need anything and you simply say no. After all, what could they give you– Simon? You have a chuckle at that after you finally send the soldiers off.

You continue your normal routine: finish that second glass of wine, tidy up the house, and cook dinner. You burn your thumb on the cast iron pot. With your finger in your mouth to soothe the burn, you think to dial your grandmother’s number. If anybody needs to know about Simon, it’s her. Except, when you dial her number all you get is a robotic voice explaining that the number you are trying to reach is not available.

Oh, you realize, that’s right– nan’s dead!

You lose it on the kitchen floor. Your sobs are so loud, the neighbors come to check on you. They find you right there on the kitchen floor, dinner burning on the stove, and paperwork from the army on the counter.

People treat you like a widow after that. You don’t consider yourself one. It just doesn’t feel right. He left without a goodbye, and now you’re supposed to accept that he’s gone?

You’re a celebrity around town– poor Simon’s widow. You quit your job, the widow’s pension being enough to get you by for now. Simon’s old boss starts giving you cuts for free– not even the shitty ones. You get filet mignons from him, aged wines from neighbors, extra pastries from the bakery, and pitying stares from strangers.

In three years you went from a complete stranger to Simon Riley’s widow. Three years and that man tore your life apart. The six month mark is approaching. It’s funny, really. That’s twice the time it took for you two to get hitched.

There isn’t even a body to bury, only a plain gravestone with his name and dates. You don’t visit it. There’s no point. What’s there to mourn? Instead you dig a hole in your back garden. It isn’t very deep, and the garden’s long dead. You don’t dare touch the shovel, it had been Simon’s– used when you needed a hole dug for flowers or bushes. Instead the hole is dug with your bare hands, like a dog searching for something.

In the pathetic pit in that dead garden, you put your ring– the one Simon gave you, that his nan gave him –wrapped in his apron.

The backyard burial doesn’t make you feel better. It just puts dirt under your nails that won’t wash away no matter how hard you scrub at it.

You consider selling the house. That leads to another breakdown. You were supposed to raise your kids there– Simon’s kids. Nan wanted you and Simon to have that house. Now nan’s gone. Simon’s gone. But for some reason you’re left to wander the ruins.

Six months finally comes. People stopped giving you free shit by month three. It’s not like you ever wanted their gifts. It’d come to you with a smile and some bullshit about how we get it or we’re here for you. You laugh at the notion when you wake up on the six month anniversary of your fucking husband’s death alone and…

It’s not the anniversary. Not the real one, at least. It’s only been six months since those men showed up at your door, like the grim reaper dressed up for Queen Elizabeth. He had to have died some time before then.

You don’t even know when your husband died.

It has to be on the paperwork they gave you. Six months after however many days since your husband’s death, you tear apart your house. Every drawer is pulled out, every cabinet yanked open in the hopes that you can find the paperwork that has Simon RIley’s death date.

Not on the pension form.

Not on the letter from the crown.

Not on the invitation to the fucking widow’s club.

When the hell did he die?

You fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, surrounded by every piece of paperwork you could locate. It’s still dark when you wake up, mind clouded with exhaustion. You almost fall back asleep right there on the floor, but when you let your head fall back down on the hardwood, you feel rhythmic vibrations travel through the wood to your cheek. Footsteps.

“Love?”

Only one man has ever called you that.

It’s like you lose the ability to speak. Any thought you could have dies on your tongue as two familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into a lap. He holds you on the floor, lets you cry it out until the sun comes up.

The first words to come out of your mouth: “You said you wouldn’t make me a widow.”

He holds you tighter, “And I didn’t.”

Simon doesn’t tell you what happened. All you know is that he had been taken, tortured, and somehow rescued.

He looks different. He’s gots lots of scars now. They bother him, he covers up in long shirts and pants more often than not, no matter how much you tell him he doesn’t need to. He says that he doesn’t want to worry you with them.

It’s not the scars that worry you. Simon’s different. Whatever happened to him back there had made him needy. He doesn’t let you out of his sight. At night, you’re adhered to his side by an impossibly strong grip. He whispers in his sleep, don’t leave me, as though you could possibly escape his iron grip. Maybe needy isn’t the right word. Obsessive, more like.

He digs the ring up just like you did– all bare hands and fury. You don’t know how he found it– you never told him. You just wake up one morning to him pawing furiously at the ground. He pulls it out and presents it to you like a cat with a dead mouse. He puts the ring on your finger before even rinsing the dirt off.

In bed he consumes you. Where once sex was fun and playful, it now is a ritual, like Simon is claiming you. It’s enjoyable, yes, but overwhelming. You don’t think he blinks anymore. It’s like he’s worried you’re going to be ripped away from him, like every time is the last time.

Two months after he comes home, papers arrive for him in the mail. He’s being deployed again. You’re worried. It’s too soon. You can’t lose him again, and you tell him as much.

Simon placates your worries with a kiss on the head. As he pulls you into a hug, he utters, “Love, I crawled out of the grave for you once. You best bet I’ll do it again.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s lying.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic

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koishua · 2 days ago

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ㅤ ㅤ 𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ 𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ ㅤ 𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ ㅤ 𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space.

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey.

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth.

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.”

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house.

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

#skz x reader #skz fluff #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz hyunjin #hyunjin comfort

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thef1diary · 2 days ago

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“the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on” from your dirtbag daniel blurb 👀 can you write something to expand on this idea? anything goes really, I know you’ll come up with something good

— nonnieeee this idea 🥵 he would love to tease you (and make you cum) while his friends are around. 18+ content below

The dining table buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses, but the sound barely registered over the pounding of your pulse. You were perched in Daniel’s lap, your thighs spread just enough to take him deep, his cock buried inside you. It had been his idea to share a chair—he’d laughed it off, telling the crowd it was charming—but you knew the truth. He knew you weren’t wearing panties so he swiftly took his cock out as your seat for the night.

Now, his fingers toyed lazily with the hem of your dress, brushing over your skin as if nothing at all was amiss. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a low, teasing drawl meant for your ears alone. “Sitting all pretty with my cock inside you, like the dirty girl you are.”

Your nails dug into the edge of the table, knuckles white, as you tried to stay still. Every subtle shift of your hips sent sparks shooting through your body, and Daniel wasn’t making it any easier. His hand slipped beneath the fabric, fingers trailing higher until he found where you were stretched tight around him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You’re so wet. You’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”

The wet sounds were audible now, slick and obscene beneath the table, and your cheeks burned with humiliation. You bit down hard on your lip to keep quiet, but Daniel wasn’t about to let you off that easy.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Grind on me,” he instructed, his tone calm and commanding. “Slow, like you’re just getting comfortable.”

Your breath hitched, your thighs trembling as you obeyed, shifting your weight ever so slightly. The movement dragged his cock against that perfect spot inside you, and you had to choke back a whimper.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice dark and silky. “Don’t stop now. Make yourself feel good.”

Your hips rolled in tiny circles, each movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible—almost. The wet slide of your arousal made it harder to disguise, and you swore the hum of conversation around the table faltered for a moment.

Daniel’s lips brushed your temple, a mockery of tenderness. “You’re so close to getting caught,” he murmured. “One wrong move and they’ll all see you like this—spread open on my cock, making a fucking mess of yourself.”

Your head turned sharply, panic flashing in your eyes, but Daniel only smirked. His hand moved lower, his fingers finding your clit and pinching it lightly. The sensation was too much, too sharp, and a strangled moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Conversation at the table came to a halt, heads turning in your direction.

“You okay?” one of his friends asked, brows furrowing in concern.

“She’s fine,” Daniel said smoothly, his hand never leaving you. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning, but you couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Especially not with Daniel’s fingers still rubbing slow, devastating circles over your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

He leaned in again, his voice a low growl. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Right here, in front of all my friends.”

You shook your head desperately, but your body betrayed you, hips jerking against his hand as your orgasm barreled toward you.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, his tone dripping with mockery. “I don’t mind if they see. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

The pressure inside you snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you with a force that stole your breath. A loud, uncontrollable moan tore from your throat, and this time, there was no hiding it.

“Daniel,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a confession.

The table fell silent. Every pair of eyes was on you now, their expressions shifting from confusion to dawning realization.

Daniel’s grin was smug as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand smoothing over your back. “Good girl,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear.

You buried your face in his shoulder, humiliation burning hot in your chest as the aftershocks of your release left you trembling. But Daniel wasn’t done.

He shifted slightly, his cock still hard inside you, and whispered, “Time to get up now, sweetheart.”

Your head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he interrupted, his grin widening. “I want them to see the mess you’ve made. Feel it drip down your thighs when you stand up, let them hear it.”

Your heart pounded as he shifted his chair back slightly, his hands guiding you to your feet. And as you moved, the unmistakable wet sound of your release sliding down your thighs filled the silent room.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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kurogane2512 · 2 days ago

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Did Vautour's event and interrogation in one sitting cause I'm a simp and I love her so much now 😭 This is inspired from that massage supervision incident with her😩

18+ CONTENT

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Vautour Bleu x fem!reader (Chief)

Type: Fluff and smut (Spoilers for Vautour's real name and backstory)

Vautour Bleu, a mysterious and enigmatic new Sinner you had recently allied with. Her reputation as a merchant was spread all around in the WhiteSands as a shrewd woman who’d leave no scraps and would always benefit from a deal. Eventually, you ended up making a deal with her as well, a deal that involved her offering herself to be your Sinner willingly while you promised her a future for the people beyond DisCity. Although, you let her continue her business with her caravan, she was still required to abide by some regulations as a Sinner which caused her to come to the bureau every now and then.

Today was one of those days when she was called in for some checkups and had a psychological consultation scheduled. Despite her having a fairly friendly demeanour, she still harboured some deep trauma that shaped her to be known as the ‘blue vulture’ she is today. You decided to personally attend her session today in hopes of knowing her better and helping her as needed. She was secretive about her past and deflected all the questions thrown at her, barely giving any information about herself. You had expected this, you still didn’t even know Vautour Bleu properly, there was no way you could know her past self so easily.

However, as the session continued, you noticed traces of fatigue and tiredness in her expression and eyes. You had come to recognize she was quite laid-back, but her mind was always active. This looked like genuine tiredness that you’d normally not see on her and became worried if something was wrong.

“Vautour, are you not feeling well today?”

Vautour seemed taken aback by your question and the way you gestured at her face.

“Really? What makes you say so?”

“You have got dark circles under your eyes and are constantly moving your neck. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

A trace of a smirk adorned her lips, her voice letting out a hum.

“Hmm, paying close attention to me, aren’t you?~”

You blushed for a moment and cleared your throat, “O-Of course, you are my Sinner, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

Vautour smiled faintly then tilted her head while pondering.

“Now that you mention it, I did sleep in a weird position last night. My neck and shoulders are rather stiff.”

“Oh, was the bed or pillow not comfortable? I’m sorry, I’ll have them changed immediately.”

She let out a chuckle, “No need to trouble yourself with such trivialities. The facilities were fine, I’m just getting used to sleeping in a new place. I’m not going to be sleeping in every day so it’s no point going that far.”

“It’s no trouble, I don’t want any of my Sinners to be uncomfortable.”

“Hehe, how kind you are to your Sinners, little Chief~”

She rested her head on her arm that was draped across the chair, gazing at you with a smile.

“W-Well, anyways. It seems a massage would be a good therapy for you today. If you don’t mind, I can give you a massage.”

“Oh? That sounds wonderful. It’d be my pleasure~”

You walked behind her and waited as she removed her blue coat, bringing her upper back and shoulders to view. You felt warmth on your face looking at her fair and smooth skin as she parted her thick and fluffy blonde hair to the side.

“I’m ready, little Chief~”

You snapped out of you trance and came closer to place your hands on her shoulders.

“Where does it pain the most?”

“Hmm.... just there, a little below....” she instructed as you dragged your hands to where she wanted, “Yes, right here....”

You began by applying gentle pressure at first, carefully finding the knots.

“Is this alright?”

Vautour let out a pleasured hum, “....Yes, you can go harder.”

“Okay....”

You pressed down with your thumbs near her shoulder blades, making her arch in response with a sweet sigh.

“Oh, that was good.... Yes.... just like that~”

Her voice almost sounded like a moan, instantly making you flustered but you kept your composure and continued massaging her. Your fingers traced in circular motions over her upper back while your thumb clenched in and out, making a rhythmic pattern to ease out her muscles. She tilted her neck as you came up to massage near her nape, again letting out the same kind of relaxed hums that could easily be misinterpreted. You wondered if she was doing this intentionally, or if the massage was really just that good.

“Hmm.... more in this spot....” she brought her hand to hold yours and guided you to the centre of her back, “Do it just like before, that felt perfect~”

“Y-Yes, as you say....”

Vautour gazed into the distance as her eyes became hazy, enjoying the sensations. You understood her relaxed state and decided to ask her a bit about herself, hoping to earn some answers now.

“So, your real name is Madeleine, right?”

She remained silent for a moment and contemplated her answer then decided to reply truthfully.

“Madeleine Noailles..... Hehe, it’s been more than a decade since I heard it.”

“Noailles.... I have never heard of that family name in DisCity. You lived very far away, didn’t you?”

“Mhm, on the opposite end of WhiteSands. I lived with my family- my parents and brother- and a team of kind and helpful servants.”

This was the first time you heard her speak of having a family, she had said she was alone. You wanted to know more about her family but weren’t sure if it was the right time.

“I see.... What made you become a travelling merchant in the WhiteSands?”

Vautour again remained silent and contemplated her answer.

“When disasters strike, even the noblest are forced to dirty their hands to survive.”

Of course, she answered it cryptically. It was a standard answer most outlanders in the WhiteSands would give. You waited in hopes for her to say more but she became silent and you decided to stop probing for now, patience was the key with her.

“Hmm, you are quite skilled at massaging, Chief~”

“I wouldn’t say skilled. I just spend a lot of time at my desk so I have learned some key techniques to work out the knots myself.”

You withdrew your tired hands after a while. Vautour rolled her neck and shoulders slightly before standing up to wear her coat.

“Thank you, that was wonderfully relaxing~”

“You are welcome. We can end our session for today, I look forward to our next meeting.”

You raised your arm forward in a handshake position. Her soft hand joined with yours in agreement before she traced her fingers up your arm and walked near your ear to whisper.

“Next time you need a massage, you can let me return the favour. I’d be more than happy to be of service, dear Chief~”

Her voice came in a hush, warm breath tickling your ear and making you flustered. You merely nodded at her proposition then watched her leave, your thoughts still stuck on the lingering sensations of her soft skin. You took a deep breath then wrapped up your things from the room and went back to your office. A few days passed without Vautour Bleu’s visit; her next session was scheduled for after 10 days. You continued keeping in touch with her through letters as promised and were glad to see her doing fine with her caravan, even sending more refuges your way to take care of.

It was one ordinary night when you were staying up late in your office doing paperwork as usual. The end of the month was approaching and you had to finalize the reports of all your work done in the past month, which had been quite a handful due to the incident with Desir. You leaned back on your chair for a moment and stretched out your arms, rolling your neck and shoulders and pressing down on some spots. You suddenly remembered that day with Vautour when you had given her a massage and she promised to return the favour, now would have been a good time if she was around.

A sudden knock was heard on your door followed by a familiar figure walking in, “Working till late, little Chief?~”

It felt like a miracle that Vautour Bleu was here just when you thought about her.

“Vautour? What are you doing here? Your next session is in a week....”

Vautour closed the door and walked inside, “I felt like staying for the time being, until the next session. Work has been going well lately, the caravan can handle without me for some time.”

“I see, it’s good to have you then. Your room is intact, I’ll send the cleaning staff right away to give it a polish. You can wait here till then.”

Vautour nodded with a smile and took a huff from her pipe as you informed the cleaners. She looked at the way you tilted your neck and stretched your arms, a smirk drawing up her lips.

“Need a massage, Chief? I gather you have been working for quite some time.”

“A-Ah, you are right, I have to complete many reports for this month.”

Vautour smiled wider and walked closer to you, “Seems I came at the perfect time then. Let me return the favour as promised.”

You were hesitant to agree, “I-It’s okay, you don’t have to really do it. I appreciate the thought....”

She extended her hand to hold yours, slowly intertwining your fingers together.

“I insist. I don’t like owing favours to others. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to receive service once in a while, would it?~”

You knew she wouldn’t let it go and decided to agree.

“Alright, thank you. Uh, I think we should sit on the sofa, it would be easier for you.”

Vautour nodded and kept down her pipe at your desk then followed you towards the sofa.

“You should remove your shirt; direct pressure will be more effective.” Vautour suggested.

“Uh, okay....”

You turned away from her and unbuttoned your grey shirt, leaving your black undershirt on. Vautour was about to suggest taking off the undershirt as well but held back her words for now. You sat on one corner of the sofa sideways and waited as she took her seat behind you. You suddenly became shy of her presence as she placed her hands on your back, gently gripping your shoulders.

“Uh, just around the neck area and top of the shoulders....”

She dragged her hands to where you instructed and started applying pressure, trying to feel up your tense muscles but your undershirt was making her hands slip and be unable to feel you properly.

“Remove this as well, I can’t determine the right pressure.”

You were reluctant to considering you’d left in just your bra, and didn’t want her to see your bare skin.

“Uh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do it too hard....”

“I won’t be satisfied if it’s not done right.”

She continued insisting, making it difficult for you to deny. Her face came closer and you could feel her breathe against your skin as she whispered, “Just relax, you don’t have to worry about anything with me~”

You pursed your lips then finally agreed. She helped you pull up the undershirt from your back and intently watched your naked body come in view, but the sight was a little surprising. There were some scars and faded wounds, mostly around your upper back and one near the waist. She realized this was perhaps why you were hesitant to show yourself, but to her it didn’t matter a bit. If anything, she became more impressed by you. She had come to understand you were different than the other officials, but this further proved how hard you worked to fight Mania and protect your Sinners.

She didn’t speak a word and placed her hands on the same spots again. Just when she was about to start, you hissed and recoiled in surprise.

“Sorry, your rings felt cold....”

“Oh, my apologies. Let me remove them, they will hurt you anyways.”

She took off her rings and kept them on the table in front then placed her hands on your back again, starting to rub and apply pressure. Her gaze lingered over each scar, noticing their intricate patterns while her hands didn’t stop massaging. Your skin was rougher than she anticipated, quite a contrast to her own soft and clear skin despite travelling in the barren and scorching WhiteSands so much. As she moved lower to your shoulder blades, she couldn’t help but trace a finger over the scar there and earned a shiver of surprise from you.

“V-Vautour?”

“Relax, I was merely curious~”

She continued her massage, now rubbing your shoulder blades and pressing down on certain spots with her thumbs. You let out a hiss as she focused on some hard knots, arching your back slightly from her touch. The reaction was amusing to her, but she held back her teasing for now.

“....Were you expecting something different?” the question left your mouth before you knew it, you weren’t sure why you asked that.

Vautour Bleu simply hummed, “Whatever do you mean, little Chief?~”

“The scars.... did they surprise you?”

Her hands stopped for massaging for a second before she moved them down near your waist, you also felt her lean close, so much so that her warm breath brushed past your ear.

“Perhaps, a little. But, just to assure you, I don’t find them unsightly. I know you are different from the officials at the Outland Affairs Bureau, even the FAC- that’s the reason I even proposed the deal. I suppose I still underestimated you a little.... can you blame me for that?~”

“No, it’s okay.... You aren’t the first one to be surprised. I guess I appear like someone who just sits behind a desk all day, haha~” you feigned a laugh to lighten the atmosphere but Vautour didn’t buy it. She parted your hair to the side and pressed herself to your body, placing her head near the crook of your neck and resting her face on your shoulder.

“That’s not the case. I have done my research on you now; I know all the work you have done for DisCity. It’s my own preconceptions that are a little difficult to break....”

Her hushed voice flew past your ear, sending more shivers down your body. Her hands slowly wrapped around your waist and she placed a kiss behind your ear, earning a startle from you.

“Would you like to know the real reason I came to stay here tonight?”

You didn’t expect her to bring this up but were equally curious to know hence nodded.

“I have always travelled in the WhiteSands with my caravan, staying in makeshift homes before Desir came along. In no time, I made it my hideaway and a place to call home. Whenever my wings would get tired, I’d fly to Desir. After it’s fall, I was once again on the road all the time, drifting in the endless sands. Then you took me as your Sinner and gave me a place here. It is far less luxurious than my abode in Desir, but there is a strange sense of homely comfort here. I have not stayed for long, yet I find myself yearning to come back. After all, even a vulture needs a nest to fly to at the end of the day.”

She spoke in a whisper, making her words come out in a gentle and soft tone.

“Who would have guessed a bird would find solace in a cage?~”

You were surprised by her confession, perhaps she was much simpler to understand than you thought.

“....I’m glad that you see the bureau that way, you are always welcome to come here.”

She smiled and planted more kisses along your neck, “You are exceptional, little Chief. I have confidence that you will uphold our deal and not disappoint me. And these scars? Beautiful, they show your resilience. Never see it any other way. Now, shall we continue the massage? I can feel you are still very stiff in some places~”

You nodded, “Thank you, it felt nice to hear that....”

Vautour smirked to herself then placed her hands on your back like before, pressing down on the stiff spots and massaging them. Her soft hands massaged in a magical manner, draining all stiffness and fatigue from your muscles. You sighed in relief at some places, making her intrigued. She suddenly pressed down on your shoulder blade, earning a strangled moan from you.

“Ngh-!~”

Oh, how she loved that sound.

She found out your sensitive spots quickly, intentionally pressing on them harder than usual to make you moan and whimper.

“Aaahn-! Vautour, a bit softer, please....”

She smiled, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. This will relieve you~”

She slyly leaned closer to your back, making sure you wouldn’t feel her presence. You merely felt her breath brush past your ear and didn’t think much of it. Her finger again traced over a scar near the middle before she wrapped her hand around your nape and massaged it, your head automatically arching into her palm.

“Aaah.... yes, that part pains a lot....” you muttered in breathy moans.

“Very stiff your body is....” her voice suddenly drew close to your ear, and you finally realized how close she was sitting. Her clothed breasts pressed on your back and her lips touched your ear, warm breath tingling it.

“Why don’t you delegate some work to other staff? You have an Adjutant, don’t you?”

“Nightingale already handles many things, most of this work can only be done by me....”

“Hmm, I see~” she hummed in a low voice.

She moved her hands down to your lower back and made gentle circles on your waist.

“Do you plan to work more after this?”

“Mhm, likely for an hour.”

As you spoke that, you felt her hands wrap around your waist again, but this time her fingers traced teasing patterns on your abdomen right above the waistline of your pants as if suggesting something.

“Why don’t I help you loosen up in another way then?~”

“W-What? Are you suggesting what I think you are....?”

Vautour smirked and rested her face on your shoulder, drawing her lips near your cheek.

“And what are you thinking? Do tell me, my little Chief~”

Her fingers kept teasing over your belly, tracing some of the scars and daring to go lower.

“N-Nothing, I’m fine now. Thank you for the massage, I’ll continue my work-!

“Shh~” she hushed in your ear before dragging her lips to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“You still look quite tense. Let me help you, ma chèrie~”

“Vautour.... mmh.... you don’t have to....”

Your gaze lowered to where her hands were, watching them rub up and down on your stomach while her slender, long fingers teasingly slipped under your pants occasionally.

“I want to. I have been so intrigued by you since the day we met in Desir, how I have longed to see you in this state~”

She continued whispering in your ear in a low voice, your body shivering from the sensations. You could barely resist her touch every time, it felt like she had cast some spell on you with just her presence. How could you deny this moment?

“....If the great Ms Vautour Bleu is so eager to offer her services, then who am I to refuse?~” you tried to tease back, not wanting to appear too pliable in her hold.

“Hehe, we’ll see who’s the eager one here, little Chief~”

Her fingers wasted no time to unbutton your pants, effortlessly opening them in a single tug. Her left arm wrapped around your torso to keep you in place, your body automatically leaning back at her and she seemed to welcome it. Her right hand now slipped beneath your pants, rubbing your core over your underwear.

“Oh, what do we have here? Seems you have been anticipating this with how wet you are~” she husked, feeling amused at your arousal.

“No, t-this is....” you tried to counter back, but had no excuse.

“Shh, don’t make things hard for yourself. I know what you have wanted since that day~” she lightly bit your ear, eliciting a whine from you.

You expected her to make you wait more and continue teasing you, but she already began slipping her hand in your underwear and softly caressed your folds.

“My, so wet for me already? I haven’t even touched you properly, ma chèrie. Was it the massage that made you this way, hm?~

“N-No, not the massage....mmh~”

She pulled you a little closer to herself, now making you rest on her body completely. Her slender fingers made their way over your vulva, simply touching here and there with soft motions as if caressing a delicate flower. It reminded you of the way she used to tend to the datura in her balcony, careful and lovingly. Her thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, not giving you too much pleasure at once in order to extend the time. Her index finger now made its way over to your hole, slipping in just the tip as if to test you.

“Look, how tight you are around here.... Already clenching me when I haven’t even gone deep~”

Your eyes lowered as if on command, looking at the way her slim and long finger touched you everywhere yet nowhere at once. It was exactly her way of doing things, be it business negotiations or simple conversations. She parted your folds with her index and ring finger then finally inserted her middle finger inside, producing a squelching sound as your walls accommodated her. Your head threw back with a moan on her shoulder as she went deeper, giving her the chance to lick up your neck in response.

“That’s it.... let’s ease this tightness, shall we?~” she whispered against your skin.

Her movements were slow and calculated as she took her time to explore you inside, the tip of her finger caressing every crevice of you. She gracefully traced your walls, teasing along the spots where you gave unique reactions, but not giving them any more attention than normal. You simply yielded to her deliberately slow touch submissively, taking deep breaths to hold your composure. Vautour intently noted your every reaction, her finger consistently exploring to find your most sensitive spots all the while edging you closer to release.

“Aaah.... Vautour.... C-Could you....” you tried to tell her to finally touch you more, to do it where you want it the most but were reluctant to beg.

“Hmm, what’s that, my little Chief? Care to repeat it?~” of course, she knew what you wanted, but she was intent on making you say it.

“C-Could you.... ngh.... move t-there....haaah~”

She smirked to herself and leaned near your face, pressing her cheek to yours.

“Could you be more specific? I’m afraid your directions aren’t clear right now~”

You bit your lower lip, desperately holding back from saying what she wanted to hear.

“You know I can bring you anywhere in the world, so why don’t you help us both and make it clear where you want me?~”

If her touch wasn’t already making you overwhelmed, her hushed voice flying so close to your ear would certainly do the trick. The combined effect of them was ethereal on you. Vautour expected you to give in long ago, but she was ready to play this dance with you for as long as you wanted. Perhaps she felt excited herself, to find someone keeping up with her.

“A-Ah.... fuck.... you know what I m-mean.... mmh~”

“Tsk tsk, such crude language doesn’t suit you, ma chèrie~”

She licked up your ear again then bit it with her lips, earning a startled whimper from you. Her left hand that was patiently holding you now started travelling up to your breasts, teasing your nipples through your bra. You held your lower lip in your teeth tighter, threatening to draw blood but she didn’t let you as she swiftly held your jaw and pulled it to the side to kiss you. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sensation of her soft, plump lips on yours.

“Oh? My, you just clenched me even tighter. Hehe, was the kiss so stimulating? I merely did it to save your delicate lips~”

You looked into each other’s eyes before lowering your gaze to her tempting heart-shaped lips, passion burned inside her with the urge to take you and she kissed you once again. A smoky taste travelled in your mouth before being replaced by a sweet, cherry-like flavour. Her tongue licked up your lower lip and easily parted it to enter your mouth, dancing your tongues together in slow and intimate movements. At the same time, she didn’t forget to stimulate your insides with her finger. You didn’t realize when she slipped in a second finger, easily pushing it through and touching more places.

You moaned into the kiss from the sudden sensation of 2 fingers inside you, almost feeling a little stuffed with how tight it became. Vautour parted her lips to let you breathe, knowing she was going to make you breathless soon. Her left hand went back to touching your breasts, now slipping past the bra and lightly gripping your nipple with her fingertips. She suddenly increased the pace of her fingers buried inside you, scissoring them to touch all your sensitive spots at once. You gasped louder, tilting your head back and eyes rolling to the ends.

“Is this where you wanted me? Are you finally ready to reveal yourself, little Chief?~”

“Y-Yes.... please.... more.... r-right there!~”

You ended up begging her despite trying hard to resist, but it was no point in being stubborn. Vautour had the patience to play this game for long, you were the one on the losing end. The softness of her fingers grazing your sensitive spot was tantalizing, and her fingertips pressing as deep as they could- burying to the hilt- was mind wrecking. Your mind became hazy as you edged closer to release, chasing that sweet pleasure with her.

“Hmm.... close, aren’t you? Do you really think I’ll let you off so easily?~”

“Hng...! T-Time is essential to a merchant.... aahn.... you have more m-matters to attend to after this.... don’t you.... mmh!~”

“Hehe, while you are correct in that, you have missed one important detail in this exchange....”

She paused and came near your ear to whisper in her low, hushed voice, “When it comes to you..... I have all the time in the world, ma chèrie~”

Her words caused you to become tighter, practically clenching her fingers in a vice grip and making it difficult for her to move. She chuckled at the way your body reacted to her, finding it enjoyable how easy to bend you were yet showed strong willpower.

“Oh, seems like you want to keep me here for longer as well. I don’t mind, we have all night to spend. I can assist you with your work tomorrow, dear Chief~”

“N-No.... aaah.... that’s not what I.... mmh.... m-meant~”

“Then you should clarify.... make me understand what you want~”

She moved her fingers awfully slow now, denying the pleasure you wanted. Your body arched off as you tried to seek friction, rutting your hips into her hand to make her touch where you wanted. Vautour’s eyes hooded at your desperation, her cruel façade breaking as she felt you didn’t deserve this reprieve.

“Helping yourselves now? You know it would be so much easier if you just give in and ask for my help~”

She was right, you couldn’t continue this for long. Your vision was becoming cloudier by the minute, heart racing faster at every bump of her fingers against your insides.

“P-Please.... Vautour.... touch me more.... I need you!~”

A victorious smirk adorned her lips seeing you finally accept it. She tilted your head back and pressed her lips to yours while beginning to thrust her fingers in and out at a consistent pace. You moaned into the kiss before letting go with a gasp and whining, coming closer to release.

“That’s it, little Chief.... Cum for me, show me how you come undone~”

She kissed your cheek and down your neck as you arched up, rutting along with her fingers and grazing all the right spots.

“Yes, ma chèrie.... you are close, aren’t you? Do it.... cum for me, make a mess on my fingers~”

She encouraged you further, feeling aroused from your state. She wanted to see the sight badly; watch you crumble in her hold. You body jerked up with a loud moan when you finally released, the knot in your stomach snapping. Your essence pooled around her fingers as she kept them inside for a while, relishing the warmth of your walls and essence. She finally pulled them out with a squelch, watching as it dripped down her fingers before gazing at your defeated state.

“How delightful.... You are truly one of a kind, little Chief~”

She praised before leaning down to kiss you gently. She pulled out the handkerchief in your pants’ pocket and wiped her hand while you sat up and composed yourself, buttoning up your pants and wearing your shirts.

“Thank you, that felt really good....” you said shyly with a blush.

Vautour leaned in and placed the used handkerchief in your shirt’s pocket then gently gripped your shoulder, her face merely inches away.

“If you truly want to thank me then.... return the favour someday, dear Chief~”

You blushed more but nodded, “I promise, any time you want....”

She softly smiled then pecked your lips and stood up, putting on her blue coat again and picking up her pipe then making her way out of your office. She turned to look back at you one last time when she reached the door and saw you looking at her as well, your eyes locked in. With a simple tilt of her head and wave of her pipe, she bid farewell to you.

“Keep in touch, little Chief~” were her parting words.

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere smut #path to nowhere x reader #vautour bleu #vautour bleu x reader #ptn #ptn smut #ptn x reader

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bunny-lovers · 7 hours ago

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Imagine your f/o showing you more nontraditional and quieter forms of affection:

Imagine them cutting fruit for you to snack on and leaving it by you without a word. making you little things—such as origami or doodles and giving them to you. Bringing you things they know you like and things they find interesting, like pretty rocks and hand picked wild flowers. Taking photos of you while you aren’t looking and admiring them in private. They take notice of the simple things you enjoy and sneak you gifts while you aren’t looking, getting you bookmarks and keychains and other things around your interests. They may not be able to say they love you, be it from shyness, nerves, a sense of shame/”this is too corny”, or some other reason, but they will show you in so many little ways.

Imagine them placing a hand on your shoulder. Pointing out a mistake with your hair and fixing it before you can do it. Sitting next to you with your skin barely touching or perhaps not even touching at all. focusing solely on you and you alone—because you are the only thing of importance to them. always hovering around and unable, or perhaps not daring, to touch you for longer than a moment. They may not be able to hug and kiss you, be it from shyness, nerves, a sense of shame/insecurity, but they will still find other, quieter ways, to show you affection.

Imagine them alone thinking about your laughs, the things you find amusing and delightful, the brightness of your smile, how badly they wanted to kiss and hold and tell you how much they love you and feeling so overwhelmed with unspoken love and barely shown affection for you that builds up with nowhere to go.

imagine them hiding doodles they made of you in a sketchbook/diary/notes app. Seeing things in stores they know you’ll like and wanting to buy it for you. Looking in the mirror disheveled and gripping the sink wondering how they fell so hard for you.

Imagine them listening to you rambling and “I love you” forms in the back of their throat but nothing comes out. Imagine them needing you to know, needing to show you, just how much they care and finding little ways to do so that is comfortable for them.

They may not be loud and open about their feelings, but your f/o loves you all the same.

proship/darkship/neutral DNI

#f/o imagines #f/o imagine #imagine your f/o #imagine your fictional other #self shipping #self shipping community #self ship community #selfship community #safeshipping #safeship #self ship imagine #self ship blog #imagine your self ship #f/o scenarios #safeship community #long post #long post cw #Pikes don't look

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lunajay33 · 2 days ago

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Fated

•🪵🦅🍂🤎•

Summary: You grew up being bestfriends with Sam and Dean as your mother would usually help hunt with their dad, but when you find yourselves at college together things change, especially when Dean takes him back hunting

Pairing: Sam Winchester x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

•Masterlist•

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had a die hard crush on Sam, whenever our parents would hunt together they’d leave the three of us in a motel room while they worked a case, it was hard not to fall for Sam he was always so kind and treated me like gold, then eventually we started going to college together both of us were outcasted by our families for doing so, we moved in together for support as we worked in our dreams

Along the way we both confessed

“Sam I know this is your place too but I don’t want you being girls home anymore”

“Why not? Are you jealous?”

“So what if I am, I can’t bare to see you with someone else Sam can’t you see how much I love you?”

And from then on we’ve been attached at the him, any chance he got his hands were placed on me lovingly, as I finished getting ready for bed I pulled on one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, quickly going to our room and jumping in next to him as I cuddle up close

“I love you Angel” he whispered as he placed a kiss to my check squeezing me closer

“And I love you, now let’s get to bed I’ve been feeling groggy all day

He shut off the lamp and he curled around me till I was completely enveloped by him, hearing the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep

•

I woke abruptly at the sound of a crash from downstairs, Sam awake next to me hearing the same thing

We both got our weapons and slowly made our way downstairs, covering each other incase this wasn’t just a plan human invader

Out of nowhere Sam is tackled to the floor and I’m stood there frozen, having been out of the hunting game so long I was actually scared now, before I heard a familiar laugh

“Dean what the hell are you doing here?” Sam groaned as he got up and stood back next to me holding me to his chest obviously noticing my fear

“If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes, missed you around Angel” Dean smirked looking me up and down

“Dean come on”

“Fine, dads missing, he’s been gone for a while now and won’t answer any calls”

“I can’t Dean I’ve got a life here now, I’ve got school and y/n, I can’t just leave”

“She can come too” he said as if I wasn’t even here

“It’s not just dad, it’s your parents too, they went out together” I look up at Sam worried, even if they kicked us out they were still family

“Sam…….” I whisper as he squeezes my hips

“What about school Angel?”

“It’s study break we can spare the week” he sighed in agreement and nodded at Dean, we go upstairs and pack

“I don’t you going” he says

“But I can help it’s my parents too”

“I know but I don’t want to risk your life”

“But…….i don’t wanna be alone” I confessed my fears of being on my own since I’ve always had someone around especially knowing what lurks out there

“It’ll only be a week and I’ll be right back I promise” I knew I couldn’t convince him other wise

“Okay but……call me and please be safe Sam”

“Always am” he kissed me goodbye before him and Dean were gone, the familiar sound of the Chevy impala rumbling away

•

The week went by fast and I was so excited for him to come back, there was a weird feeling around our place and I couldn’t shake it

I pick up the phone and call hoping he’ll be on the other end saying he’s right around the corner

“Hello angel” his voice was higher than usual

“Hey everything okay? Are you coming back now?”

“About that ummm….we couldn’t find them but we got a lead we’re gonna follow it”

“But sam we’ve got school and I don’t feel right, I’m scared”

“What’s a little huntress like yourself got to be scared of” Dean chimed in

“I don’t know something doesn’t feel right, it’s been weird weather lately and I feel sick, I probably sound crazy” I felt like I was going insane

“You’re not crazy, remember last time you got the stomach flu you felt the same, maybe you just have to get some rest”

“Please don’t be gone much longer I love you Sam”

“I love you too”

•

He was gone a lot longer than we both thought, it’s been 4 months now and the calls got less frequent and I felt less important and soon after he left I found out the reason I was feeling sick was because I’m pregnant, I went to the doctors and they said I was about 2 months along, now I’m 6 months, and I’m a ball of stress I didn’t have the guts to tell him over the phone how could I when we barely talked and when we did it was quick just to check up before he had to go

I sat on the couch feeling like my life was flipped upside down so quick, why did Dean have to come back, sure he was great but he took the one thing I loved away, I hear a knock at the door breaking me from my thoughts

I got up my shirt too small as I only covered half my belly and my pajamas pant low on my hips, I walk over to the door and open it seeing Sam and Dean stood there with their father behind

“You’ve finally decided to come home” I sigh, of course I’m glad he’s okay but he left me for 4 months, I stepped aside as they all came in

They came in, Dean and John plopping down on the couch as Sam stood infront of me, his mouth hung open as he looked down at my round belly

“How…..when….why didn’t you tell me” he asked as his hands caressed my belly

“How could I we’ve barely talked and I can’t just spring that information on you over the phone”

“Sammy’s been having fun at college” Dean laughs then hearing John groan

“I told you I didn’t feel right” I say not being able to resist from running my hands through his hair as he pulls me into a tight hold

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve stayed, I can’t believe we’re having a baby”

“A baby girl” I whisper as I hear him gasp pulling back to look at me

“A girl…..a little girl” his voice shock and it warmed my heart

“Congrats Sammy” Dean smiled as he came over slapping him on the shoulder encouragingly, I’m sure John would come around he was just a grump

“Next time I’m coming with you, I’ll be damned if your leaving me and our baby girl”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

#supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester oneshot #Sam Winchester x pregnant reader #john winchester fluff

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sickeddyville · 3 days ago

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I love you, Im sorry

Pair: zayne x reader

Prompt: you leave to protect him from Astra's curse

Note: this is the part 2 for the 'Guilt' fic, and yes it's still angst 😊. full on angst with a kiss at the end. The title was 100% inspired by gracie abrams i love her sm😞😞

Warning: not a happy ending (again) bcs being a zayne main means eating angst 24/7

Part 1 | Part 3

The plan is simple. Get away from him as far as possible.

As the taxi pulls up to the train station, your heart races. You have to do this, for his sake.

You walk towards the doors of the platform when, out of nowhere, you hear a voice.

"You think I didn’t know what you were planning?"

You freeze.

Zayne stands a few feet away, his eyes stern with a mix of hurt and disbelief. There’s an edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before.

Your breath catches in your throat as you turn to face him, unable to form words. You can only stare, heart pounding, as he steps closer. His gaze doesn’t leave yours.

"I thought I made it clear," he continues, his voice low but trembling with emotion. "You can’t just leave without telling me. Not again."

There’s pain in his voice, raw and real. "You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t know what you were doing?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out. You try to speak, but your throat feels tight. The guilt gnaws at you as you realize just how deep this is cutting him.

"Im doing this for you" you finally manage to whisper, but even then, it feels like the words aren’t enough. "If I stayed away, you will no longer suffer. From me." The words feel wrong, but they spill out anyway.

Zayne steps closer, his face inches from yours now, but you still can't find the strength to say anything. His hands reach for yours, and despite your inability to speak, he gently clasps them, his grip firm yet comforting.

"I don’t care about the curse, All I care about is you." His voice softens, but there's no mistaking the emotion underneath.

"How could you not care about the curse?" you ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

You try to back away from him, but his grip only tightens, pulling you closer. "I can’t just stand there knowing how this will end," you add, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I can’t. If I stay—if I stay, the curse will keep following you. It will never stop."

Zayne’s expression falters for only a moment, but the determination in his eyes doesn’t waver. "Y/N, I don’t care about the curse," he repeats, his voice steady but the emotion evident in his gaze. "Listen. What I care about is you. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not like this."

"You can't just say that, Zayne..." The words leave your mouth in a strangled whisper, full of desperation, and Zayne’s grip tightens on you as if he can keep you from slipping away. His arms pull you in, and suddenly, everything you had been holding back—everything you had been running from—comes rushing forward.

Tears flood your eyes, hot and overwhelming. You can't hold it back anymore. Your sobs are muffled in his chest.

Zayne doesn’t speak, but his hand runs gently through your hair, his touch grounding and soothing. "You’re not hurting me, Y/N," he says softly, though the strain in his voice betrays the emotion he is fighting to keep in check. "I’d never want you to think that. You’re everything to me. And I’ll fight through this, no matter what it takes."

"There is no fighting it, Zayne..." Your voice is barely audible, the words slipping out of you to make him understand the impossibility of what he is trying to do.

"No." His voice was firm, unwavering. "I won’t accept that. I won’t accept losing you, Y/N. I don’t care what happens— We’ll find another way, together."

"We can’t..." The words caught in your throat, heavy with finality, but Zayne was still holding you close, his face inches from yours. He wouldn’t let go, his determination unwavering as he searched your eyes for any sign of hope. But you knew the truth. No matter how much you loved him, no matter how desperately you wished for a different ending, this was the only path that could be walked.

"Y/N..." he whispers, his voice shaking just slightly. "I don't want to lose you. I’m not going anywhere. Please."

"I care for you so much... this is why I’m doing this, Zayne," you say, your voice cracking. You pull back slightly, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. "Please understand."

Zayne is silent for a moment, his hands still resting on your arms. His grip tightens, but there is no anger, only something softer, more broken. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks again.

"How can I understand if you’re pushing me away? It’s killing me." His words sting, but there is no malice in them—just raw emotion, as if the weight of your distance is slowly suffocating him.

"You don’t—understand..." The words catch in your throat, heavy with emotion, and you can barely form the sentence. You pull back slightly to look up at him, your hands trembling as you wipe your eyes.

"I understand you think you’re protecting me," Zayne says gently, his voice low but steady. "But I choose you, no matter what the future holds. I care about you. Don’t shut me out like this."

You shake your head, your chest tightening as if the air has suddenly grown thicker. "You don’t get it, Zayne..."

"No, you don't get it" Zayne says softly, his hand lifting to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "You’re my choice. You always have been. Always will be."

“Final boarding call for train 731 to Solivara City. All passengers please proceed to Platform 12 immediately.”

It was the last call. You had no more time to argue, no more time to pretend you could change fate.

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut against the tears that had been threatening to fall. "I have to go, Zayne." Your voice wavering while forcing a smile.

Zayne stiffened, his hand gripping your arm as he pulled you closer, his voice hoarse with the emotion he was struggling to hold back. "Y/N. Don’t do this. Please..."

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let him follow you into this mess, couldn’t bear the thought of him carrying that burden again.

"I love you, Zayne," you choked out, and before he could respond, you gently pulled away, turning towards the platform.

He stood there, frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief, his heart breaking in silence as you walked away.

The final call to board echoed in the air, but the weight in your chest grew unbearable with every step you took.

But then, just as you reached the entrance to the platform, a hand shot out, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. You froze, your heart pounding as you slowly turned to face him. Zayne was standing there, breathing heavily, his expression desperate.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked. The words he tried to say were lost in a tide of emotions, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was only the sound of your hearts beating in sync, yet miles apart. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the depth of the pain you were trying to avoid, reflected in his gaze.

But this—this wasn't just about him. It was about you, about the curse that had haunted your lives, about everything you were trying to protect him from. You blinked away tears that threatened to spill over, your heart torn between the overwhelming need to be with him and the crushing guilt that had held you captive for so long.

"Please..." Zayne whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t leave me."

The final call for boarding rang out again, but you couldn’t make yourself move. Everything in you screamed to stay, to let him pull you back into his arms, to forget about the curse, about everything you were running from.

But then you remembered—if you stayed, it would be the same story as before. He would suffer again, and you couldn’t bear to watch him sacrifice everything, again.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I’m so sorry, Zayne."

Zayne's face crumpled, his hands trembling as he reached for you, his grip desperate. "Y/N..."

Without a word, you grabbed his face in your hands, pulling him down as you kissed him, fiercely, desperately— You poured all your love, all your regrets, and all your pain into that kiss.

But your heart was made up, and you pulled away, forcing your legs to move, your footsteps the hardest you had ever taken.

As you entered the train, you could still feel his presence. You could still feel his eyes on you. All you could do was shut your eyes, and ignore the ache building up inside your chest.

#zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne angst #lads zayne #lads #lnds zayne #lnds #l&ds #l&ds zayne #angst

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bullet-prooflove · 17 hours ago

Text

The Cult of Wellness: Colter Shaw x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @inlovewithcharmers @mckinleysbones @lou-bubbles @gatefleet

Companion piece to:

Stay (NSFW) - Colter can never ask for you to stay.

The Maybe Girl (NSFW) - Colter makes a mistake by revealing his feelings for you.

Snow - Colter makes a realisation when you end up staying the night in Nebraska.

The Restless One - Colter never sticks around in one place until now.

For six weeks Colter Shaw drops off the face of the earth. The only time anyone hears from him is the weekly call he has set up with Velma so she doesn’t get concerned and send someone looking for him. Even she doesn’t know what he’s up to, just that all jobs are suspended until further notice.

He spends that time outdoors with you, living off the land, bathing in the waterfalls and making love to the sound of the rain as it bounces off the roof of the airstream. This is the kind of future he has always envisioned for the two of you, but right now it’s one that he knows can never last.

You still haven’t told him what drove you here. He picks up hints, enough to conduct his own research and what he finds, it turns his stomach. There’s a wellness centre back in California that’s being investigated by the FBI, it’s had been run by influencer and sociopath Laura Delmore, who preaches that her remedies can cure the illnesses that modern medicine can’t.

The cult of wellness you’d called it, one night when you were cuddled up by the campfire underneath the blanket his mother had lovingly weaved.

The two of you aren’t adverse to natural remedies, you both grew up learning how to utilise the wilderness to cure one’s ailments. It’s the other stuff you’re opposed to, people who are losing their homes, cashing in their belongings for a placebo that is never going to work. Laura Delmore was building her fortune on pain and desperation and Colter thinks you tried to stop it.

He asks Bobby to dig into the files, send him a copy of everything he finds. It takes a couple of hours but he gets the notification on his phone in the late afternoon. You’re out on a trip to town, grabbing a few necessities, coffee, steaks and a couple of books from the local library, so he boots up his computer and starts to go through them.

There’s one name that sticks out and Colter realises why you fell off his radar six months ago. It had nothing to do with your commitment issues. It was because Delmore had killed your sister, the one you escaped the cult with.

Alongside peddling her placebos Delmore, treated mental health issues with ayahuasca, psilocybin and peyote, charging her clients a hefty fee for her tea ceremonies. Your sister Skye had always struggled in the aftermath of the cult and she thought this might be a way to ease her suffering. The ayahuasca ceremony was heralded as a cure for PTSD on social media, a way to escape your demons.

The thing about ayahuasca? It doesn’t react well with anti-depressants, especially not in large doses. It had caused a seizure and instead of calling an ambulance, they’d simply moved Skye to one of the meditations rooms so it wouldn’t upset the other guests at the retreat. When they’d returned hours later they found her cold and unresponsive.

Skye’s death, it broke you.

You’d decided to start your own investigation and that woman, she had seen you coming a mile away. She’d had her lawyers had put together a dossier of relatives in case of an impending lawsuit, she knew exactly who you were and what you did, and of course, she wanted to find out what you knew.

The dosing starts when she offers you a cup of tea in her office. He knows this because Denmore records the interaction, the same way she does with her tea ceremonies and her one to one sessions. Clients are encouraged to purge not only their bodies but their secrets and one can make a lot of money if you know the right buttons to push.

There are three recordings in total, one for each of the days they keep you there and every single one of them is fucking harrowing. The fact that someone has done this to you makes Colter want to commit a murder, an impulse he’s never felt throughout through the duration of his years on this earth.

The only reason they stop is because they accidently overdose you, seeing them carry your limp, unresponsive body out of that room, it devastates him because in that moment he knows just how close he came to losing you.

He manages to piece together the next couple of days from police and hospital reports. You were found in a dumpster by a homeless man, ten miles away from the centre, tossed away like trash. It’s clear to him that they had thought you were dead when they disposed of you. You were just a messy loose end that needed cleaning up.

When you wake up, the first thing you do is call a friend in the FBI and after that all manner of hell rains down on Laura Denmore and her ‘wellness retreat’. He has to stop reading then because he hears your car pulling up outside the Airstream.

He’s quiet as he helps you unpack the groceries, lost in his own thoughts. It’s a miracle to him that you’re even functioning right now, a testament to your strength, your resilience.

It’s after he gets out of the shower that you climb into his lap, you’re wearing that threadbare grey t-shirt of his, the one he keeps especially for you. His arms wrap around you, cradling you close as he buries his face in the curve of your throat.

“You know don’t you?” You whisper, your lips featherlight against his temple. “You know what they did to me.”

His grip on you tightens and you sigh sadly because the bubble you’ve been living in for the past six weeks is broken and it’s time to face reality again.

“They broke me Colter.” You confess into the air between you. “Every single horrible thing that has ever happened to me came flooding back and I don’t know how to heal from that. I can’t seem to figure out how to put myself back together.”

“I’ll help you.” He tells you resolutely, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “You’re not alone, I’m right here with you.”

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chibinasuu · 1 day ago

Text

Kid x Reader ― surprise; present

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw (just a tiiinyy bit suggestive at the end), fluff, GN!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, cw language (it's the kid pirates)

“Oi, Kid!” You shook the sleeping form of your Captain, “Wake the fuck up!”

He groaned in protest, refusing to open his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” You whined, shaking him more violently, “You promised you’d teach me how to ice skate today!”

“Alright, alright!” He finally conceded, throwing aside his blanket and reluctantly getting up, “Just shut up and let me get ready in peace.”

You grinned, reminding him to meet you on the deck in ten minutes, before rushing to the kitchen.

It was good that your Captain always skipped breakfast, because the kitchen and dining room of the Victoria Punk was currently in a state of chaos.

Emma was mixing a huge bowl of red cake batter under Killer’s supervision, whilst the Commander himself was seasoning some ground meat for the filling of Kid’s favorite cabbage rolls.

Dive was perched on Wire’s shoulders, hanging streamers from the ceiling all around the room. Quincy’s tongue stuck out as she concentrated on carefully painting elaborate letterings on a large white banner – it only said “HA” for now, but she had plenty of time to finish the rest of that sentence.

The other members of the Kid Pirates were also busy with various tasks – wrapping presents, blowing up balloons, polishing the fancy silverware they got from their last loot, taking out the clean, non-blood-stained tablecloth.

You nodded in satisfaction at the progress of the party preparation.

“You still here?” Heat scoffed, “Aren’t you supposed to keep Kid away from the ship?”

“Running a bit late – he literally wouldn’t budge when I woke him up.” You sighed, “But he’s up now. We’ll head off in a few minutes.”

“Don’t let him in here!” Papas yelled.

“Well, duh!” You rolled your eyes, hand on the door handle, “I’m not stupid!”

You yanked the door open only to come face-to-face with the redhead himself.

“Kid!” You exclaimed, immediately shutting the door behind you before he could see anything.

He stared at you with one eyebrow raised, “What’s with the commotion?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged, “The usual breakfast quarrel. Heat preferred hard-boiled eggs, Wire liked them soft-boiled, and now the rest of the crew are taking sides –yelling and throwing stuff at each other.”

Kid only hummed in response, not at all suspicious of your lie since it was a likely occurrence on this ship.

“Come on,” He offered his non-mechanical arm to you, “Let’s go then.”

You happily linked your arm with his, and off you both went ashore. Your heartbeat picked up in anticipation – it had been a while since you went on a date with Kid.

The Victoria Punk had been docked for a couple of days on this little winter island when Kid came upon the frozen lake in the middle of its woods. You had been on watch when he returned to the ship, immediately telling you all about his discovery. You had found it very endearing how he looked like a little child with that huge, excited grin as he rushed off to find his skates.

It was never even cold enough for snow on his home island back in the South Blue, so it went without saying that Kid had never ice-skated until he entered the Grand Line and set foot on his first winter island. It wasn’t long until he found out that he had a natural aptitude for it, a fact he loved bragging about to the rest of the crew.

Yesterday, you watched with envy from the sidelines as Kid, Bubblegum, and UK raced a few laps around the lake. On the way back to the ship, you had begged Kid to teach you how to skate until he finally relented and said yes, which brought you to your date today. It also happened to be the perfect opportunity to get Kid off the ship for a few hours while the crew set up the surprise.

It was a short trek to the lake, and you shook in excitement when you caught sight of the smooth, glassy surface of the ice, shimmering with the blinding reflection of the morning sun.

Kid dropped his bag on the snow-covered ground, crouching to rummage through it. He took out his own skates, a pair he made for you, and…

“I’m not wearing that fucking bowl on my head.” You looked disgustedly at the ugly metal thing that Kid was holding out to you.

“Yeah well, too bad, sweetheart.” He plopped the helmet on your head and tied the strap under your chin, “You’re wearing it, or I’m not teaching you how to skate.”

Kid then proceeded to help you put on your skates, making sure to double-knot the laces, before putting on his own. He then stood up easily, while your effort to get to your feet resulted in what probably would be a bruised bum.

The bastard had the audacity to laugh before pulling you up, guiding you to carefully step onto the icy lake. You wobbled at the slippery surface, knuckles turning white at how hard you were grasping Kid’s arms.

“Relax, doll, I got you.” Kid’s unusually soft voice calmed your nerves, and you started to slowly loosen your iron grip.

“There we go,” he grinned as he started skating backward, propelling you to go forward along with him.

“Shit, Kid.” You panicked again, staring at the speed of which your blades were carving the ice, “Slow down!”

“Hey, look at me!” He searched your eyes, “Keep your gaze straight.”

You met his amber eyes, and Kid smiled, “Good. Now, bend your knees a little for me.”

You did as he said, and when he started gliding again, you found it much easier to follow his movements.

The two of you skated across the lake – hands joined, eyes locked – until you finally felt like you got the hang of it. Kid seemed to sense your increased confidence too, because he smirked and asked, “Think you’re ready to try on your own? Or are you too much of a coward?”

The thought of losing the tether of Kid’s hands daunted you, but like hell were you going to back down from his challenge.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and Kid skated away from you – just a short distance away, but the gap between the two of you looked massive from where you stood, frozen to your spot.

You hesitantly pushed the edge of your skate against the ice, just like Kid showed you, taking one tentative stroke, then another, and another.

He stealthily skated backward bit by bit, increasing the distance which you had to skate to reach him.

“Kid, I’m doing it!” Your smile was so bright, Kid was afraid it would melt the ice and plunge you both into the freezing waters.

With one last broad stroke, you gained speed and flung yourself straight into Kid’s waiting arms. He caught you and lifted you a few inches from the ground, spinning you around in a dizzying twirl. You laughed in glee, holding on tight to him until the spin lost its momentum and he set you down onto the ice again.

Kid rested his forehead against yours, “Not bad for a beginner.”

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the warm rays streaming through the canopy of trees, and the birds singing softly overhead.

You cleared your throat and called out his name, heat rising to your cheeks, “I, uh, got you something. For your birthday.”

You reached into the front pocket of your jeans and took out a simple metal bracelet with a single ruby embedded in the center.

The craftsmanship was extremely shoddy – the edges uneven, the stone crooked. Kid immediately knew that you made the accessory with your own hands.

You slightly pushed up the sleeve of your sweater to show the perfect bracelet Kid made you for your last birthday, crafted from the same material and inlaid all over with the blood-red gems. You rarely ever took it off, not even during showers.

You licked your lips nervously, the heat from your cheeks spreading to your entire face, “I wanted us to match.”

Kid took the bracelet from you and wordlessly slipped it onto his wrist. You waited with bated breath as he admired it glint under the sunlight.

"I know it looks awful, you don't have to wear–"

“Thanks, love.” He interrupted you. He’d never admit it, and you pretended not to notice, but his voice sounded a bit choked up when he continued, “Best damn present I’ve ever got my whole life.”

His metal hand came to rest on your hip, while his other cupped your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a rare, tender kiss.

You circled your arms around his neck, pulling him flush with you. The familiar press of your body made him groan, and his lips melded with yours more insistently, gaining a hunger that you were more used to feeling in Kid’s kisses.

You reached up to bury your hand in his crimson hair and pulled at the threads, tugging him closer.

That was the moment your feet, still fairly unused to the skates, slipped under you. Your heart dropped and Kid’s eyes widened as you toppled backward, bringing him along with you.

Your hand instinctively reached out in a desperate attempt to stop the fall and you felt something crack when it slammed onto the hard ice. Kid, thankfully, succeeded in planting both of his palms down, narrowly missing crushing you flat to the ground.

“Fuck, are you alright?!” Kid yelled as he helped you sit upright.

You winced at the sharp sting on your wrist, but nodded at him anyway, “I’m okay.”

You knocked on your helmet with your uninjured hand, laughing as the metallic bonk echoed throughout the area, “Good thing you had me put on this hideous thing, huh?”

Kid didn’t respond as he inspected your wrist with furrowed brows, “I think it’s sprained? Or broken? We need to get you back to the ship.”

The ship. Where the preparation for Kid’s surprise party was still in full swing.

“Uh, you know what? I’m good. Can we just stay here for a little longer? I haven’t even finished a full lap around the lake yet–“

“Just let me take care of you for once, won’t you?”

You melted, unable to resist that look in his eyes, so earnest and caring despite his raised voice.

“Fine.” You finally answered with a sigh.

It was fine. You just had to keep him out of the kitchen. Easy!

Not.

The kitchen was exactly the very first place Kid marched to when you two arrived back at the ship.

“Whoa, why are we heading to the kitchen? The medical supplies are in the sick bay.”

“Killer keeps a first-aid kit in the kitchen, you know that.” He squinted his eyes, starting to get suspicious, “And it’s closer. The sick bay’s all the way across and down the deck.”

You stood in front of the door, blocking it. Your ears slightly picked up the rowdy voices inside that were definitely not expecting you and the Captain to return this early.

In a last-ditch attempt, you tried to put on a seductive look, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Wait, Kid.” You trailed your hand up his chest suggestively, “Why don’t we go back to your room and I’ll give you a proper birthday present, hmm?”

“You’re being weird.” He scowled, “Step aside.”

When you didn’t make a move, Kid effortlessly picked you up by the waist and set you to the side, his hand reaching for the door handle.

“No!” You yelped as he slammed the door to the kitchen open.

Silence greeted you as the whole crew froze, pausing whatever they were doing and staring in shock at their Captain.

The cake was only half-decorated, with most of the frosting seemingly ending up on Emma’s face instead. The banner, still spread on the floor, now read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY K”, with a smudge on the “K” where Quincy’s brush slipped at Kid’s loud entrance.

You cringed and glanced at Kid, whose eyes were wide as saucers, “Uh… Happy birthday, I guess?”

A cacophony of yelled-out happy birthdays started all at once, thirty voices chaotically overlapping with each other.

“Wow, you guys suck at surprises.”

A moment later, Kid doubled over in laughter and the crew let out the breaths they didn't know they'd been holding.

Kid ended up lending an extra hand to finish the rest of the preparations for his own party while Heat treated your sprained wrist.

Despite the rocky start, the festivities turned out to be a success, with everyone enjoying themselves immensely, especially the birthday boy himself.

Kid absolutely refused a birthday song, though, so Hip and Reck busted out their electric guitars and played some of his favorite tunes instead.

The singing, dancing, and drinking went on all day and well into the night. And when some of the crew had started passing out drunk on the floor, Kid came over and whispered in your ear, “Now, about that proper birthday present…”

You dragged him out of there and into the Captain’s quarters without another word.

a/n: aksjldkj i didn't finish this in time to publish at the normal time i usually post, but it's still 10th Jan so happy birthday Kid!!!

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

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quillsandtypos · 3 days ago

Text

The Light of Laughter

Words: 7.7 k

Pairings: none, this is a platonic/familial fic

Characters: Lee!Peter, Ler!Tony, Ler!Bucky, Lee!Wanda, Ler!Steve,

Warnings: a lot of tickling and some older brother/mentor tickling so if that’s not your thing please feel free to sit this one out

Author’s note: This is a squealing Santa fic for the lovely @inneedofsupervision I’m so sorry your gift is late but I hope I make up for the wait. I also wanted to give a massive thanks to @squealing-santa for running this event and for graciously helping me with the deadline.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell rang, sending chairs scuffing across the floor as students pushed their way out of the classroom. Kids pushed past him, knocking shoulders with him in the chaos as Peter waded to the back of the room.

“You don’t have to wait for me, ya know?” Ned said, roughly shoving his stuff in his folders.

Peter’s brows furrowed. He took one look at the mess on Ned’s desk and started helping him pack his things up. “Yes, I do. I’m the reason we got separated in this class, and we always walk out together.”

Ned brushed off his help, but continued shoving things away. “Aww thanks Peter.” He picked up a notebook paper that had floated down to the floor somehow. “You'd make such a good girlfriend,” he said, then frozen with the paper still between his fingers.

Peter gently pried it from his hands, sliding it into his backpack, sensing that all of the tests were starting to get to him. “Was that what you meant to say?”

Ned finally dethawed, going back to the task at hand. “We’re not acknowledging it.”

Peter chortled, fighting back a comment about the blush on his face. “Yes we are.”

Ned pointed a finger at him. “Not if you still want your christmas present.”

Peter mimicked zipping his lips, not wanting to risk losing his gift. He didn’t have to use his spidey senses to guess what it was. Ned had been dropping quote unquote hints to him about his present all week, and Peter had figured out it was legos by Wednesday.

He filed the last of Ned’s papers away, which was less of putting papers in folders, and mostly a lot of shoving. Peter didn’t even know how he managed to collect this many papers in the first place.

“You aren’t going to be able to find any of your papers when we come back from break,” Peter remarked, picking up a broken folder that was nearly split in half with all the papers inside of it.

Ned shrugged. “I’ll just throw out anything I don’t need when January comes.”

“Then get a new folder for the semester so you can break it by summer?” Peter asked, fighting back a grin. He knew he was pushing his luck with his christmas gift on the line, but Peter had a gift for him as well, and he wasn’t afraid to bargain his way back into Ned’s good graces.

“Exactly,” Ned nodded. “See, I’m glad you get it.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“By Mr. Smith!” Peter called, waving to his teacher as they walked out the door.

“Bye boys, stay safe over break. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He said, closing the door on them on their way out.

The hallways were a mess of hustle and bustle, everyone eager to escape the building as fast as possible. With the thought of finals erased from their minds, and their warm beds waiting for them at home to catch up on some overdue sleep, no one was wasting another minute in that dreadful building.

Peter tapped the top of the frame as Ned and him pushed through the doors, letting the cold New York winter air blow into the hallways, sending Christmas lights fluttering in the breeze.

“My gift?” Peter asked, once they were outside and away from the entrance.

“I want mine first,” Ned said.

Peter cocked his head at him, a coy smile playing at his lips. “How’d you know I bought you one?”

Ned deadpanned. “Oh come on Peter, we do the same thing every year. We give each other gifts on the last day of school before break.”

Peter dropped the act. “Fine.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box covered messily in red candy cane wrapping. As he handed it to Ned he realized he’d missed a spot, and he hoped he didn’t notice.

Luckily, Ned tore it open as fast as he always did, barely noticing the wrapping before he immediately threw it away.

“Do you know what it is?” Peter asked, as Ned continued staring at it without saying anything.

Ned’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”

Peter tapped on the clear box. “It’s a Palladium core I encased in resin.”

Ned’s eyes went wide. “No, it’s not-” he trailed off, but Peter nodded.

“Look at the front of it.”

Ned flipped it around and gasped, holding a hand to his mouth. “You got it signed by him?”

Peter smiled. “Yup. This is one of the ones that was inside him,” Peter stopped, holding up a finger. “Wait, not like that.”

Ned grabbed him by the shoulders. “Who cares! Peter! This is the best gift ever!”

Peter grinned even wider as his friend shook him rather aggressively, the zippers on his backpack clanging with the movement. It really hadn’t been that difficult to come by, Tony had just had to replace his, and when Peter asked about it, Tony had happily complied.

He thought it was a little weird at first, but he had just said, “kids these days” then scoffed and walked off, leaving Peter with the core.

Ned stopped shaking him, a frown overtaking his face. “Aww, but all I got you was legos.”

Peter’s face lit up at the mention. “No, are you kidding me? I’m about to get a bunch of sciency stuff from the avengers, all I want are some legos.”

“Alright, fine,” Ned groaned, handing him a bright gift bag.

Peter took it and ripped all of the tissue paper out of the bag. “Yes!” he cheered. “All I needed was the hulk to complete my set.”

Ned raised a brow. “Do the avengers ever find it weird that you collect lego figurines of them?”

Peter felt his cheeks warm. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never told them.”

“Heard,” Ned nodded.

“Alright, see you in a few days?” Ned asked, bumping his fist against his.

Peter finished the handshake. “Yep, I’ll see you then.”

Usually the two would walk home on the last day, but this year was different. As the snow began to lightly fall over the city, Peter was headed towards the avengers tower for a few days.

Aunt May had won some sort of radio contest back in November to go on a Christmas cruise for five days. She was overjoyed, until she found out she had only been given a ticket for one person. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him alone for Christmas, stating that she would rather work double shifts at the community center for two weeks than ever even think about leaving him by himself in New York. Peter was grateful she didn’t know about his nightly patrols, fearful that she might very well have a heart attack, but he needed to come up with some way to convince her to go anyway. Peter knew she needed a break, but after almost a month of trying to reassure her he’d be fine, even he was starting to run out of ways to convince her.

Peter was ranting about it to Tony one day in the lab, and he’d offered him up a solution on a silver platter.

Apparently, as long as he was staying with the Earth’s mightiest heroes, May was willing to let him stay in New York without her. He’d still had to assure her a dozen times that he would be fine with her leaving him on christmas, but they’d managed to pull it off. Just before school that day, she’d left for the airport with her bags. She’d placed a kiss on his cheek, told him to have fun, and to text lots of pictures. She added on as she stood in the doorframe, that she wanted him to be good for Tony. Peter fought the urge to laugh, considering it would be more fitting if she told Tony to behave himself.

He’d heard rumors of Tony Stark’s infamous Christmas parties, and had been fighting the urge to ask him if he’d be invited for the last week.

The walk passed by faster than it usually did, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what he could get up to for the next five days. As he approached the tower, he looked up at the full height of it. The A was already accumulating a fair amount of snow on top of it as the gray skies above it seemed to swirl around the building.

Peter heaved in a breath before he rang the doorbell. There would be more heroes in the tower than he was used to for the next few days. Tony was inviting all kinds of people from all corners of the universe for the week. He’d already met so many of his heroes, and now he had the potential to interact with even more.He’d tried to tease it out of Tony, but he’d only held a finger to his lips and told him he’d find out eventually. However, here Peter was, and the day was finally here.

At last, he gathered up the courage to actually ring the bell, and he listened intently to the sound echoing through the first few levels of the tower.

It was always a mystery who would open the door for him at the Avengers tower. More often than not, it was Happy or Pepper, but occasionally he would get one of the other’s.

Today, he was surprised to be met with no one. The door unlocked on its own, and it just swung open, seemingly on a stray breeze. Peter walked in cautiously, his footsteps light, but nothing seemed glaringly wrong except for the mysterious door. He quietly hung his bag on the hanger Tony had drilled into the wall, and began tip toeing into the living room.

He turned the corner, peeking out from behind the door frame when he spotted Wanda, and another woman he didn’t recognize.

“Oh, hi Peter!” Wanda called. “The other’s are upstairs in various places.”

“Oh, thanks for letting me in,” he said, staying a distance away from them. They seemed to be in the middle of something before he walked in, the other person on the couch blushing furiously.

Wanda stood, placing her glass of wine on the table beside her. “Oh, I almost forgot, Spider-man this is Tele, Tele this Spider-man.” Wanda turned back to Tele. “Or I guess I should specify, this is our world's Spider-man. God, that’s going to get difficult when everyone gets here.”

At Wanda’s words, Peter’s memory came flooding back to him. “Ohhh, your Peter three’s friend.”

They nodded. “Well it’s nice to officially meet you, but Tony said I should meet him up in the lab when I get here, so I should probably go.”

“Go,” Wanda waved. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up in the next couple days.”

Peter hoped she was right, he’d been wondering if she’d be in the tower just yet. He had heard she’d been sent on a mission with Tele, Peter three, and Natasha, and he had a lot of questions for her. The occupants of the tower didn’t always notice it, but they had a tendency of telling him things he shouldn’t necessarily know. Not that Peter was complaining, but it was funny how all of their spy training and stoic personalities all softened when they were comfortable around each other.

Peter stepped into one of the elevators and pressed the twelfth floor. It smoothly rode up the line to his floor and when the doors opened, his eyes widened at the winter wonderland in front of him.

It was like he was stepping into santa’s workshop. The billionaire had strung up garland anywhere he could without making it a fire hazard, and there were so many fairy lights strung from the ceiling that the brightness replaced the glow of the regular lab lights.

Peter walked around, taking it all in.

Stockings hung from each large piece of equipment, their names listed on each of them in glitter glue that looked like Morgan had helped. The green and red iron man suit was on display in the middle of the lab, and each of the center poles in the room were wrapped to look like candy canes.

“You like it?” Tony called from the back, his voice echoing a little with all the metal in the room.

Peter spun around, trying to observe all of it in as big of a quantity as he could. “LIke it? I think Santa Claus threw up in here.”

“That better be a compliment Parker, you know I’m not afraid to flip you to the naughty list and take away your presents.” Peter laughed, hearing the teasing in his tone. It was always a challenge when he arrived in the lab to find Tony. Some days he thought the man was purposely making a game of it, but today he found him behind a few monitors with ease.

Peter looked at the screen, leaning over Tony’s desk to look at what he’d been working on. “Funny, you’re not the first person to tell me that today.”

“Well, maybe that means you deserve it,” Tony said, tweaking his ribs.

“Hey!” Peter squeaked, puberty immediately leaving his voice.

“Hey is for horses, what’s it doing in your mouth?” Tony remarked without taking his eyes off of the monitor. Peter backed up, making sure to keep his arms close to his sides.

“What’d you call me up for? What are we working on today?” he asked eagerly.

Tony spun around towards him, looking up at him. “You, my sticky friend, are not working on anything for the next five days.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter groaned. He could work on so many upgrades with all the time he was going to have in the tower. With no school, and no Aunt May, he had nothing stopping him.

Tony held his hands up. “No, I don’t want to hear a whining. I signed on to house a sixteen year old for a few days, not a five year old.”

Peter wanted to say that he was not acting like a five year old, but he feared that would only prove Tony’s point. However, he had never had such an ideal time to work, and he couldn’t give up on the idea that easily. “But I have so many new ideas for my suit.”

“Nope,” Tony said, dramatically popping the ‘p’. “You, my friend, are going to take a few days off, and so am I. There are people being put in place to keep an eye here on earth, and none of those people are you and me.”

“What was the point in decorating the lab then?” Peter asked.

Tony looked at him like the answer to his question was quite obvious, and Peter was reminded of how truly dramatic his mentor was.

Tony patted his back, getting to his feet. “Consider it me paying you back for that time I let you go to space.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “But you didn’t let me? I went without asking.”

Tony slowly turned to him. He stared at Peter for a moment before he started rapidly jabbing his hands into Peter’s midsection wherever he could manage. “Is this really a point you’d like to be arguing five days before Christmas, Parker?”

Peter boyishly giggled as he jumped out of the way. He should’ve known better than to nitpick Tony when he was telling a story. “Noho!”

Tony only followed the teenager, wrapping an arm around him and fluttering his fingers on his neck. “Are you sure?” he teased.

“Yes,” Peter laughed. He lightly pushed him away, taking care to not use too much of his strength considering Tony didn’t even have a suit on.

“Alright, spiderling, I believe you for now. So, are we clear about the rules with lab time?”

Peter couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he shook his head in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, just a couple other ground rules, and then I’ll let you go.” He clapped his hands together. “We just discussed number one, so you already know no lab time for the next five days, I want you to have some time off. Rule number two, no patrols either, it goes under the time off clause.” Peter groaned, but Tony continued on.

“Rule number three, you have to help Morgan, Pepper, and I wrap gifts because I bought too many gifts for everyone. Rule number four, you need to send your Aunt May an update at least once a day-” Peter started to protest, but Tony held a hand up.

“Ah-ah those are the rules I agreed to for taking you on. If you don’t follow them your Aunt will have my head and yours.”

Peter held his hands up. “I was gonna say that it shouldn’t be a problem because I've already texted her twice today, but okay.”

“Sure you were,” Tony chortled.

“I was!” Peter scoffed.

Tony pushed his reading glasses up on his head. “Well aren’t you nyc’s little golden boy.”

Peter paused, uncertain what to do with the comment. Luckily, Tony moved on from most things pretty quickly.

“Okay, rule number 5, no more calling me Mr. Stark. You are quite literally spending Christmas with me, don’t make it weird. Number six, no shenanigans?”

Peter cocked a brow, and Tony shrugged. “What qualifies as a shenanigan?”

He pointed a finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me kid.”

Peter gawked at him. “I’m not, what does that mean?”

“Well I don’t want to give you an example, that’ll just give you ideas.”

Peter threw his hands up, and Tony’s facade cracked a little, no longer able to bite down on his smile. “I’m messing with you web slinger, you know I support mischief.”

He pointed a finger at Peter. “Just don’t tell Loki I said that.”

“You have my word, Mr. Stark.”

Tony glared at him and Peter took a preemptive step back. “Sorry, Tony. It’ll take a little getting used to.”

Tony began walking out of the lab, and Peter followed. When Tony came to a sudden stop, so did Peter. “Oh, also, you can come to the Christmas party, but you can’t drink.”

“Oh, come on,” Peter protested.

Tony sighed. “Alright, fine, you can have a singular drink.” Peter began uttering his thanks, and telling him about how responsible he will be, but Tony shushed him. “We’ll pretend we’re in Europe to ease my conscience. You have to promise me you won’t tell your aunt though.”

“I promise,” he agreed, eyes shining. He honestly hadn’t expected to be invited to the christmas party, let alone allowed to drink, and he wouldn’t do anything to make Tony regret it.

“Alright, good,” Tony patted him on the back. “Now be a proper teenager and go bother people or hide in your room, your pick.”

Peter laughed good naturedly, knowing Tony didn’t truly mean it. Or at least, he was fairly sure.

Tony snapped his fingers. “Oh, also if you could bother resident broody and the star spangled banner, that would be the best present you could give me. Truly priceless.”

Peter smiled, heading up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. “I think I can manage that.”

Tony gave him a thumbs up and they went their separate ways. Peter was surprised he hadn’t received a lecture on gift giving, specifically, on how he should have a lack of it. Last year he had gotten Tony a singular gift for the holidays, just a simple frame of the photo of the two of them, and Tony had given him a gift for ten weeks straight to prove a point. Apparently, billionaires didn’t appreciate teenagers with limited funds using their money on them.

Peter unlocked the door to his room, and jumped on top of his soft duvet. His body went limp, the mattress soaking up every bit of his exhaustion. He sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut. He would just lay here for a little bit, and then he would wander around the tower and visit with everyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter woke up bleary eyed and still in his clothes from the day before. He rolled, trying to find where his clock was, and realized there was no more bed underneath him. His stomach lurched as his hands scrambled for purchase. He grabbed his sheets, which slowed his fall. He sighed in relief, still half delirious. He stayed there for a second, still trying to figure out what had happened when the sheets lost their hold.

He landed with a thunk and groaned in pain. Apparently, his spidey senses weren’t awake either. He wiped at his eyes, trying to make sense of everything.

He looked up at the clock on his nightstand and had to rub his eyes and read it again to make sure he was seeing correctly. Peter had woken up at nine am the next day.

He wrestled himself out of his sheets and threw them back on the bed. He cursed his teenage body mixed with a spider bite for needing so much sleep. He had probably already missed so many new arrivals while he was sleeping.

As he pulled out some clothes from his dresser, he realized there were decorations all over his room too. He must not have noticed it when he’d walked in yesterday, but someone had done up his room as well. Garland hung from each of his furniture pieces like icicles from the edge of a house, his rug had been changed out to a fluffy red and green one, and he even had some festive attire that someone had thrown in with the rest of his regular clothes.

He opted to forgo the red and green in terms of clothing for the time being. He was already likely going to be the youngest in every room, and he didn’t need everyone looking at him like a child because he was wearing an elf onesie. Besides, that would only bring more attention to him while he was trying to learn about all of the new people.

He quickly showered and threw on his clothes, absentmindedly pushed his hair back and headed out the door.

He ran down the steps at full speed towards the kitchen as his stomach growled. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so late, he’d make sure to set an alarm tomorrow. It was so stupid of him to sleep for so long.

A door clicked open in front of him, and he stopped just a few inches from where his nose would’ve collided with it.

“Little spider,” Natasha laughed, seeing him as the door shut. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

She continued walking, so Peter followed. “I accidentally fell asleep yesterday afternoon when I got home from school, and I just woke up.”

“Oh trust me, you didn’t miss much.” Natasha waved a hand. “The only person in the tower who doesn’t live here went to bed early, Steve and Bucky went on our last grocery trip till after the holidays, and Wanda made a few pie crusts.”

“I know, but-” Peter started, then stopped himself. Natasha had said he didn’t miss much, but she had been a part of this family for longer than he had. He had never spent a Christmas with the Avengers before, and it all felt so new and exciting to him. This was all old business to Natasha, she’d probably find him quite silly.

“What?” she asked, slowing down.

Peter stopped at the next landing to face her. “No, it’s probably dumb. Nevermind.”

“I’m sure it’s not dumb, come on, tell me. Or if it is dumb, then I will forget I heard anything.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “It’s just.” He sighed, but then decided he’d go for it anyway. “I’ve never been here during the holidays, and I just don’t want to miss any of it. I want to soak it all up, ya know?”

He scratched at the top of his head, but then abruptly put his hand back down, thinking the movement looked weird.

Natasha leaned against the stair railing. “Peter,” she smiled. “I was once new to this team too. I know the feeling of wanting to soak up every moment with this family. But trust me, they aren’t going anywhere, and neither are you.”

Peter smacked himself in the forehead. It had only occurred to him till after Natasha said it but it seemed obvious now. He should’ve known that she would understand. It was so silly of him to think he was the only one who had ever felt like this. Still, he knew Natasha wouldn’t take well to him opening the holiday with apologizing to her, so he moved on. “I know that, it just doesn’t feel like it.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “And that’s okay too. It took me a long time to get used to it.” She laughed. “Sometimes I think I’m still getting used to it. But remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You’re here for five whole days, don’t run yourself ragged trying to do everything.”

Peter blew a breath out, feeling a little less high strung. “Thanks Natasha.”

She squeezed his arm. “Anytime little spider.”

“Does that mean I can call you big spider?” Peter asked, now following her down the stairs.

She shook her head, chuckling. “I guess so. Just don’t ever say it in front of Clint, or I may have to kill you.”

“Noted.” Peter nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t certain he would ever be brave enough to call her that to her face, but he saved it away just in case he needed it.

He entered the kitchen, counting four bodies occupying the space, and all sorts of delicious smells wafting around the area.

Natasha leaned in beside him, whispering. “Like I said, pace yourself.”

She walked off, continuing down the steps, and leaving Peter in the chaos. He stood completely still for a moment, unsure of what to do. It almost seemed like they were doing some sort of dance. Pots and pans flew above heads, spoons were passed back and forth, footsteps were carefully made around each other like they had choreographed it all in advance. Peter was worried that if he stepped in, he might throw them off rhythm.

His stomach growled angrily, reminding him that while his bite also made him able to sleep longer, it also meant he needed to eat much more.

“Guys, can I cut into the kitchen to get breakfast?” Peter yelled over simmering liquids and frying meats.

Wanda was the first to turn towards him. “Oh, morning Peter. Can I grab something for you?” She looked at the chaos surrounding her with wide eyes. “I think that would be easier at this point.”

“Yes please, if you could hand me the poptarts, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh, do try the new chocolate flavored ones we got spiderling,” Thor said, turning around, whisk in hand. “They are quite delicious.”

“Yeah, I’ll have those if we’ve got ‘em.” Peter nodded. “Please,” he added on quickly.

Wanda flicked her fingers, and the pop tart box flew out of the cabinet. Peter was about to ask how she managed to direct her power so casually without hitting anyone, but then he realized the box was already in his hand.

“Hey, wait, we don’t just hand out food for free,” Bucky scoffed. “I thought we agreed the kitchen was a no touch zone when there were chefs in it.”

“Bucky, you’re making brownies. Calm down, you aren’t cooking up world peace,” Sam called out from the other side of the kitchen.

Bucky pointed a dirty spatula at him with such aggression that Peter let out a laugh. “That’s what you think, but for all you know, the moment you taste these all your problems could be cured.”

“Not unless your attitude disappears,” Sam guffawed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Wanda, are you going to let this happen?”

Wanda looked about near her breaking point. “If by this you mean letting the boy eat his breakfast, then yes I do.”

Bucky groaned, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder who the teenager in the room was. “Can we at least make him help us?”

Wanda leaned against the counter, her hands on her hips. “Peter, I am currently dealing with actual children, so would you mind helping Bucky with the brownies when you’re done eating your breakfast? Steve was supposed to help him, but now none of us know where he’s got to.”

Peter nodded, shoving a poptart in his mouth. “Of course, I don’t mind helping.”

Wanda smiled fondly at him. “Thank you.” She covered the side of her mouth like it would prevent the others from hearing her as she fake whispered. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

The others protested, but she paid them no mind as she went back to her food. Peter took a few more minutes eating his fill in pop tarts until he joined Bucky in the kitchen. The sounds of automatic whisks, squeezing bottles, and bowls clanking against one another filled his ears.

“Alright, have you ever made brownies before?” Bucky asked, quite seriously.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who hasn’t? They come in a box.”

Bucky rolled his eyes for the second time in five minutes. “Homemade brownies Peter. Come on, who do you think I am?”

Peter held his hands up innocently. “Wasn’t trying to take away your brownie points.”

Bucky raised a brow. “Was that a pun?”

Peter tensed. “Maybe?”

He could tell Bucky was desperately trying to bite back a smile, and Peter snickered. “Alright, well, homemade brownies are a much more highly involved process.”

“Okay, so what do we need?” Peter asked, pushing his sleeves up to wash his hands.

Bucky listed off the ingredients and Peter rummaged around the kitchen to find them. However, even after five minutes of looking in the fridge, Peter couldn’t find the eggs.

He poked his head out of the fridge. “Guys, I think we’re out of eggs.”

He looked over to see Thor grimacing. “My apologies, between my breakfast this morning, and clarifying the mead, I think I used the last of them.”

Peter brushed him off, now opening the freezer. “That’s fine, we can just use applesauce.”

“No, we cannot!” Bucky protested. “It calls for eggs.”

Sam leaned around Wanda to look at them. “Barnes, have you never heard of a substitute?”

“No, you have to do the recipe exactly as it says, otherwise it won’t turn out.”

Wanda made cuckoo signs around his head, and Bucky whipped around. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Wanda chirped, going back to whisking. She shot a wink at Peter and it took nearly all of his laughter to not burst out laughing.

Bucky threw his hands up. “What? I’m serious, you should never substitute things. It won’t turn out the same.”

Peter cocked a brow. “Didn’t you grow up during the depression?”

“Are you calling me old?” Bucky asked, his voice lilting.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No! I mean, wouldn’t it have been common for you to have to substitute things?”

“Yes, which is why it’s not good!” Bucky nearly yelled.

Wanda stirred her soup. “My family had to substitute things all the time, and we were fine.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “And you’re telling me all of them tasted the same?”

Wanda nodded patiently. “Yes, you just have to know what you’re doing.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Are you saying I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Wanda shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t even know that you should substitute applesauce for eggs. That’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you agree Peter?”

Peter nodded, knowing better than to be on the opposing team of Wanda, and Tony’s earlier words playing in his mind. Bucky flicked him in the arm. “Ow,” Peter winced.

Wanda continued adding things to her soup as she spoke to Bucky. “It seems to me that this is more of a skill issue.”

Bucky sighed. “Wanda,” he said, his tone warning. Peter kept his eyes on both of them, sensing the rising tension and wondering where it would go.

“What?” she asked innocently, her eyes widened. “I think you might just be bad at baking, it’s alright, not everyone can be good at it.”

“Maximoff, I swear,” he started.

“Barnes, don’t swear in front of the kid!” she gasped, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Yeah!” Peter agreed indignantly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “He’s sixteen, he curses all the time.”

Wanda propped a hand up on her hip. “Peter, cover your ears, don’t listen to the man with the potty mouth.”

Peter followed her lead, putting his hands up on his head. “Yeah, Bucky, how dare you accuse me of such things!”

Bucky looked done with both of them. “Peter, you say shit about seventy times every time you’re in the lab.”

“How dare you! Peter would never do that!” Wanda said, looking like she was about to burst with how much laughter she was holding back.

“You know what Maximoff?” he said, his lip twitching.

She took a step closer. “What?” she asked, raising her brows. Peter backed up, having the innate sensation that one of them was going to snap and it wasn’t going to go well.

They were both perfectly still for a moment, and then Bucky struck. He grabbed her by the stomach with his metal arm, too quick for her to use her magic against him, and began scratching at her sides.

“Bucky,” she squealed, her legs kicking out at him and continually missing.

Peter did his best to fade into the shadows, suddenly forgetting his alliance. He knew how quickly the tables could turn, and how ruthless Bucky could be. Wanda hit out at his metal arm, her magic getting lost in between her laughter. “Are you going to stop giving me a hard time?” he asked.

“Nohoho,” she giggled, twitching all over the place as his fingers darted across her skin.

“Peter!” Wanda yelped. “Help me!”

Peter hesitated for a moment, but decided it would be in his best interest to keep the scarlet witch on his side.

With a quiet, “thwip!”, he webbed Bucky’s metal arm, pulling it behind his back to give Wanda an escape.

She fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, and Bucky let her go, not bothering to continue torturing her.

Peter was surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight, until he realized Bucky was slowly turning towards him.

“Wait,” Peter said, holding his hands in front of him. He had just poked a sleeping bear.

“Did you just web me?” Bucky asked, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye.

Peter could feel Thor behind him, and Sam watching the whole thing in interest now. All of his senses were suddenly alert, like he was about to go into battle. What all of his systems were currently telling him was that he needed to run, and quickly.

Without answering Bucky’s question, he leapt over the kitchen counter, sprinting towards the steps.

“Oh no you don’t, you pest,” he heard Bucky call after him.

Peter ran full force through the living room, thinking that if he could just make it to the steps and get the door shut behind him, then maybe he could make his escape.

He was a few steps away, just only a few more seconds and he would be free. His hand reached for the door, and he pushed it open. He got a foot in the door when a familiar cold arm wrapped around his middle.

“No!” Peter yelled, grabbing a hold of the door frame. He attempted to pull himself forward, but Bucky merely spidered his fingers in Peter’s armpits and he immediately lost his grip, his arms shooting down to protect himself.

Bucky threw him over his shoulder with an ease that Peter wasn’t used to.

“That’s not fair,” he protested. He tried to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms, but there was no give.

“No, what’s not fair is that you all get to act like little shits, and annoy me without any repercussions,” Bucky said, walking towards the couch.

Peter began to panic, squirming around like a bug caught in a web. He knew the moment that Bucky had him pinned he was done for.

“Bucky! Wait! We promise we won’t bother you anymore!” Peter said as a last ditch effort.

“You promise?” Bucky asked, standing directly over the couch.

“Promise.” Peter said, earnestly.

Bucky paused, beginning to set Peter down. Peter blew out a sigh of relief, then, Bucky reversed his direction and threw Peter forward onto the couch. “Too bad, I want my fun now.”

He jumped on top of him, pinning his arms above his head, and sitting on his thighs.

“Bucky, Bucky, wait!”” Peter called, nervous giggles already leaking out of him.

“Wait for what?” Bucky asked, his metal arm hovering over Peter’s stomach.

“Wanda, hELP!” Peter squealed, but was cut off as Bucky’s hand began fluttering everywhere he could reach.

“Just because you can’t bake, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the rest of us!” Peter giggled.

“You know, I was going to take it easy on you since you just finished finals, but nevermind,” Bucky huffed. He began squeezing Peter’s ribs, softly brushing his thumb into each one.

“I take it back!” Peter wheezed, descending into frenzied cackles. It was a cruel move, targeting his ribs like that. It always sent Peter reeling, his body not knowing what to do with all of the sensations his skin was taking in, and Bucky was especially good at making him shriek.

“Oh, do you now?” Bucky teased, a terrifying smirk on his face.

“Yes!” Peter tugged at his arms in vain. It was no use, with Bucky at his full strength, and Peter weakened by his laughter, he couldn’t overpower him very easily. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“Wanda save me!” he yelled, deciding it was in his best interest to rely on someone else’s power.

Peter faintly heard the sound of a door clicking open and prayed it was Tony. He also had a tendency of tickling him, but at least maybe he would accidentally distract Bucky long enough that he could escape.

To his horror though, the worst possible person had shown up. “What’d he do this time, Buck?” Steve asked, sounding unsurprised.

“Be a little shit like usual,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve came out of his peripheral vision, and walked in front of him, briefly wiggling his fingers over his socked feet. “STEVE!” Peter yelled, kicking out as much as he could with Bucky’s weight on his legs.

“Wow, I always forget how ticklish you are,” Steve tutted, removing his hand.

“Not helping!”

Bucky tasered his sides with his fingers. “He’s not trying to, he’s on my side unlike you other assholes.”

“Wanda!” Peter tried again, sensing the team up that was about to happen.

Bucky looked up at Steve, not stopping his attack on Peter while he did. “Oh yeah, Steve, would you mind going to deal with the red head over there?”

“What did she do?” Steve asked as if there wasn’t a teenager dying of laughter right beside them.

Bucky gestured down towards him, and Peter’s face lit up red. Something about being destroyed by laughter while they held a casual conversation made the sensations so much worse. “Same as Peter.”

Steve nodded. “Ah, I see.” He began walking towards her, and though Peter knew it would only further nail his coffin shut, he yelled over at her.

“Wanda save yourself!”

Bucky cocked his head, momentarily pausing. “You really don’t give up do you?”

Peter shook his head. “Friendly neighborhood spiderman.” He smiled sheepishly.

Bucky positioned his hands atop Peter’s ribs. “Well spiderman, you are far too ticklish to be this risky.”

Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with mirth. “At least I can bake.”

Bucky deadpanned, his fingers wrapping around the backs of Peter’s ribcage. “Okay, now you’re just asking for it.”

Bucky attacked, and Peter immediately fell back into his laughter. Loud cackles burst from his mouth as Bucky squeezed higher up on his ribs.

“Peter, oh my god, stay still, I’m trying to count all of your ribs.”

“Nohoh!” Peter squealed, having played this game with Tony too many times.

“Well now we’re going to have to start all over again,” Bucky huffed, squeezing each rib from the bottom to the top. Peter was going berserk, having one of his worst spots targeted for so long. He briefly opened his eyes and saw Wanda being thrown on the couch next to him. Steve didn’t give her a chance to escape and went straight for her neck.

He screeched as Bucky reached the tops of his ribs again, praying he wouldn’t start the process all over again. However, it was only when he felt Bucky’s fingers climbing higher still that he began to panic.

“Bucky, don’t you dare!”

Bucky paused for a moment, and Peter heaved in deep breaths while he was still able to. “Oh.” Bucky leaned in, smirking in a way that Peter knew that no amount of pleading would convince him to move anywhere else.

“I dare,” he hissed, then jammed his fingers into Peter’s armpits. Peter didn’t make any noise for a moment. He dug his heels into the couch, trying to find the leverage to throw Bucky off of him, he twisted around from side to side, trying to dislodge Bucky’s fingers. He would almost get adjusted to one side, then Bucky would start tickling his other armpit. However, his body was only able to contain the noise so long, and he burst into a scream.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Peter panickedly squeaked.

Bucky turned towards the other couch. “See, Wanda? I told you he curses.”

Peter could just barely hear her screams of laughter above his own, but he could’ve sworn she told him to shut up.

“Now,” Bucky said, turning his attention back to him. “If we can just manage to convince you I can bake.”

Peter was writhing on the couch, his laughter beginning to make his abdomen hurt. Though, he was admittedly not fighting as hard as he could. “You can’t though!” he yelled out.

“Okay, seriously, does anything tire you out?” Bucky said, momentarily pausing his hands.

Peter shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “You’re maybe the only person I know who’s as stubborn as that guy back there,” Bucky teased, pointing to Steve, who was currently making light work of Wanda’s giggles.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Peter smiled, heaving in air.

“It is one,” he smiled. He ruffled Peter’s hair gently, which Peter doubted he’d attempt if he wasn’t currently pinned underneath him. “However,” Bucky started, sitting upright. “Just like him, it’ll get you tickled a lot.”

Bucky released his arms, and Peter’s brows furrowed. He started to sit up, but Bucky had yet to get off of him. Without taking his weight off of him, he adjusted himself so he was still sitting on Peter’s legs, except he was facing the other way.

Suddenly, Peter’s face went white. “Wait, Bucky please no.”

“Can I bake, Parker?” he asked, without looking at him.

Peter sighed, laying back down so he could save some of his energy. “No,” he answered plainly.

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky sighed.

Bucky didn’t make Peter wait any longer for his payback and all ten of his fingers began dusting across his socked soles. Peter was sent into immediate hysterics. He gave up trying to plead with him, but he couldn’t stop his body from rolling around the couch as continual giggles poured from his mouth. Every so often he would snort if Bucky got him with a particularly good method, or if he would stray upwards to his toes, but Bucky continued until Peter got all of the laughter out of him.

However, once the tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes, he let up. “Have you learned anything today?” he asked, getting up and sitting next to him. Peter stayed laying down, catching his breath. He noticed that someone must have lit the fire because he could hear something crackling.

“Not much,” he breathed out.

“I figured.” Bucky patted his knee. “But I’m always happy to teach you again.”

Peter jumped up from the couch, nearly taking his shin out on the coffee table, and Bucky laughed. “Not now, I’m not cruel.”

Peter raised his brows. “Okay, I’m not that cruel,” Bucky deadpanned. Peter glared at him, though he knew he didn’t really mean it.

He sat back down next to him. “You deserve payback for that.”

Bucky bumped his shoulder against him. “I don’t think so, I didn’t start it.”

A red light flashed through the living room. “I would beg to disagree.”

Peter and Bucky turned to see Steve on the ground. “Peter, care to join me?” Wanda asked, grinning.

Bucky attempted to run, but all it took was one flick from Wanda’s wrist and he was on the ground.

“Sam help!” Bucky yelled. Sam started running towards him, but abruptly came to a stop.

Wanda held an orb of dark red power in her hand, eyeing him carefully.

He held his hands up, walking backwards towards the kitchen. “No, thank you.” He grabbed a hold of a bowl. “Someone’s gotta keep stirring your soup.”

Wanda smiled, her nose scrunching up.

“Care to humble some super soldiers for the holidays?” Wanda asked. She twisted her magic and Steve burst into bright giggles.

Peter always knew it was best to keep the scarlet witch on his side. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

The tower was filled with laughter for quite some time, and lots of threats were said with no real violence behind them. When all was said and done, Peter was absolutely certain he was in for a very interesting winter break with his family.

Second author’s note: Hello my lovelies!! I know it’s been awhile since I uploaded on here, three years to be exact, but I had to come back for squealing Santa. Hopefully the fact that I’ve been working on my book has kept my fanfic skills in shape. While I can’t say I’m fully back to posting, I hope you enjoyed this, and I do have some other fics in the works. (Also if you read closely I put in an Easter egg for a future fic)

Taglist: @tenaciousperfectionunknown @teti-menchon0604 @tell-me-when-ur-ready

#quillsandtyposwrites #q&t marvel #marvel tickle fic #marvel tickle #marvel #lee!peter #Ler!bucky #ler!steve #Lee!wanda #ler!tony #marvel tickle fluff #bucky fluff #peter parker fluff #marvel tickle fanfiction #marvel tickle fanfics #tickle fanfic #ss2k24 #squealing santa 2k24

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