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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

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Dick’s

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: the only good part of your job at Dick’s Sporting Goods is how often Peter comes in to buy repairs for his suit

Masterlist

“Back so soon?”

“What?” Peter looked up and pulled his earbud out when he heard you say something. You chuckled when you heard the music coming through his earbuds and continued scanning the spandex shirt he was buying.

“You were here two nights ago.” You reminded him. “And four days before that. You’re here all the time, actually.”

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know that?” Peter blushed as you handed him the bag of his stuff. You looked around for anyone who might be listening before motioning for Peter to come closer. His blush deepened and he leaned across the register.

“I work here.” You whispered in his ear. You cracked a smile as you leaned back and pointed to the Dick’s Sporting Goods logo on your uniform shirt.

“Right.” He laughed shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all cool. I’m sorry that I work here too.” You shrugged, making Peter laugh again.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“The name of the store is Dick’s.” You said flatly. “And apparently, that’s the only kind of people they hire here.”

“Yeah. I asked someone for help finding the nuts and bolts and he asked if I looked in my mouth.” Peter admitted. Your jaw dropped in surprise before you burst out laughing.

“Who was it?” You asked him. “Did he have red hair?”

“Yeah. In the hardware section.”

“Fucking Jeremy. I’ll kick his ass for you, okay? I’m pretty sure he’s like 13 or something but I’ll still do it.” You said, and Peter couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

“That’s really not necessary.” He laughed shyly.

“All right.” You nodded. “Just know that I would. I’ve been looking for a reason to kick his ass anyway.”

“Why?” Peter wondered.

“Didn’t you see his face? It’s so punchable. Plus, he watches videos in the break room at full volume with no earbuds in. And if he thinks the video is funny, he’ll rewatch it multiple times. So then we all have to hear this loud, unfunny video multiple times. It drives me crazy. He deserves to get his ass kicked. I might do it just for fun now.”

“His face was pretty punchable.” Peter admitted.

“Can we hurry this up? This is taking way too long.” A man behind Peter complained, making your smile fall.

“That’s what she said.” You mumbled as you grabbed Peters receipt.

“To him.” Peter replied. You looked up at him and smiled in surprise.

“Because he’s probably bad at sex.” Peter explained in a weak voice.

“No, I got it. And I appreciated it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Peter laughed shyly.

“One last question for you. Then I have to help Mr. Clean with his very important purchase of golf ball cleaner.” You said as you nodded towards the guy behind Peter.

“Oh, sure. Ask away.”

“Are you listening to Judas by Lady Gaga?” You asked and pointed to Peters earbuds. He turned red in embarrassment and thought about lying, but you clearly already knew.

“It’s her best song.” He said simply.

“Oh, I know that.” You assured him. “I just wanted to make sure that you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He matched your tone, making you smile.

“Well all right then. Have a good night. See you really soon probably.” You teased him.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Peter smiled at you as he took his receipt.

Peter practically skipped out of Dicks that night. He frequented the store every time his suit needed a repair and had seen you working there a few times, forever looking miserable behind the cash register. He just never thought you’d notice him too.

A few nights later, Peter busted the eye on his mask while on patrol. He dropped his suit off at home and when to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get something to replace it. When he brought it up to the register to buy and smiled when he saw you.

“Hey.” You smirked at him and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Hey.” He smiled softly at you.

“Gum?”

“What?” He asked. You wordlessly held up a pack of Big League Chew and blew another bubble.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving.” He replied without thinking. He felt embarrassed for malign a stupid joke but you cracked up over it.

“I use that joke all the time.” You laughed. “Except I usually say “no thanks, I’m trying to quit.” I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I like yours better.” Peter tried to flirt.

“You can steal it. I won’t mind.” You winked at him and blew another big pink bubble. Peter gulped as you handed him his bag.

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You called after him as he left the store.

He returned a few days later, not that he needed anything. He was here for you this time. He came into the store at night with a plan to learn your name. It wasn’t much, but it was a step towards getting to know you better.

“Hey, Judas Boy.” You waved to Peter from behind the register.

“Hey, Dick’s girl.” He waved back and grabbed some spandex before heading to the register.

“Oh, thank God.” You said sarcastically. “You haven’t bough red and blue spandex shirts in almost a week. I was worried you were going to run out.”

“I almost did. This week has not been easy.” Peter humored you. You smiled when he played along and put his stuff into a bag.

“How come you guys don’t wear name tags?” Peter asked you as he put his plan into action.

“We’re supposed to. We’re also supposed to wear hard shoes and khaki pants.” You said behind your hand and pointed your foot out from behind the register to show him your leggings and crocs.

“I see. Not much of a rule follower?”

“I can be. But not for Dicks. Nothing for Dicks.” You said with such passion he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not.

“But where else can you find a spandex section like this?” Peter joked and held up his bag.

“Models. Target. Walmart. Patagonia.“ You started to list off.

“Okay, sure.” Peter agreed. “But Dicks is the only one that carries red and blue.”

“Oh, I see. And red is blue is the only kind you can buy?” You chuckled.

“Obviously. What am I supposed to wear? Black?” Peter grimaced, making you laugh again.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? I’ve always wondered that. Why could you possibly be doing that you need all this red and blue spandex clothing?”

“Cause I’m Spiderman.” Peter said with a simply shrug. He held his breath and hoped you take that as a joke, which of course, you did.

“That’s hot.” You smirked and handed him his receipt.

“Have a good night.” He told you.

“Night.”

Peter was back just a few nights later. He never actually learned your name, so he technically had an excuse to return. He brought a spandex shirt up to the register and you laughed when you saw it.

“I think you’re single handedly funding our red and blue spandex supply.”

“Really? I’m the only one who buys it?”

“Just you.” You nodded. “My boss said he wasn’t gonna order anymore but I told him that would be making one special customer very unhappy.”

“You told him to order more just for me?” Peter smiled shyly and felt his blush go all the way to his ears.

“Duh.” You scoffed. “I gotta earn that sweet, sweet $15 an hour somehow. Pleasing one specific customer is how I choose to do it.”

“$15 an hour to work by yourself every night is insane. But I don’t even get paid for my job, so I’m not one to talk.”

“What is your job?” You wondered.

“I told you. I’m Spiderman.”

“No, but really.” You laughed. Peter looked down at the spandex and tried to think of any other profession that could explain why he was always buying it.

“I’m a male ballerina.” He said finally.

“For real?” Your eyes widened. “That’s way cooler.”

“Cooler than Spiderman?”

“Hell yeah.” You scoffed. “I’ve never seen Spiderman do a pas de deux.”

“I’ve never seen anyone do a pack de- um…”

“Pas de deux.” You chuckled when he couldn’t say the word.

“Yeah. That.” He blushed again.

“Have a good night then, nutcracker.” You said with a wink.

“Night, Dick‘s girls.”

The next time Peter came into the store, he had to stay away from the spandex section. May was getting suspicious about why he was buying so much when his suit didn’t have any visible damage, so he had to think of something else.

“Gummy worms?” You asked as Peter dropped a bag of sour gummy worms on the counter.

“You sell them. So I’m buying them.” He shrugged. You laughed as you scanned it and looked up at him.

“Do you live around here?”

“About 4 blocks away.” He answered. “Why?”

“Because this is New York. Which means you had to have passed, at the very least, 4 corner stores to get here. All of which sell gummy worms. And yet, you chose to walk all the way to a sporting goods store to get them. Why is that?” You asked as you leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t need spandex tonight.” He admitted as a blush painted his cheeks.

“Then why’d you come out here?” You smirked.

“Because I’m a stalker. And I’m learning your schedule so I can smite you and wear your skin.” He replied without thinking. He held his breath again but was sure you would not find a joke about him killing you to be funny. But to his surprise, you smirked in amusement.

“That’s hot.” You said replied. “Can you cover my shifts for me once you start wearing my skin?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“Cool. Enjoy your worms.” You chuckled and handed him his candy. Peter was about to leave when he decided to rip open the bag and hand you a worm.

“For your troubles, madam.” He said, then made a dash for the door. He heard you laughing as he walked out into the street, making it all worth while.

Peter returned to the store the next day but felt his heart sink in disappointment when he didn’t see you behind the register. He turned to leave and jumped when you were standing right behind him.

“Have you ever seen Black Swan?” You asked him.

“What? Jesus Christ. You scared me.” He said and put his hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re a male ballerina, right? You must’ve seen Black Swan.”

“No. I’ve never heard of it.” Peter answered as his eyes darted to the side.

“That was the face of a man who has 100% seen lezzy wet dream scene from Black Swan.” You laughed and pointed to him.

“Maybe once or twice.” His whispered.

“Well I’m going on break now and I was gonna go watch it in the storage room.”

“Oh. That sounds fun.”

“You wanna come?” You asked him like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. Peter looked around to see if any customers or employees were watching before following you into the back. He knew he shouldn’t be walking through a door that said “employees only”, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to hang out with you.

“Am I allowed back here?” Peter whispered and stayed close behind you.

“Probably not.” You shrugged and led him to the storage room. You shut the door behind the two of you and sat down on one of the shelves.

“Will you get in trouble?” Peter asked as he took a seat beside you.

“Maybe.” You shrugged again and pulled the movie up on your phone.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your manager. I’d feel horrible.”

“Dude, my manger is 17 and high as a kite right now.” You snorted. “He won’t care as long as we don’t interrupt his vape session.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall. You shoulders were touching and he realized this was the closest you’d ever been.

“Here. I didn’t want to subject you to using a strangers earbuds so I stole this from the front.” You said as you pulled new earbuds out of your pocket. You tore them out of the plastic casing and plugged them into your phone before offering Peter one.

“They’re your favorite colors, right?” You asked in a soft voice. The earbuds were red and blue, the only colors Peter ever bought. They weren’t actually his favorite colors, just the color of his suit, but he thought it was cute that you specifically got this pair thinking he’d like the colors.

“Yeah. Red and blue are great.” He smiled softly and put his earbud in. You put the other in and started the movie. Peter couldn’t pay attention to a single second because the smell of your perfume was triggering all his senses. He stared at you instead of the screen until his eyes landed on the earbuds connecting you.

“I can’t believe you stole for me.” He said with a smug grin.

“Relax. I don’t do it often. But I did also steal these for you.” You said and pulled a pack of gummy worms out of your other pocket. Peters face lit up and he opened the worms before handing you one. Your fingers touched at one point when you both reached for a word and he gulped.

“When did you take these anyway?” He wondered.

“A couple hours ago when I first clocked in.” You replied. “I made sure to wait until I was on the company’s time before I took them. I don’t do anything here until I’m on the company’s time.”

“So you knew you were going to ask me to watch this with you when you first got here?” He asked as a smile crossed his face. You looked up from the movie and sheepishly turned to face him.

“You always come in at this time. And I’ve always wanted to see this movie. I figured you’d like it because you like ballet. Is that weird?” You asked, sounding nervous for the first time.

“No. It’s not weird.” Peter shook his head to assure you. You smiled in appreciation and nodded before turning back to the movie. Peter was able to focus on it now, but couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

“I love getting paid to watch gay movies.” You sighed happily as the movie neared its end.

“You need to make money somehow. God, I need a job. I’m gonna go broke from this store alone.”

“You’ve never looked at your receipt, have you?” You chuckled and looked over at him.

“No. Why?”

“Every time you come in here, I only charge you for tic tacs.” You admitted. “No matter what you buy, I just remove the tag and then scan a pack of wintergreen tic tacs.”

“Wait, seriously? Why?” He smiled curiously and turned to face you.

“Because then I can eat the tic tacs without feeling bad about stealing since you paid for them.” You shrugged. “And so that you don’t give all your money to Dick’s Sporting Goods just to fuel your spandex fetish. You only ever spend a dollar or so when you come here. I can’t believe you never realized that.”

“So you’ve been saving me money this whole time? Those shirts are like $15 each.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” You chuckled. “An hour of my work is worth a single, thin shirt. That makes me feel less guilty about never making you pay.”

“You’re really cool for that. Thanks.” Peter said sincerely.

“Yeah, well. I think you’re cool too.” You shrugged and looked down so he couldn’t see your smile. Peter stared at you with a dreamy smile on his face until he noticed the clock behind you.

“How long is your break?” He wondered.

“15 minutes.” You shrugged.

“15 minutes?! We’ve been back for over an hour.” Peter whispered harshly.

“Jeremys got it.” You waved your hand. “I cover for him all the time. He owes me.”

“Okay, good.” Peter sighed. “As long as you won’t get in trouble.”

“Will you stop worrying about me? I’ll be fine. You need to start breaking a few rules every now and then. Do you always do exactly what you’re expected to?”

“You’d be surprised.” Peter mumbled and debated telling you the reason he was always buying red and blue spandex. You noticed he had a far off look in his eyes and moved his chin to make him look at you.

“You never told me your name, by the way.” You said in a soft voice.

“It’s Peter.” He replied as his eyes dropped to your lips. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N!” Jeremey came barging into the m storage room, making you and Peter jump away from each other.

“Oh, there you are.” Jeremy smiled calmly. “Can you help me ring this guy up? He has a coupon but it’s expired.”

“So then he doesn’t have a coupon.”

“I know but he’s being really annoying about it and told me to get the manger but Kyle is vaping and said not to disturb him.” Jeremy whined.

“Damn, still? How long has this kid been vaping for? Are we even sure he’s alive?” Peter asked.

“Wait, who’s that?” Jeremy frowned and pointed to Peter. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look.

“That’s Peter. He works the night shift.” You said quickly.

“I’m Peter. I work the night shift.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t really care. You could’ve been back here smocking crack and sucking dick with a total stranger and I would not have batted an eye. Lord knows I’ve done it. But I do really need your help with the coupon.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You grumbled and got up to go follow Jeremy. Peter got up as well to let himself out.

“See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm before heading back to the register. Peter touched the part of his arm where you’d hand had been and smiled softly.

“See you later.”

Peter walked out of the store with a huge smile on his face. But loud noises coming from dumpster behind the store caught Peters attention. He climbed up the wall and walked along the roof so he could scope out what was going on. When Peter saw two guys trying to pick the lock to the back door, he quickly pulled his suit out of his backpack and put it on. He dropped down behind the two guys and cleared his throat when they didn’t hear him.

“Hey guys. I guess you didn’t see the front door. It’s right around the block under the huge, glowing sign that says Dick’s.” Peter said sarcastically. The guys stopped what they were doing and wiped around.

“Woah. It’s the Spiderman.” One of the guys gasped.

“Why do people always say “the” Spiderman?” Peter wondered. “It’s just Spiderman. I was very clear about that when I first started.”

“Let’s get this freak.” The other guy said and started walking towards Peter.

“Before we fight, I should let you guys know that two against one isn’t really fair when the one has web shooters.” Peter said as he raised his fists. His cocky smile disappeared when three more guys came out of the shadows and closed in on him. The five guys took turns punching and kicking Peter until he laid on the ground in a ball. He struggled to catch his breath and coughed up some blood as one of the guys delivered another kick to his stomach. One of them rolled him over and climbed on top of him with his fist raised in the air. Peter accepted his fate and was about to shut his eyes when a hammer, still in its package, came flying through the air and hit the guy in the head. The man grunted in pain and fell off of Peter. This gave Peter enough time to crawl away as more hammers were thrown in the direction of the men. Peter weakly looked up and saw you standing in the doorway with a bunch of hammers in your arms that you were haphazardly throwing at the men.

“Eat my hammer!” You yelled and threw another hammer at the head of one of the guys. Peter let out a weak laugh and clutched his side in pain.

“Dick’s girl?” He asked groggily.

“It’s Y/n.” You reminded him and threw another hammer. This time, one of the guys caught the hammer and started running towards you. Before Peter could get up to protect you, you pulled a bowling ball out from the floor beneath you and threw it at the guy. He was knocked to the ground as you pulled something else behind your bat. When you stepped under a streetlight, Peter as able to see you had taken a lacrosse stick from the store. You whacked one of the guys across the face so hard that he fell to the ground. You swept the leg of another guy, leaving only one standing. Peter held his aching body as you fearlessly walked up to the final goon.

“Spiderman over here is my friend. He’s one of the much, much friendlier Avengers. But not me. I’m fucking mental. I was trained in kung fu for the moment I could walk. I was raised to be a weapon. You don’t want to mess with me.” You said to the man as your rung the lacrosse stick in your hands.

“Oh please. I’ve taken shits bigger than you.” The man sneered and pointed to you. You smirked and caught his finger between your thumb and index finger while keeping your pinky upright.

“You see this? This is called the Wuxi Finger hold. If I bend my pinky, your chi is gonna be so fucked that all the bones in your body will break and half this block will be decimated.” You told him

“You’re bluffing.” He scoffed. “That’s not possible.”

“You wanna find out?” You asked and tightened your grip on his finger. The man’s eyes flicked between your face and his finger as he debated whether or not he believed you.

“This chick is crazy. Let’s get out of here.” The guys finally decided and took off running. The four others groaned as the got up and ran away as well. You sighed and threw the bloody lacrosse stick into the dumpster before looking down at Peter.

“So you’re not a male ballerina?”

“No. I’m Spiderman.”

“That’s not as cool.” You mumbled and bent down to help him sit up fully.

“Can you really break all his bones with one finger?” Peter asked you.

“Huh? Oh, no.” You chuckled. “I stole that shit from Kung Fu Panda. Those ska-douches clearly don’t have good taste in movies so they didn’t even realize.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled weakly. “Well, thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Come on.” You winked at him and carefully helped him stand up. You wrapped his arm around you and helped him limp his way into the break room. You raided the sports injury aisle before helped Peter up onto a table.

“Am I allowed to be back here?” Peter asked as he pulled his mask off.

“No one’s gonna know. Kyles vaping in the baseball aisle and Jeremy went home.” You said and set the supplies you had taken down on the table beside him.

“Are you allowed to take those?”

“You are quite a rule follower for the face of illegal vigilanteism, you know that?” You chuckled and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m actually not a vigilante. I’m on Mr. Starks roster. We have government clearance.”

“Okay. So just tell yourself I have government clearance to steal these supplies.” You told him, making him laugh. You laughed as well and started to clean him up. Peter stared at you fondly as you patched up his wounds.

“I really appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m in charge of filling out the inventory catalogues when we get shipments. I can easily make it look like these supplies never existed. Don’t worry, okay? And even if I do get in trouble, it’ll be worth it.” You said without looking at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Peter asked softly. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because I like you.” You shrugged. “I think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

“Is that shocking?” You laughed and cleaned a cut above his eyebrow.

“Kinda. I’m kinda a loser.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see any losers out there tonight. You know, other than those five losers trying to break into a Dick’s sporting goods. I’m really glad all the golf pencils and eye paint are safe.” You said sarcastically. Peter laughed and rested his hands on your hips.

“I like you too, by the way.”

“You do?” You asked skeptically.

“A lot, actually. Sometimes, I don’t even need anything. I just come here and hope you’re working.”

“Well I asked my boss to only schedule me at night because you never come in during the day.” You playfully one upped him.

“Really? You did that because of me?” He smiled fondly.

“You coming in here is the only good thing about this place.” You answered honestly.

“You’re the only reason I come.” Peter told you.

“Ayo.” You snickered.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It was funny.”

“No you know why I’m always in here buying spandex and random things. I bust up my suit a lot and the guy who made it for me isn’t around anymore.”

“It’s a pretty cool suit. I can’t even tell where you’ve patched it up. I guess our spandex is just really high quality.”

“You got some pretty cool clothes yourself. Not everyone can pull off Hunter green.”

“Wanna see something?” You asked and unzipped the green Dick’s zip up on had on to reveal a black T- shirt underneath that read “I heart Dick’s” with the stores logo in the heart.

“I heart dicks? No way that’s a real uniform.” Peter laughed and pulled on your shirt to read it better.

“Yep. I couldn’t believe it either. I guess the Boomers that make our uniforms don’t see penis humor in everything like our generation does. I tried to tell my boss that these shirts were ridiculous but he said he’d fire me if I didn’t wear it. Even though I literally hate Dick’s.”

“You do?”

“Not that kind of dick.” You laughed. “I meant the store. If this place burned down, I wouldn’t pee on it to put it out. In fact, I probably started the fire.”

“Then why don’t you quit?”

“I need a job.” You shrugged. “And they’re super understaffed so they give me a lot of hours. Plus, if I left, how would I see you?”

“We could hang out. Preferably not in a Dick’s sporting goods.” Peter suggested.

“That’s my favorite place to hang out.” You smiled. “Can I give you my number?”

“I mean, if you want.” Peter joked as he handed you his phone. You put his number in and handed it back to him.

“There. That’s my number.”

“It’s hot.” He said as he looked at it. He gulped and looked up at you, thinking you’d find that weird.

“You’re such a weirdo.” You chuckled. “You better text me.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” You said and poked his chest. Peter stared at you for a moment as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Would it be weird if we kissed right now?” He asked you.

“Yes.” You scoffed. “You’re covered in blood and gravel.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” He blushed in embarrassment and nodded his head. You cracked a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. Peter felt love in that Dick’s Sporting Goods that night. It was all around him. The kiss ended sooner than he would’ve liked, but it was still perfect.

“Hey, you did it anyway.” He smiled in surprise.

“Yeah, well. I wanted to.” You laughed shyly and kept your arms around his neck.

“And then she kissed me anyway. And she got Neosporin all over her face. And my blood! It was insane, Ned. I wish you could’ve seen her with the lacrosse stick. She destroyed so much store property. It was incredible.” Peter jumped in excitement as he recanted the story to Ned the next day.

“You had your first kiss in Dicks sporting goods?” Ned whispered in awe.

“Uh huh.” Peter nodded.

“What are you guys talking about?” Flash asked as he stuck his head between Peter and Ned.

“Nothing.” Peter said quickly and gave Ned a look.

“Peter kissed the hot Dicks cashier.” Ned blurted.

“Ned!” Peter whispered harshly. “Why would you tell him that?”

“You kissed Alejandro?” Flash gasped and looked jealous.

“What? No. Who even is that?”

“I know all the Dicks sporting goods employees by name. I’m in there all the time buying golf and tennis and bad mitten shit because I’m rich as fuck. If it wasn’t Alejandro, then who was it?” Flash questioned.

“Her name is Y/n. She works the closing shift.” Peter told him.

“Wait, the one with the rebellious gleam in her eyes? No way you kissed her.” Flash snorted. “I’ve been trying to get her number for months.”

“Really? Because I got it last night.” Peter replied with a shrug.

“And a smooch.” Ned added. “On the mouth.”

“He knows where, Ned.” Peter whispered without taking his eyes off Flash.

“There is no way in hell that Penis Parker was macking on a hot cashier. And at Dick’s sporting goods no less.” Flash laughed loudly, drawing the attention of students passing by.

“It’s true.” Peter insisted. “And I don’t care if you believe me or not. Because I know it’s real.”

“Wow. You hear that, everybody? Penis Parker has a fake girlfriend!” Flash shouted in the hallway. People stopped to laugh and point at Peter, making him turn red.

“What? No I don’t.”

“He’s pretending he had a girlfriend who works at Dicks Sporting Goods to make up for the fact that no one will ever touch his dicks sporting goods.” Flash said even louder.

“Oh my God. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Peter grumbled and Ned followed after him as he left. Once they were out of the crowd, Peter pulled his phone out and looked over your last conversation.

“Do you think it’s weird she hasn’t texted me back in a while?” He asked Ned.

“Well what was the last thing you guys talked about?”

“We were in the middle of a conversation about the best Adam Sandler movie and she ghosted me.” Peter said as he checked the time. Your shift had definitely started by now and he knew you texted on company time.

“Is she working tonight?”

“Yeah. Closing shift.”

“So go visit her.” Ned shrugged.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Peter worried.

“She wouldn’t have kissed you if she didn’t like you.” Ned reminded him.

“I guess so. Okay. I’ll go see her after class.”

Once Peters last class ended, he pulled out his phone to call you as he walked in the direction of your store. You answered the phone but didn’t say anything.

“Hey. I was just thinking of you.” Peter said into the phone.

“Peter.” You whispered in a shaky voice. He could tell you were crying and froze in his tracks.

“I was planning on stopping by. Is everything okay?” He asked and quickened his pace in the direction of the store.

“No. I don’t think you should come in.” You said quietly. Peter stopped walking and felt his heart sink. You must’ve lost feelings after the kiss and didn’t want to hang out anymore.

“Oh. Oh, okay. No problem. I won’t come by.” He said and tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

“But maybe your friend can come in?” You asked, making his senses tingle.

“My friend?” He asked and started towards the store again.

“Yeah. The ballerina.” You replied and he knew exactly what you meant. Peter stopped in an alleyway to throw on his suit before running towards the store.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You said with a forced laugh.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Who are you talking to? Is that a phone? I said all phones in the bag.” Peter heard from your end of the phone. You hung up after that and Peter raced to the store. When he got there, he snuck in through the back and quietly made his way to the front. He found you behind the register with your hands up in the air as a man in a hulk mask stood in front of you.

“Hey, buddy. Let me guess. The last jock strap you bought was too loose you’re back for another one?” Peter said, making the guy whip around. That’s when Peter saw the gun in his hand and froze.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see the gun from behind.” Peter said and put his hands in the air. He made eye contact with you from behind the register and you mouthed that you were sorry.

“Why don’t you walk out of here and pretend you didn’t see anything, okay pal?” The man said as he pointed the gun back at you.

“Sorry sir, but I can’t do that. You see, I’m quite taken with the cashier you’re holding at gunpoint here.” Peter said and pointed to you. You let out a short laugh as tears fell down your face.

“Good. Then you can watch me blow her head to bits.” The man said and took a step towards you. You let out a little squeak in fear and shut your eyes.

“Can I convince you to reconsider? She’s got a great head. I’d hate to see it get blown off.” Peter said calmly and slowly made his way towards the man.

“I said you could take the money. Just take it and leave.” You pleaded with the man.

“There was only $36.62 in there. I didn’t rob store for less than 40 bucks.” The man shouted at you.

“No one uses cash anymore.” You whimpered. “It’s all Apple Pay.”

“Then tell me the combination to the safe.” He yelled and tightened his grip on the gun.

“I don’t remember it.” You cried. “I don’t listen when my boss talks to me.”

“You’re lying! I know you know.”

“Why would I lie? You think I’d risk my life to protect this store? I hate this store. It’s so stupid. Why is it called Dick’s? Who is Dick?”

“She’s making some excellent points.” Peter agreed.

“Both of you shut up! Give me the combination to the safe now or I’ll shoot you both.”

“I don’t know it!” You exclaimed. “I don’t even know the address to this place.”

“You think this is funny?” The man asked and took a step closer to you to the gun was pressed against your forehead.

“Not right now but I probably will later.” You answered honestly.

“That’s it. You’re dead.” The man said and cocked his gun.

“No!” Peter exclaimed as he dove towards you. He knocked you safely onto the ground while the man shot him three times in the chest. You screamed as Peter fell to the ground in a thud. You were about to reach for him when he jumped back up on his feet.

“Just kidding! It’s bulletproof.” Peter said cheerfully as he shot a web at the man’s gun. He yanked it out of his hand and threw it to the side before shooting two more webs that stuck the man’s arms to his sides and glued his legs to together. The man fell to the ground and tried to break free, but was unsuccessful. Peter shot one last web at the man’s face before pulling his mask off. He turned around to ask you if you were okay and was immediately met by you throwing your arms around him. He pulled his mask off before hugging you back tightly until your breathing calmed down.

“How did you know you were bullet proof?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “I just knew that you weren’t.”

You pulled away to stare at him in disbelief, almost looking angry with him for risking his life for you. Your angry expression melted into a look of awe.

“Thats hot.” You said and threw your arms around him to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and held you tighter, only breaking apart when you needed to catch your breath.

“Do you kiss all your local cashiers like that?” You asked him.

“Nope.” He chuckled. “Just you.”

“Good. You better keep it that way.”

Peter smiled and pressed his forehead against yours as you both calmed down from all the excitement when a thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really not know the combination to the safe or were you protecting the store?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Are you accusing me of risking my life to protect Dick’s Sporting Goods from a robbery?” You pretended to be offended and put your hand over your heart.

“No. But I am accusing you not telling that guy the safe combination just to mess with him.” Peter replied. A smirk crossed your face as you went over to the safe and put in the combination.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for a bit.” You said as you pulled the safe open.

“I knew it.” Peter laughed and shook his head.

“I was planning on telling you something tonight. You know, before I got held at gunpoint by a man shorter than I am.” You said as you walked back over to Peter.

“Oh really? What?”

“They’re making me store manager. That means you can get all the free spandex and gummy worms you want.”

“No way.” Peter grinned. “They promoted you?”

“Kinda.” You waved your hand. “The last store manger went to jail for insider trading and I’m the only other employee over 18.”

“But still! I’m so proud of you.” He said and scooped you into a hug.

“You know, when they promoted me, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” You admitted. Peter pulled away to cup your face and smile at you.

“I’m honored. No one in this shamble of a store deserved it more than you.”

“I can make my own hours now because it’s my job to make the schedule. So let me know when you want to go on our first date that isn’t in a Dick’s sporting goods.” You smiled teasingly.

“I will.” He smiled back before getting serious. He blew out a breath and looked you in the eye.

“Dick’s girl, I have so enjoyed our time together. Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend maybe?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe I would.” You shrugged. “But only if you never call me “Dick’s girl” again.”

“I can definitely do that.” Peter nodded and kissed you again. The kiss was interrupted by the sound of cops pulling up in front of the store.

“Cops are here. I gotta go.” Peter said apologetically and pulled his mask back on.

“Bye, Spiderman!” You waved at him as he walked towards the front door.

“Bye, Dick’s girl!” He shouted back before swinging off into the night.

“What did Spiderman just call you?” The police officer as he walked into the store.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure

@a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23

@geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow

@thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe

@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174

@unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl

@marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke @thestylestour

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @parkerlovebot

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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marksbear2 · 4 months ago

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Hii I was wondering if you would write for TASM peter. Also would you write the smut ABC's for any characters because I haven't seen one for him and I'd love to see it (specifically from nwh for this)

PETER PARKER X MALE READER

This is my first time ever writing one of these!! Uhm so I’m still struggling with my mental health and stuff but I promised that I’ll be back before the 23rd so here I am!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very shocked but like in the goofy awkward way. He likes to cuddle and hold you close while smiling ear to ear. He likes to tell you his favorite things you did.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands, to hold and grip you close and close with him. He likes your arms the way you hold him tightly and he likes seeing your arms flex, also your back.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes facials, both receiving and giving them. He’s let you shoot your cum on his face and especially when he wears his glasses.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere publicly but safe. Like in the bathroom stall during school or alone at night in the park.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None, the only experience he has was watching porn. Lmao.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary or mating press, anything that you two are close enough to make eye contact and to kiss.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

At first when you two just start out having sex he’ll let out nervous chuckles. But as you two get closer he’ll crack a joke here and there while moaning.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not that wildly bushy but he is hairy, but it’s neat and sometimes trimmed. But on some occasion yes he is bushy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Completely focused on you like he’s in a trance, nothing else crosses his mind only you. He wants to see you and be close with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off pretty often, whenever you two are alone but too tired to have sex you’ll two will jerk one another off, maybe edging to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves roleplaying, you or him could wear his Spider-Man suit while the other would be a fan or villain. Or other roleplays like jock and nerd.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your room, or the living room on the couch. He can get off doing literally anywhere so

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hearing you say his name, hearing his name roll off your tongue, he’ll already be ready for the next round it doesn’t matter who’s the top.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Someone watching or like being cucked. He would literally crash out because he thinks the thought of s someone watching is embarrassing but someone actually wanting to have sex with you makes him wanna commit.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving head, he’ll be under the table or blanket sucking you off until your dick literally can’t cum anynore.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the moment, when you two both are okay and happy he would fuck you or take it in a fast but deep pace but when you two aren’t okay he likes to take it slow as deep but very gentle.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He actually likes quickies, he would try to get off as fast as he could. You two probably do it moe often then most would.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willingly to take risk and try out new things no matter how confusing or scary it’ll be. He has an ‘You only live once’ type of mindset.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Four maybe six, he can take a lot even if your extremely rough with him. But after a long and hard rough day of hero work maybe only one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns rope and such, it’s for either of you two be tied up he doesn’t really care. Sometimes he’d use his web slinger to tie you up onto something so it’s sturdy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease, he’ll give you flirty signals and winks and make innocent things like drinking water seem dirty.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s pretty loud, he whines and moans while he gasps a lot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Whenever he’s super exhausted he would cockwarm you, you could softly thrust into him or not and just hold and cuddle him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s one of those skinny guys with a expressive dick. He’s about 5’4 inches when he’s soft and an solid 8 in when he’s hard. He’s an real grower.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s very horny, he’s not a pervert or anything but when your in the mood he’ll be in the mood to. He’s buzzing with easy arousal.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep because he’s just yapping about how much he likes having sex with you and such but when you two are finally getting quiet he’ll drift to sleep in your arms.

THE END

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male y/n #amab reader #x top male reader #x gn reader #x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter Parker x male reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #the bear club

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creative-caramel-coffee · 3 months ago

Text

Parkers, Pots & Periods

Summary: Reader is Peter’s sister and is going on a field trip to stark industries, the catch? She’s on her period and has POTS… things go badly and Wanda and Nat step in to take care of you.

Words: 2324

TW: Periods, Pain, nausea (no puking), POTS, Cramps, Bullying, fainting, name calling, Flash (that’s its own warning), Flashes “nicknames” for peter, field trip trope.

A/n Hi guys I’m alive! Sorry for disappearing (kinda). My life is chaos incarnate. I accidently got stabbed in the thigh yesterday. But I stuck an avengers Band-Aid on it and I was fine :D

Somehow the universe decided to screw your over three times today. The first, you had POTS, whilst not a new condition it did make the next two things worse. Second you had a trip to stark towers which meant a lot of standing on a tour and being around your class and knowing the avengers would be lurking nearby. And third, the real icing on the cake … you were on your period as if you had blood to lose as someone with POTS and a low blood volume to start with.

So that was how you were doing today as you arrived at school. Sure, you had graduated about three years ago but there had been talks that someone had found out Peter’s identity and was planning something, which was how you ended up undercover to be a glorified bodyguard for peter… well a glorified babysitter with homework. You had been chosen by the team as you were the second youngest next to Peter and as a lesser-known member of the team who was young, you could pass as a high school student without raising suspicions. ‘Yay me.’ You thought sarcastically. Leaving high school was amazing and having to go back to babysit your little brother… not so much.

You skipped training this morning as you were already feeling quite awful due to your period and your POTS which was always made worse when it was shark week.

As you arrived at school with Peter, happy dropped you both at the block around the corner and you shouldered your old school backpack and sighed.

“Let’s get this over with.” You grumbled and peter nodded. Neither of you feeling particularly excited to go on a trip through your own house with classmates who hated you.

Peter was just as unhappy; flash had been giving him shit all week for his internship and wanted desperately to prove the Parker boy a liar today. When you had found out about the bullying you almost intervened before Peter had a talk with you. He reminded you of what uncle ben had said to you both before he died, and your eyes glossed over as you made the decision to respect his wishes and promise to your late uncle.

As your shoes slapped the pavement with exaggerated steps and dragging movements, a grin itched your face when Ned began waving to you from across the quad. MJ looked up and gave a single half handed wave cross salute before going back to her sketchbook, her legs kicked up on the picnic table.

You liked MJ and Ned. They had welcomed you to their group and they knew that you had already graduated but agreed to stay quiet if it meant keeping peter safe. They both knew you and your brothers’ real identities. As the second spider that protected the city aside from your brother and Natasha you had decided to keep your identity quiet until Peter graduated, knowing he would have just as many issues with the press if you were unmasked before he graduated compared to him being unmasked.

You threw your backpack down and threw your head into your arms, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“You feelin’ alright bonehead?” MJ said looking up from her sketch.

You simply grunted before turning your head, still resting on your arms to look at her through a furrowed brow.

“Shark week.” Was all you said, and MJ nodded before turning to her bag and digging around before fishing out a chocolate bar she threw at your head. Your spider sense kicked in and your hand flew up and caught it.

“Thanks MJ.” You grunted.

“Anytime Parker.” She said going back to her sketchbook. You leaned over to glance at the page and snorted. MJ simply suppressed a grin and kept working on the detailed drawing of Flash trapped in a display case at stark towers with a placard that read “Bullied Peter Stark, glass tapping encouraged.” With a drawing of Tony leaning on the display case eating a banana with Nat handing out tomatoes to the rest of the team to throw at flash. Leave it to MJ to make this trip better.

You thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But curse your Parker luck because that was the moment flash began to storm over. MJ quickly shut her sketchbook as flash stood over Peter.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t penis Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to show up today. With your big lie going public today I thought you would be too much of a wuss to show up. Prepare to be publicly humiliated Parker. Today is the day your life is torn to shreds.” He said.

“Like the lie about you having a brain flash ‘cuz I think everyone knows that’s fake.” MJ said flicking a few pencil shavings at him. She glared at him, and he glared back before huffing.

“Whatever idiots. I’ll see you on the bus. Parker don’t forget I would hate for you to miss your public execution.” He spat and headed off to wherever it was Flash lurked between tormenting Peter.

“Petey…” you began.

“No y/n I’m handling it.” He said shutting you down.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll leave it alone.” You said while silently wishing a piano to miraculously fall on flash. You desperately wanted to help but you also wanted to respect Peter’s decision especially as you knew his reason was fuelled by a very personal experience that had changed both of you tremendously.

As the last class before the field trip ended you felt like death warmed over. Your head hurt and your period was only making your POTS worse. As you stood from your chair, you had to hold onto the table as your vision went fuzzy for a second. When your sight cleared Peter shot you a pointed look which you shrugged off and headed for the bus.

If there was one thing you didn’t miss from high school it was field trips, twenty sweaty teenagers in a bus for who knows how long, most likely with no air conditioning which would only contribute to you feeling worse. None of that was appealing to you in the slightest.

As you all filed onto the bus you groaned when you sat down, putting your head in your hands, and taking deep breaths. The cramps had been getting worse all day and they were toeing the line of unbearable.

MJ sat next to you and kept a close eye on your movements or lack thereof.

As the bus lurched with the traffic you suppressed any of the wounded animal noises that were trying to escape you.

After what seemed like a torturously long bus trip you felt the bus slow to a stop. Looking outside the logo of stark towers was the first thing your eyes fixed on.

As everyone filed off the bus you swayed slightly trying to fight off the dizzy lightheaded mess along with the cramping. Life really wasn’t being kind to you.

With a hand resting around your stomach, you watched Peter sidestep flashes foot and walk inside.

The building was cool when you entered which made you feel a tiny bit better but still largely awful.

As the tour guide passed out the lanyards you and Peter hung around in the back.

“I bet puny Parker won’t even have a lanyard, he’s too poor to be let in.” Flash said nearby and your fist tightened at your side in an attempt to stay there.

When all the passes were handed out Flash was the first to point out you and Peter didn’t have one.

“Hey! The Parker’s are missing their badges. We’ll have to leave them behind. Sorry no poor people allowed.” He said with a big grin and Peter looked like a deer in headlights as everyone turned to face the two of you. You just shrugged.

“Friday?” The tour guide asked. “Has there been a mistake?”

“Ms Parker and Mister Parker do not require badges as they have tier 10 clearance, access is granted to all floors, labs and rooms.” A voice said from the ceiling startling a few people.

“That’s Friday.” The tour guide explained “she’s tony starks AI and she runs the tower.”

“I don’t know how you hacked the system, but you will pay Parker’s.” Flash said sticking a finger in Peter’s face.

“Whatever flash, you’re just mad that you have level 1 clearance and can’t go in the toilets without permission.” MJ said as flash stormed off after the group.

As the tour progressed you were feeling worse and worse, all this walking was making the cramps worse, and all the standing was aggregating your POTS. Your vision had been spotty for a while now and your legs hurt. Your midsection was cramping something awful, and you saw no end in sight.

As the group was shown to the museum floor you did your best to stay rooted to your body as your head felt like it was floating away.

“Y/n/n you should really go home. If you sneak off upstairs, I’ll cover for you.” Peter said and MJ nodded.

“I know your white girl, but you’re not meant to be that white… ever.” MJ said and you shot her a small glare with did nothing to deter her.

“Can’t I have to stay with Peter.” You said swallowing down the nausea you had begun to feel.

“I can look out for myself.” He said in a soft tone. But you shook your head which was a terrible idea as you swayed, having to lean on the wall the stay upright.

“Right, that’s enough….” Peter begun but your hearing was fading as Peter seemed to keep talking.

As your hearing and vision began to drift away Peter began softly alerting Friday to the situation, as he requested Wanda of Natasha to come and get you.

As he saw a flash of red hair down the hall, his spider sense flared, and he was just in time to catch you as your body finally gave up and went slack.

Natasha seemed to arrive almost at the same time you passed out into Peter’s arms.

The group had moved on and it seemed they were none to wiser to the avenger’s presence.

Peter looked panicked for a second as he held you up.

“I’ve got her Pete.” Natasha said as she picked you up effortlessly into a bridal carry. “Go catch up with your group Wanda and I will look after her. Don’t worry.”

“Alright. Text me updates.” He said and Natasha nodded dutifully before carrying you to the elevator.

When she arrived back on your floor that you shared with the two redheads, you shifted in her arms, letting out a small whimper.

Natasha walked over to the door to her room, opening it to see Wanda already having everything set up for a movie day.

“Oh my god is she ok? I know Peter said it was bad but … is she out?” Wanda said coming over and fussing.

“She passed out as I got there. She must be feeling terrible.” Nat said as she set you down on the bed gently. Wanda came and sat next to you as Nat changed into some comfy clothes and took to your other side.

Wanda’s hands carding through your hair was the first thing you registered when you came to.

“Nat, I think she’s coming around.” Wanda said softly.

You let out a small, wounded noise as you tucked your knees to your chest in an attempt to stave off the relentless cramps.

“Shhh y/n/n it’s ok. Natty and I have you baby. You’re alright.” Wanda said softly.

You whimpered again and shifted to clutch your midsection.

“Cramps?” Wanda asked knowingly still playing with your hair.

“Mmm.” You said softly.

Before you knew it a hot pack was being slid onto your stomach and your muscles went lax as Wanda pulled you into her lap.

You opened an eye and saw her smiling down at you.

“Hello sweet girl. How are you feeling.” She said gently.

“Bad.” You hummed.

“Chocolate?” Natasha said as she offered you an already unwrapped chocolate bar. Not bothering to use your hands you began eating it while Nat still held it. Making her smile softly in amusement as she fed you the chocolate.

“Oh my god, I left Peter!” You said scrambling to sit up but Wanda kept you pinned.

“It’s alright baby. Fridays watching him and you’re in no condition to be doing anything other than cuddling and watching movies with us. Ok?” Wanda said. She could see the gears turning behind your eyes and gently turned your chin to look at her.

“Okay sweet girl?” She said again.

“Okay.” You said softly.

“Excellent. Now you pick the first movie.” Wanda said as Natasha returned with popcorn despite you not having seen her leave.

As the day went on you began to feel better. Between the salty popcorn Wanda was feeding you and the blue electrolyte drinks that were stocked in Natasha’s mini fridge you began to feel less terrible.

The girls had everything you needed, from a warm heat pack to chocolate to cuddles. You eventually drifted off feeling warm and only slightly in pain. Knowing you were safe with them.

@barbarasstar @charlie56 @vlynes @lovelyy-moonlight

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raisedbythetv89 · 7 months ago

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The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

#spuffy #spike btvs #meta #btvs meta #spike and buffy meta #spike btvs meta #spuffy meta #also every spuffy I know shares so much life experiences and personality traits with buffy herself like we are often making choices #and judgements about the narrative from the perspective of buffy herself & we’re all picking spike #so many people who pick other love interests truly so often rarely see buffy for who she is either #if you don’t get spuffy you don’t truly understand buffy herself

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 24 days ago

Text

Late Bloomer 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

You look at the grade on your quiz. It’s not the end of the world but it isn’t the best. And this course is negligible in the scheme of your degree, yet, you thought you were really getting this. It’s disappointing and you can do better. You will.

As class lets out, you head down the centre aisle past the fleeing coeds. Most don’t stick around after the intense lectures. The whiteboard still shows the chaos of formulas as the professor closes his Mac. You approach nervously.

“Professor Parker,” you greet.

He turns and knocks over the cup of whiteboard markers. “Ah gee.”

He rights the cup and you bend to catch the scatter that roll around your feet. He does the same on his side of the table. As you stand and slide them back into their place, he bats away a pesky curl form his forehead. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and gives a sheepish smile. You could cringe. He’s a professor and you just know he’s younger than you.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he grabs the cup as he shoves the rest of the markers inside. “How’s it going?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s good. I was just...” you stop yourself. “I think I forgot your office hours. I was just going to ask for a little help going over my quiz but I don’t want to keep you--”

“No, it’s fine,” he rattles the cup of markers then makes himself still. “I can help you know.”

“Oh, okay,” you lay your quiz on the table. “I think I did pretty good but 4a really messed me up,” you flip the page and point.

He leans to look over your work. He gently pushes aside the pen cup and reaches to his ear. He frees the pen behind it and bends over the table. He puts his weight on one elbow. You loom over him, crouching to watch him.

He reaches up to pat his hair then pinches the arm of his glasses and chuckles, “already on. Oops.”

You realise he’d been looking to pull his glasses down to his nose. He reminds you of Cerise sometimes. Come to think of it, she might do with a prescription herself.

“Okay, I think I see what happened,” he taps with the tip of the pen. “Missed a step here.” You focus on the ink scrawling over in his tight writing. “But you were on the right track.”

You take in his explanation patiently. When he looks up at you, his brown eyes surprise you. They're almost sparkling.

“Right, thanks, I get it now,” you say. “Next time I’ll go over my work twice.”

“Never hurts,” he stands and flips the front page over. He lifts it and hands it over. “You’ll be fine. It’s second year. Got my engineering degree no problem after flunking a course. Just had to put in a summer course.”

“Oh, I’m not an engineering student,” you say. “But I do need the elective.”

“No? Pretty good for not an engineering student.”

“Art,” you supply.

“Art? Wow. Not what I expected.” He muses.

“I know. I’m gonna be working at a Starbucks in no time,” you kid.

“No, that’s not... fair,” he protests. “What kinda art? Like, er, do you paint or whatever?”

“I like to paint. Sketch... working on clayworks in one of my studios.” You say, “actually, I think you’ll laugh.”

You bring your bag up and tuck away the quiz as you pull out your notebook. You open it and show him that day’s note. The margins are full of aimless doodles.

“Oh, wow,” he admires your careless scribbles. “Bet you make all sorts of cool things. I’m not very good at drawing.” He glances over his shoulder at the whiteboard, “don’t know if it’s obvious.”

His writing is narrow and bit all over but it’s legible.

“Not that bad,” you assure him as you close up the notebook. “I meant to ask, how’s your leg?”

“My leg? Oh yeah. It’s healing. Can’t say the same for the khakis. Lost cause,” he sighs.

“Oh,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “well, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

“I swear, they built this place like a death trap. Too many stairs,” he clucks.

You chuckle, “yeah, I could go for a bit less... but wouldn’t that be an engineer’s thing?”

“Architects help...” He says defensively.

“Alright, alright, I’m just kidding,” you haul your bag onto your shoulder.

“Hey, I would argue we need some artists to pretty these things up. Buildings are so boring these days. You know, I went to Italy, all those marble columns and statues...” he says. “Not that I’m bragging. Just an observation I made. I went to some museums and saw paintings too. The DiCaprios... No Da Vinci! Oh god!” He slaps his forehead in embarrassment, “my brain is fried, I’m sorry.”

“All good,” you assure him, “we’re all feeling it, I think.” You step back on your heel, “anyway, I think I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for the help.”

“Any time. Everyone else runs away from me,” he says. “I’m still getting used to this ‘Professor’ thing.”

“Well, you’re a really good teacher,” you assure him, “I should go.”

“Right, see ya next class,” he says.

“Sure, see ya then,” you give a tiny wave and retreat.

You turn and climb the centre stairs to the rear exit. You open the door and glance back. He’s watching you. Caught, he coughs and turns back to the board and searches for the erase. He starts to wipe out the numbers and you leave him to his clean up.

You have time before you can stop by the studio. Enough to eat something or get a coffee. It’s only week two and you’re wondering how you’re going to get through the rest of it. Especially with your overnight shifts in between.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #late bloomer #au #professor au #spider-man #captain america #mcu #marvel #avengers

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hii again

So after thinking it over, I'd like to humbly request Peter Parker with a reader who casually mentions one time (maybe even before they're dating) that her love language it physical affection

After that, Peter makes sure to always touch her, hold her hand, kiss her, etc

Thank you so much!!

-🔮

Hi my love, sorry it took me a bit to get to this! Thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy it :D

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

“Hi pretty girl,” Peter calls as he comes in the door. “How was your day?”

You grin, going to meet him in the living room, where Peter sweeps you into his arms for a kiss. You laugh against his lips. “It was good. How about yours?”

He holds you to his front with one arm, chucking his backpack into the corner with the other before dragging the both of you down onto the couch. “Awful,” he laments, bespeckling your neck and shoulder with kisses. “So long without you. I was cold.”

“My poor boy,” you coo sympathetically, rolling over so you’re facing him and combing your fingers through his hair. “Get any bad guys?”

“Tons of bike thieves. Nothing interesting.”

“Hey, bike theft is a serious crime,” you argue. “If I were a college student or a delivery person, I would be very glad you were on the streets today.”

Peter’s forefinger traces a path from your temple to your chin. “But you’re you, so you missed me, right?”

“I did.” It’s no big admittance. You make it obvious enough. “I always miss you.”

He laughs, tilting your chin upwards and pecking you on the lips. “You miss hugs and kisses, not me.” His free hand begins roving your back as though to drive the point home.

“I miss you, and the hugs and kisses,” you counter. “I would still miss you without them, though.”

Peter raises his eyebrows, hands stilling as though to call your bluff. It takes some serious effort not to pout. “Oh yeah?” His voice is lilting, eyelashes pinching at the corners. “You think you could still love me if we never touched?”

“Of course I could,” you laugh.

“You really think so?”

“Easily.”

Peter whistles. “Bold words for someone whose love language is physical touch.”

You blink, going from teasing to confused in the space of a second. “How’d you know that?”

“Uh, you told me,” he says, grinning.

“What? When?”

“I dunno…like, a couple weeks after we started hanging out? Before we were dating. We were talking about personality tests, comparing results and whatever, and you said your top love language, by far, was physical touch.”

“Oh.” You don’t remember that at all. “Is it yours, too?”

Peter’s answering grin is borderline sheepish. “It’s a close second. My first is acts of service.”

“Huh.” Of course it is. It’s almost funny, that you’d ever thought Peter’s love language could be anything else. So why had he been the one touching you all this time? You don’t hold back with the physical affection either, but you’ve never been the first one to reach for Peter’s hand, or open your arms for a hug, or move in for a kiss. Peter’s always there, ready for you to give him the signal. Ever since your first date, his hands have been on you constantly, keeping you close. Even before that, when his touches were more chaste, they were still there. He’d link arms with you in crowds or squeeze your shoulder when you were nervous or offer you a hug on a bad day.

“Hey, don’t go all shy on me.” Peter pinches at your side. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You realize you have started blushing, thinking of how he’s been accommodating you all this time. “Nothing, just…is that why you’re always so touchy? Because of me?”

Peter runs his hand up and down your side, from your hip to your underarm and back again in a pensive rhythm. “I mean, if you’re asking if I want to touch you, I do. I guess what goes through my head, basically, is I love you and want you to know it, so I just do the thing that I know will register with you.” He shrugs. “And I don’t mind it either, so that’s a bonus.”

There’s a little smile playing at his lips, but it does nothing to undercut the sincerity in his eyes. Your heart grows heavy with fondness. “Peter, that’s so thoughtful of you.” You take his face in your hand, stroking at his cheek. “God, I don’t deserve you, do I? Give me some acts of service to do for you. Any holes in your suit need mending?”

Peter smiles at you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thanks, baby, but I’ve got it. Just be here when I get home, and that’s enough for me.”

You start to protest, but he kisses you, palming the side of your face to angle you closer. He tastes like the fruity gum he sometimes chews, and your lips part automatically for him, but you won’t be diverted from your cause.

Starting tomorrow, there’s going to be a cup of coffee waiting when he wakes up and a packed lunch for his patrol.

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so-long-soldier-writes · 9 months ago

Text

Feeding 101

kai parker x reader

summary: damon was a great teacher during elena's transition, but he's less than helpful when kai escapes hell and needs to feed. luckily, you're there at the right place, right time, and offer to teach him, (much to damon's disapproval). | heretic!kai

tags: based on s08e13, mention of twilight, blood drinking, blood sharing, feelings, confessions, arguments, protective!damon but also protective!kai, mention of sex but no sexual content, almost kiss

word count: ~2.7k

You’re too busy texting to look where you’re going. A nervous text from Alaric; a warning, judging by his unusual use of the red exclamation + question mark emoji. You stumble to the bathroom to read it, wanting your reaction to be out of sights from the crowded diner. Mystic Falls has been a mess lately; no doubt it concerns the next big enemy.

But as you burst open the nearest door, you catch the sight of two bodies occupying. Right as you turn to leave, you realize it’s Damon by the sink.

“Oh, shit, sorry - wait, Damon?!”

This is an uncommon place to find him. Usually, he’d be at the Mystic Grill or the Scull Bar. Never at the rather unkempt small diner on the end of the street. You, however, go there often, whenever you need to escape wandering eyes and small-town chatter. Damon, often both the cause of the eyes and the chatter, enjoys being in the center of attention.

However, when you catch his gaze this time, his throat tightens in fear. “Y/N, out! Go!”

His urgency scares you. Your eyes bounce around the room for the threat, wondering what’s so imperative that you hurry on your way out the door.

You settle your attention on the figure beside him. Well, not one, but two.

One man slouched against the wall, diner apron still loosely around his waist. Another man is holding him up by his shoulders, feeding on his neck.

You startle at the sight, not expecting it.

“Get out, Y/N!”

The man feeding is too caught up in his gig to notice your presence, but you soon start to recognize his shoulders.

You stop, feet planted into the cement; fear becoming curiosity. “Is that Kai?”

“No!”

At the same time, the man in question lets the diner cook slump to the ground. He turns to Damon, unsuccessfully wiping blood off his face. “So that was-” he finally sees you, “hey, I remember you.”

“She’s leaving,” Damon answers. “Y/N, go!”

“Y/N, that was it!”

You’re having trouble tearing your eyes from his face. Jesus Christ, he’s a messy eater.

“Is this the big emergency Ric texted me about?!”

Damon shrugs, “probably.”

“As much as I love talking about Ric, I need to feed on more than just this big guy. I’ve been in hell for a long time, Damon, and-”

“I know! You’re hungry; I get it. We’re having a little problem right now of finding people that you can eat. It’s not like there’s a line outside of willing participants.”

You swallow hard.

Kai’s always made you feel a type of way you couldn’t explore. His bloodstained lips and teeth multiply that feeling tenfold, reminding you why you came to Mystic Falls in the first place. Vampires, witches, werewolves. You started out as a Twilight enthusiast looking for adventure, attending Whitmore College, but then became a valuable asset to the team.

God, if Kai ever knew how hard it was for Elena to keep you away from him, you’d probably die inside. You fell for him hard. And now, staring at him in his full transition, you can already feel those tingles returning.

“What are you guys doing?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Kai here says he can bring back Elena, but he needs to be strong enough to do the spell.”

Ah. You shift your feet nervously. Even despite what he did to your best friend, you can’t help your desire for him. “So you need to go,” Damon continues, “and not be a witness anymore, and we need to go find more bad people.”

“Why only bad people?”

“So that Damon doesn’t feel guilty for eating good ones,” Kai answers, to which Damon gives him a distasteful smile.

“And, because like I said, you don’t exactly have anybody willing to be fed on, especially not by you. So we have to get a move on it if we’re to reverse this spell quickly, before Cade gets his hands on you.”

“Cade?”

“He’s coming for me, because I escaped Hell.” He glances down at the diner cook again, wondering if any of his blood is still fresh for a second round. “I really don’t want to go back there, to Hell, and every time I feed, I can feel myself getting stronger, so that’s great, in case I need to fight him.” Kai takes in the sight of you one last time before tearing his lust-filled eyes away. “So if we can find more people-”

“Feed on me.”

“What?”

“What?!” Damon repeats Kai’s question, but with extra dismay.

“You need to feed, but are having trouble selecting people. I’m a willing participant; feed on me.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

“C’mon, Damon, you want Elena back, and so do I, and I don’t know… I trust Kai won’t kill me.”

“Y/N, do you not see the dead guy slumped on the floor?”

“Yeah but Kai knows me. You both do. I’m not some villain, or some unimportant cook.”

“That man was very important,” Damon fakes, “he was doing his job, serving burgers-”

“He was forcing his hand on an underage girl,” Kai interrupts, “that’s why we picked him.”

“See? Eating people with a good cause. C’mon, Kai, I trust you. Just heal me back up when you’re done. Has Damon taught you how to do that yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I will.” You shrug off your coat, exposing your neck. “Come here. Pierce this vein,” you point, “and drink from it.”

“No!” Damon lunges for Kai when he steps closer to you. “Y/N, this is insane!”

“It’s fine! You’re being dramatic!”

“You’re being under-dramatic!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It certainly is!”

“He isn’t going to drain me, I’m just giving him enough to make him stronger. You want Elena back, right? So do I. Kai, drink.”

The vampire steps closer, flicking his tongue against your neck. When your knees buckle at the sensation, he grabs your waist to hold you up.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Go ahead.”

Damon can only watch as Kai follows your instruction, biting down carefully into your jugular vein and beginning to suck. He was never so careful with his previous victims, and would let himself tear messily into their skin before finding his latch. Blood would stream down their neck and his chin, staining them both. You showing him where to latch makes his bite a lot cleaner. Instead of worrying about hurting you, he can focus his attention on keeping you upright.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Damon asks, also noticing your weak knees.

“Mhm- yes.” You grab onto Kai for support. He pulls off to look at you, but latches back on when you nod the consent to continue.

“Doesn’t look like that from here.”

“It’s just… intense. I’m okay.”

After a minute or two, your skin pales. Your body is weakening under Kai’s strong grip, and he realizes quickly, detaching his teeth from your neck.

“Hey, what do I-”

“Bite here,” you point to his own wrist, “feed me your blood to heal me.”

“Bite here,” he repeats, situating his teeth on himself. He bites, then it bleeds. “Like Damon’s done?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” He pushes his wrist up to your mouth, almost force-feeding you. You would’ve grabbed onto his wrist and fed yourself, but the way Kai does it, like he’s desperate for you to heal, makes you wonder if he could really feel that way.

Within seconds, you start to feel like yourself again. The color returns to your face, and you get a little of your strength back. Most of it is turned to mush at the fact that he fed from you - he literally fucking fed from you; your heart is racing - but not all of your weakened state is due to overwhelming feelings.

“Are you okay?”

“Mh- yes.”

“Are you sure?” Damon overrides, coming up behind you.

“I’m good. Fuck,” you’re still trying to catch your breath, exhilaration coursing through you, “felt good.”

“Well it isn’t supposed to feel good,” the elder vampire comments.

“I, um, I just meant… the healing part of it did. Felt good to have my strength back.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Kai asks, head tilted.

“No, you didn’t. You’re okay.” He smiles, then brushes a loose hair from your face. You have a suddenly overwhelming urge to kiss him, but doubt Damon would like that very much. Instead, you point towards the sink, then at his bloodstained mouth. “Let me clean you up, okay? Can’t go anywhere with dead line cook all over your face.”

Kai takes a step back to let you reach the sink, while Damon tries not to be dumbfounded at how okay you are with this whole situation.

You wet a paper towel and add a teensy bit of hand soap, then beckon Kai forward.

“Thanks for teaching me how to feed properly,” he says, watching the first bit of blood wash down the drain.

“Of course. I don’t know why Damon didn’t-”

“-because that’s not my job, Y/N. And it wasn’t yours, either.”

“Still. There’s a huge bloodstain on the wall now, and that one certainly isn’t my problem.”

“We’ll just leave it for the cleaning lady. Put an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door.”

“Nice,” you reply dryly.

“Hey, while I was feeding,” Kai says suddenly, “I felt this rush go through your body that I hadn’t tasted before. Is that normal?”

Damon’s heart drops to his toes. “It was fear,” he tries to say. He knows you had a crush seven years ago, and Kai does not need to learn about it now.

“I’m asking Y/N.”

“I, um… yeah, I mean, normal sometimes. Blood sharing can be really personal, so since you weren’t feeding to kill, it’s not…” you glance over to Damon, who’s making gestures of cutting off a head to make you stop talking, “it’s, uh, normal.”

“It’s personal? Like how?”

Damon’s eyes roll all the way to space. He slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Um, like… well… that level of trust that I put in you, coupled again, with the fact that you weren’t feeding to kill. Sometimes it can stir up, uh, feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“Oohkay, Y/N, you’ve done enough!”

“I don’t know how to explain it!”

“Blood sharing is personal because you’re feeding off one another in a really intimate way, sometimes more intimate than sex. Now, Kai, another important thing you’re gonna learn about being a vampire is compulsion. Compel her to forget this ever happened.”

“What?” You step back in surprise, “no!”

“Come on, Y/N, it’s for your safety. He doesn’t have any feelings anyway.”

“No! Damon-”

“For the record, I feel things sometimes. Remember - hello - merge with Luke? And before that, I could feel, I just didn’t know what I was feeling.”

“Neat. Great. Compel her anyway.”

“Damon!”

“No! She doesn’t want it. I’m not gonna force something on her that she doesn’t want.”

“I bet this guy didn’t want to die, did you think about that?”

“That’s different. She’s different. She matters.”

“Oh, great.”

“You just said blood sharing is really intimate, so why would I compel her when she doesn’t want it when we practically just had sex?”

“That is not what I said!”

“It is, too!”

Damon sighs, “you compel her because it’s for her own good! Because she should never be caught doing anything with the likes of you. You’re only gonna get her killed.”

“I didn’t get her killed just a minute ago when I was feeding on her.”

“Because she showed you how! Otherwise, you would’ve just ripped into her neck like this other guy here.”

“No, I wouldn’t have fed on her at all if she didn’t teach me, because I’ve never wanted to hurt her.”

Damon throws up his hands. “God! Kai, why?!”

“Oh, is it suddenly bad that I care about someone?! I thought that’s all you ever wanted from me. And now I do, and I’m the bad guy again?”

“You were never the good guy, I-”

“Okay, just stop it!” You interrupt, putting hands between the men. “This is ridiculous.”

“His apparent, sudden feelings for you are ridiculous!”

“I’ve had a crush on her since the day I merged with Luke,” he blurts out.

“What?” You and Damon say in unison, both now looking at him.

He sighs. “You were there for Bonnie’s birthday and helped us all send a message to her. But after my sister stabbed me and Damon healed me with his blood, you were the one that cleaned me up and made sure I was okay. I always thought you were cute, but from that day on, I don’t know, I just felt something.” He looks down, embarrassed. “I never said anything because I’m, well, me, and you’re you - this super sweet and gentle and caring person, and I would be nothing but wrong for you. And the only reason I agreed to feed on you today was because I am really hungry, and your blood smells just so good, and you were willing to teach me how to do it without hurting you.” He pauses, “I’m sorry for lying to you, and I’m sorry for causing such a big fight, and for letting this get out, but that’s the truth.”

“You had a crush on me,” you say, not really as a question. Kai looks up, unable to read your tone, hoping your face gives you away. He expects mocking, certainly not the excitement you seem to have instead.

“Yeah.”

“Damon,” you turn suddenly, “did you hear that?”

“Yep, all three times, Y/N.”

You turn back to Kai, expression unreadable. “For the record-”

“Y/N, don’t-” Damon attempts.

You ignore, “I’ve always had a crush on you, too.”

A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. “You have?”

“Even before the merge, I liked you, but then after it, watching you navigate the world, I couldn’t help but fall head over heels. I wanted to help you through it more but somebody…” you glance at Damon, “held me back.”

“For good reason-”

You interrupt him again. “But yes, Kai, I like you.”

“Even as a heretic?”

“You think I’d let just anyone feed on me? Let alone a baby vamp who I literally just watched rip open another guy’s neck?”

He smiles. “Got it.”

“If anything, it was hot.”

“Y/N-”

“You learning control on me was hot, too, but that display of near-rabid vampirism was also super hot.”

“Y/N-” Damon warns again, not liking the direction of the conversation.

“And yeah, I wouldn’t share my blood with just anyone. So, yes, Kai, I think it’s safe to say I like you even as a heretic.”

Kai’s hand finds its way to the side of your face. An overwhelming urge to kiss you settles in his bones.

“Nope-” Damon speeds forward to separate you. “You can talk about your weird, gross, feelings, but we aren’t going any further with them today.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Damon,” you warn, not liking the grip he has on Kai’s shirt. “Easy.”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s a big, strong heretic now, right?” He pushes him hard into the wall.

Kai groans, pain coursing through his body for a mere second before any bruises heal themselves.

“Damon!” You come to his side. “Let go.” Luckily, he does. Kai makes another, lower groan as his body is released from the man’s clutches. You try to not let it go to your head. “Can we just… go do whatever it is you were doing earlier now? This guy is starting to smell.”

Damon looks at him, then at the two of you. “Fine, whatever. Y/N, I’m assuming I can’t shake you off?”

“Nope.”

“Alright. Then let’s go make enemies out of my friends.” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Bonnie, who’s helping Kai get out permanently. Alaric, with… Alaric in general. Elena, when we wake her, for letting her realize I failed to keep you two apart like she tried so hard to do. Matt-”

“We get it.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker oneshot #this is 2/2 things i wanted to post today!#hopefully my writer's block is over with and life will chill out bc ugh #i hate not being able to write and post #anyway the world needs more heretic kai fics i need him to bite me

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angelstate · 20 days ago

Note

Oh okay sorry i didnt realise! I mean if you WANT to do that do you but i wont Force you!

Heartbreakingly In Love

PeterParker x Reader

(here it is luv, hope u like it!!)

Peter Parker was the love of your life. accentuation on the was.

Is not that you fell out of love one morning and suddenly you didn't view him as the reason you woke up everyday. You just couldn't allow yourself to love him any longer, therefore he was the love of your life.

you wished you could think back to when you love him freely and pinpoint when things started going south for the both of you.

Maybe it was more of a sudden realization that him being who he was and you being who you were and wished to become weren't compatible at all. Peter needed someone waiting for him every night to be there unconditionally and you couldn't be it.

You weren't aunt May, you weren't Tony Stark, you weren't Ned, you were you. a woman whose identity couldn't be tied down to be his companion, you wished to succeed too but for that you had to walk away for a while.

You tried to muster the courage to talk to peter about this for a while, thinking heavily about your reasons, your future, dreams, everything that was on the line if you didn't at least discuss who you wanted to be with peter.

You debated in how to start such difficult conversation, how to put into words and explain to the man you loved how you couldn't allow yourself to love him any longer

You doubted there even existed words in the english language that could describe softly how you couldn't love someone anymore for the sake of not losing your identity.

Adding to that the fact you weren't explaining to anyone else other than your beautiful, dark haired, compassionate but not so selfless lover whose world and heart brakes at the most negative intimacy and intrusive thoughts that filled your mind.

The same man that with the same breath wouldn't doubted one second to go to space and sacrifice his life for anyone that asked him to do so.

How could you tell him, how could you come and disturb the new found peace in his life with the gruesome news that you had to walk away from him or else you would become something you didn't want, or worse, Not become anything at all.

although you were thinking about that your feet still insisted to drag you to his home, a gloomy expression decorating your face that you couldn't hide at least not tonight.

Knocking on a door had never felt more impossible, making yourself known felt so strangely dehumanizing at this moment.

You didn't want to see Peter Parker; You didn't want to deliver him such somber news, break his heart with such pressure that even his superpowers couldn't lift it out of his chest and then leave right through the same door you didn't dare to knock.

But even with your heart trying to pull you away from the door in front of you, your mind still made you knock.

Three unsteady knocks on the door, followed by a strangled sigh leaving your mouth, the cheerful and sweet tone of your lover screaming at his only family member in the inside of his home that he would open the door followed by the only thing separating you from facing each other being opened by him

Peter opened the door already knowing it was you who knocked, he had heard your heartbeat the moment you walked into the building.

So used to hear it he could detect the familiar thudding rhythm from miles away, your intoxicating perfume filling his nose since the 7 minutes you had been standing in front of his door.

The one he didn't dare to open before you knocked because he knew how much you liked when he acted surprised to see you, how he pretended he couldn't sense you from a mile away.

There he was, a big smile on his face that slowly disappeared as he smelled the lack of serotonin on your body and saw your gloomy expression, the one you only ever had when something bad had happened.

"what happened?" peter said, his tone dripping from concern as his eyes opened slightly, focused on noticing every detail of your face, trying to see the severity of the situation that had you so sad and conflicted.

you just stared at him, eyes filled with so much sorrow and guilt that it made peter think you had done something so bad you had come to him hoping he could make it better. Because he always did, he always fixed and broke and cleaned anything that you had done you alone couldn't undone

But when your bottom lip quivered, and your eyes became teary his mind raced to other options, maybe you had gotten hurt or someone did.

"are you okay? Did you get hurt?" He asked, using his heightened senses to try and see if he could pick up the scent on blood on you. He couldn't, you looked fine, at least physically.

"I'm fine", you finally mumbled out, your hands shaking slightly as you looked at peter with love and anguish. heartbreak even.

"are you sure?" he asked, concern so cristal clear in his eyes you started to regret having entered the building, gone up the stairs and knocked on the door of his home whose paint was starting to come off from the amount of time you two spend leaning against it late at night after a date.

"i just had a rough day" you answered with the most common excuse you always used when you feel too ashamed and embarrassed to be open with peter about what you felt.

Just like always, he took a hold of your hand and pulled you inside his home. his home. he didn't asked for details nor questioned the tears forming in your eyes, just lure you into his room, closed the door and made you sit down on his bed.

His bed, the one you had slept in countless times, cuddled in, made love in, fought in and now if you muster up the courage..break up in.

He knelt in front of you, your hands in his hold. his skin feeling warm and comforting and his eyes so focused on getting to know everything with just looking at you.

his soft voice being speaking, almost whispering as if anything louder would mean a death sentence, was he aware that's where this was headed?

"want to tell me what happened?" he whispered, his warm breath hitting your cold cheeks

"i just..." you tried to muster the courage to speak, but one look at his brown eyes full of concern, lips slightly parted ready to whisper sweet words in you ears till your tears stopped made it so difficult to let the truth out

"i don't know pete..." you whispered and looked down, tears leaving your eyes and falling in your intertwined hands that rested in your lap, Peter's hands receiving most of the rain from your eyes.

He didn't point it out, just held your hands more tightly, a small a gesture to let you know you could cry and entire ocean in his hands and he would swim to you without a second thought.

it only made the situation more harder to you, you were never one to confront people, always pliant and kind. it was by that nature that you had allowed yourself to stay with peter for so long. bending over backwards every time he needed you to because that was the right thing to do when he was out there saving lives out of mere selfishness.

you couldn't call it selflessness for the life of you, not when you had spent nights awake sitting by your window hoping he would show up unharmed.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker angst #marvel #spiderman angst #spiderman fic #spiderman #spiderman sad #tom holland spiderman #tom holland #fanfic #angst

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nebulablakemurphy · 2 years ago

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 14)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Sunlight seeps through the curtains of Y/N and Haymitch’s room at the tribute center. Katniss and Peeta are taken to suit up for the games.

Y/N does not want to leave this bed; she does not want to live this nightmare.

Haymitch startles himself awake with his own snoring. He had too much to drink last night, after Chaff refused his bangle and the alliance.

“No, Haymitch. Give those kids their best chance.”

They fought, then made up; the way brothers do. Still it is Finnick wearing Haymitch’s token into the arena.

Y/N turns over in Haymitch’s arms, resting her head against his chest, lulled by the steady rise and fall.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Bullshit,” she calls it.

Haymitch huffs a laugh, “it’s true.”

“Fine. What am I thinking?”

He flicks her ear, playfully. “Never said I was a fucking mind reader.” I just know you.

“His leg.” Y/N confesses, “Peeta won’t be able to take the prosthetic off. It hurts when he leaves it on too long.”

Haymitch sighs, “the kid’s strong. He’ll pull through.”

“I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to them.”

“You’d be surprised by the things you can live with.” He knows first hand.

Y/N holds her tongue.

“I know it’s not fair and I know that it hurts you.” I hate that it hurts you. I hate that it hurts them. The damn kids that grew on him like warts.

She lifts her head from his chest, staring into those tired, blue eyes. Tracing the furrow between his brows, “it’s not your fault.”

“So you can read minds.”

“No, I just know that you hate yourself.”

At this Haymitch laughs, rumbling out from deep in his chest. “Hate is such a strong word.”

“I love you, Haymitch,” she tells him.

He half smiles, “now that is your own fault.”

————————————————————————

The viewing room is different this year, all sponsors have chosen tributes. The arena theme is unclear but the tropical setting will make for an interesting game.

Finnick will thrive there, which is good news for all of them.

Katniss is visibly shaken when she’s raised onto the pedestal. Peeta is placed strategically on the opposite side of the cornucopia.

“Let the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor. Ten, nine……”

“Something’s wrong.” Y/N covers her mouth with one hand.

“Eight.”

“Cashmere’s right there,” Haymitch points out. “She’s in a good spot.”

“Seven.”

“Brutus.” He’s on the opposite side, not really an enemy, certainly not a friend.

“Six.”

“Well there’s no perfect spot.” Peeta’s got Mags, and Parker. The male tribute from ten, without allegiance to the rebels or the Capitol.

“Five.”

People are going to die in the bloodbath, there’s no way around it.

“Four, three, two, one……” Cannon.

Katniss dives in, swimming toward the rocky pathway which leads to the cornucopia. Brutus comes up about the same time, hot on her trail for a moment, before jumping back into the water.

Gloss is keeping an eye on her as Cashmere reaches the weapons; securing her own, her brother’s and the bow. Gloss trips up, leaving Katniss alone when she finds Cashmere.

“Katniss,” the blonde says, gently. Extending the bow and arrows to her, with the arm sporting Y/N’s gold bracelet.

Katniss eyes the token. This is who Y/N’s chosen, above anyone else. After a moment she nods, accepting the weapon and drawing it quickly.

Gloss joins them, gathering his sword without a word. Prepared to defend them against the other victors. All three turn to Finnick, ready to strike.

“Good thing we’re allies, right?” He also flashes a bangle.

Leaving Katniss too stunned to speak.

“Duck.” Finnick warns, throwing his trident; it lands in district five’s male tribute. Cannon. “Don’t trust two. I’ll take this side, you three hold them off.”

“We need to find Peeta.” Cashmere says, shocking Katniss farther.

“I’m on it.” Finnick disappears, beyond the edge of the cornucopia.

A flicker of dark hair crosses the screen and Haymitch grabs Y/N’s face. Turning her away from the screen and holding her hostage as she bats at his hands.

“What are you doing?” She protests, continuing to push at him.

“Don’t look.”

A scream, the slash and stab. The blood that gushes out in its wake.

“Haymitch, please, who is it?” Y/N is panicking in earnest now.

Cannon. Her body tumbles into the water.

“Seeder.” Haymitch releases her, spared from the image forever ingrained in his mind.

“Mags found Peeta, he’s over here.” Finnick calls.

Peeta is grappling with Parker near his pedestal.

Katniss tries to line up a shot, but it’s impossible with the tangle of limbs. Eventually they both go down, under the water. Finnick dives in to assist but the cannon booms.

“Peeta?”

The viewing room is still, until that blonde head of hair pops out. Panting and disoriented, searching for Katniss. When he finds her there Peeta knows it is worth it. The bloodshed, the fight, the reason to keep on living is right here. “Katniss.”

“Peeta,” the archer reaches for him from the rocks.

Just that morning, Katniss told him she wanted no allies, only him. Luckily something seems to have swayed her. Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick and Mags have joined them. Together they set off into the forest for refuge, taking a moment to breathe about half a mile out.

The cannon sounds, five more times, in quick succession. “Guess we’re not holding hands anymore.” Finnick remarks.

“You think that’s funny?” Katniss sneers.

“Every time that cannon goes off is music to my ears.”

“Finnick,” Cashmere warns, with a shake of her head.

“Let’s keep moving,” Peeta insists.

The forest is deep, vines hanging in all directions. Peeta is at the forefront beside Gloss, hacking down the overgrowth to clear a path.

Katniss spots the shimmering ahead, something not quite right about the edge of her sightline. A forcefield. “Peeta, no!”

He rebounds off the electro current, knocking down the others. His body emitting hints of smoke.

“He’s not breathing.” Katniss cries, turning Peeta onto his back.

“Anybody know CPR?”

“I do,” Finnick takes over.

Katniss keeps a close eye, not sure that she trusts him.

Cashmere touches her back and the girl flinches, “it’s ok, Katniss.”

Haymitch watches intently, he does not turn Y/N away or even attempt to. Come on Finnick. Come on Peeta.

“Come on. Come on, Peeta.”

“Please, Peeta.”

The boy gasps, drawing fresh air into his lungs.

Y/N’s shoulders sag in relief, running a soothing hand over the lively child in her belly.

“Alright,” Haymitch huffs, resting a hand over hers. “Everybody calm down.” As if he himself hadn’t been in a state of unrest. He leans forward, addressing their child directly. “That means you too.”

There it is, the familiar brush of his lips against her stomach. Y/N realizes that she hasn’t felt it as frequently this time around. Perhaps she prevented it, she wasn’t ready and he knew it. She regrets that now.

————————————————————————-

After some investigation Katniss discovers that the arena is a dome.

“We’re safest with our backs protected, I say we set up camp here for the night.” Gloss says, eyes still scanning the area.

“I’ll take first watch,” Finnick volunteers.

“Not a chance,” Katniss grunts out.

“Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta, that was called saving his life.” Finnick cocks his head to the side. “If I wanted to kill either one of you, I would’ve done it by now.”

“Enough,” Cashmere cuts in, they’re worse than a couple of kids.

“Just for a little bit, let’s get some rest.” Peeta squeezes Katniss’ arm as he passes. Tucking in comfortably, against one of the trees and falling asleep.

Finnick helps Mags get settled. Cashmere and Gloss break off in the opposite corner.

“We’ve gotta get them some water.” Y/N picks at her nails, anxiously.

“You want me to go?” Haymitch offers.

“I’ll go.” Sponsors this year are chomping at the bit to send essentials for their favorite tributes. All seated near the request booth. Y/N paints on a smile as she approaches them.

“Y/N,” a hand reaches out to grab her. “We’ve been waiting to help Katniss and the baby.” The Capitol woman coos.

“That is so kind, thank you.” She jerks her chin towards the desk. “Come with me?”

The woman squeals in delight, nearly leaving behind her pocketbook in haste.

“We’d like to send my tributes water.” Y/N tells the man working the booth.

“How many bottles?”

“Not bottles.” Y/N wracks her brain, “do you have any kind of filtration system?”

“Nothing portable.”

So they can’t use the salt water.

“Is this an arena without any fresh water?”

“There is water.” The man says, giving Y/N nothing to work with.

————————————————————————

Katniss can’t risk sleeping, so she sits up with Finnick as the sky grows dark.

“How’s Peeta?”

“He’s ok, I think.” Katniss croaks out. “Just dehydrated like the rest of us.”

The national anthem rings out over the arena, lighting up the sky with images of the fallen.

Katniss thinks of her mentors then. How many were their friends?

A chime finds their ears as the Horn of Plenty ends. A parachute. Water, Katniss hopes.

She moves for it, splitting open the metal container. No water, just a note and…

“What’s that?” Finnick wonders, looks painful to use.

“From Haymitch and Y/N, I think it’s a spile.”

“A what?” Finnick follows her to the nearest tree, watching as she hammers the sharp end in with a rock. The sound wakes Peeta.

For a moment there is nothing, Katniss slams her fist against the tree. She can survive without food, she’s done it before, but not without water.

“Why isn’t it working?” Y/N is fuming, ready to wring the man’s neck who sent the faulty tool. But then, by some miracle, a steady stream of water begins to flow.

Once everyone has had their fill, those not on watch return to sleeping.

“Well if you’re not going to sleep, I will.” Finnick decides.

“Go ahead,” Katniss nods, prepared to handle it on her own.

The viewing room begins to clear out, supply booths are closed and most sponsors have excused themselves. Y/N and Haymitch take the elevator up to their floor, switching on the projector as they ready for bed.

Cashmere comes to sit beside Katniss, noticing that she keeps dozing off. The blonde says nothing, just offers a soft smile before turning her gaze out to the forest.

Y/N dares to close her own eyes, wrapped up in Haymitch’s arms as he massages the back of her scalp.

“Ahhhhh!”

Y/N turns back to the games. Back to Katniss with blisters on her hand from the thick mist.

Haymitch hisses, “get outta there, sweetheart.”

“Run!” Katniss calls, rousing the rest. “Run! The fog is poison.”

Maybe this is part of Plutarch’s plan, make it believable.

Finnick has Mags on his back, bringing up the rear. Katniss and Peeta are between Gloss and Cashmere, offering whatever protection they can. But the fog is closing in from all sides, leaving no clear path.

Poison hits each of them in turn, Cashmere worse than Gloss, who doubles back for his sister. Peeta worse than Katniss when his foot gets caught on a root.

Finnick wails when the mist finds him. Mags is silent, though the pain is evident on her features, arms coming loose enough to topple them both over.

“Mags, please!” Finnick rushes her back on.

The six of them stumble over each other, fighting to clear the effected area which spans endless.

Peeta is down, unconscious.

“Peeta,” Katniss shakes him, patting at his face. “Peeta, we have to keep moving.”

“Shit,” Haymitch curses.

Y/N paces the small space beside the night stand, tethered by her husband’s hand.

Gloss has Cashmere tucked up under his arm, her skin a tapestry of raised blisters. “We need to get him up.”

Cashmere pants out. “I’m…it’s bad. Save Peeta.”

Finnick and Mags stop to assess the damage.

“Here,” Katniss approaches Cashmere, tossing one arm over her shoulder. “I’ll take her.”

Gloss does not argue, gathering Peeta and dragging him forward.

“We’re almost-”

“Katniss, you have to leave me.” Cashmere insists.

“No,” Katniss cuts her off.

In the end it is Mags who disappears into the fog, allowing Finnick to help the others. The cannon that follows is deafening, paired with Finnick’s agonized scream.

It hits Y/N square in the chest, her knees buckle, sinking back onto the bed. She does not cry. Allowing anger to fill the holes left by the games. It seeps into her blood, familiar and all consuming. Burning hot.

Haymitch can feel the shift, from grief to rage and he does not fault her for it.

Y/N blinks at the screen. “I can’t live with it.”

“I’ll help you.” Take it out on me, if you need to. Just let me make it better…at least let me try.

Part 15

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x y/n #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #the hunger games fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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deconstructthesoup · 5 months ago

Text

Some miscellaneous stuff for the Fantasy High Leverage AU:

After getting kicked out, Kristen got taken in by Ankarna and Cassandra, who are living their best country-lesbian vibes out on a farm together---a farm which eventually gets in financial trouble and almost gets shut down by a corporation, which is how the crew learn about Kristen's past before she was a hitter. The farm winds up doubling as a safehouse. (Also, Ankarna wears flannels and has a shotgun, and Cassandra does tarot readings at their stall at the farmer's market on weekends. They also have a little black cat, with no relation to Kalina.)

Despite all the rumors swirling around, the way Fig and Fabian met is surprisingly mundane: when Gilear moved from Portland back to London after he and Sandralynn divorced, Fig went with him, and she got enrolled in the same school that Fabian was attending. The two of them became fast and immediate friends, wound up becoming the most popular kids there due to their combined chaos and the fact that they were kind to those who needed it, and were pretty much inseparable from that point forward. And when Fig introduced Gilear to Fabian's mom, who'd been widowed for a while and was looking for someone stable... well, as much as Fabian complained, it meant that he and Fig were officially siblings. (They learned how to grift from Hallariel, who was a very well-renowned thief in her day. It's how she met Bill, after all.)

Fig is the sibling who's the "bad actor in a theater setting, good actor when she's breaking the law" type, though it's a bit more complex than that. She's amazing at coming up with a character on the spot, building off of the questions that people ask her, and remembering details so none of the information contradicts what she's already said, but she finds scripts "boring and restrictive," and always tries to put her own spin on things... which doesn't always fit well. She does get a little better at following a script of sorts when she's on the crew---at least, she learns to follow the plan.

Kristen hasn't gone by "Kristen Applebees" since she was fifteen---instead, the criminal underworld knows her by "Kristen Justice-Forester," referencing her adoptive moms. Mostly because that sounds generally more badass, but also because she really wants to forget about her old life as the church girl next door.

Gorgug's legal name is "Gavin Thistlespring," but he's been going by Gorgug since he was twelve---it was the name of his first ever D&D character, and it eventually became his hacker handle. (This is really because I just needed an explanation as to why a perfectly normal human in a world that's basically ours would be named "Gorgug." I do something similar for Fig in a lot of my AUs---her name's either just "Fig," or she's named after a character from a fantasy series that Sandralynn likes.)

Someone suggested that Kalina is the Sterling equivalent, and I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon---but instead of being Riz's former partner, she's his dad's old partner and mentor who was forced to help cover up Pok's death. She's not necessarily bad, but she does have a very black-and-white view of morality, and she's not a fan of Riz's new, less-than-legal idea of justice.

Adaine still has the Parker rep of being "crazy," but in a very different light. Rather than being a thrill-seeking ball of chaos who's an unpredictable wildcard in every way when the story begins, she's unsettlingly quiet, perceptive to the point where she can predict things minutes in advance, and acts seemingly without morality and with her own skewed logic. As she spends more time with the crew and warms up to them, however, everyone starts to see that Adaine is unflinchingly and unfailingly kind---and that once she actually warms up to you, she will talk nonstop about anything she's invested in, whether it be obscure history facts, thieving tips, or whatever show, book, or video game that one of the others has gotten her hooked on. She's just closed off as a defense mechanism.

Fabian is the sibling with a deep and personal bond with Riz---not that Fig isn't close to him, but Fabian and Riz shot each other when they first met, and you can't beat that. And while Fabian used to have a thing for Riz, he eventually realized that Riz wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, though neither of them fully had the words for it (because, y'know, this story still starts in 2008). Still, though, he considers Riz his best friend and vice versa, and once he's on the crew, he never dates anyone without introducing them to Riz first. And his affections tend to bounce back and forth between Gorgug and Ragh. Or both. Let's just say that Fabian's got the most romantic drama out of any of them.

Riz is still close with his mom, despite the fact that, as a lawyer and former cop, he knows that she probably wouldn't approve of what he does. He just tells her that he runs a private detective agency, which isn't too far from the truth---hell, it's their cover story, after all.

Fabian's father was the greatest thief in the world when he was alive, but that came with a lot of enemies, and that's not something that Fabian wants to deal with---not to mention, he's always been adamant about making a name for himself, and to not just skate by on the Seacaster name. If that means that he has to refer to himself as "Fabian Faeth," well... so be it. He reasons that it's Fig's last name. Not Gilear's.

Fig has never met her bio-dad before the story begins... but she does meet him eventually. There's a whole thing there.

Adaine does not kill Angwyn in her backstory. However, she does get to do that eventually, and it's cathartic as fuck.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #the bad kids #leverage #riz gukgak #kristen applebees #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring

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queen-of-the-avengers · 1 year ago

Text

Redemption

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Teen!Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Warnings: bullying (from you), feeling guilty and sad for treating him such, angst

Summary: You don't hate Peter. You hate that you're jealous of him. You hate that he always gets good grades without trying while you bust your ass and fail. When you find his diary, you learn more about Peter than you probably should know.

Squares Filled: regret for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

It’s another peaceful walk to school. Your apartment building is only a few blocks from your high school, so your mom allows you to walk it if you only stick to the well-known paths and avoid strange people on the sidewalk. She’s been paranoid ever since she saw in the news about some little girl getting kidnapped by someone on the streets. It took a lot to convince her that you would be fine, so she agreed if you stuck to her terms, which you do.

You’re blaring your favorite music through your headphones as you tune out everyone around you. You’re looking down at the sidewalk so you don’t see someone come barreling your way. The person almost knocks you to the ground, so you yank your headphones off and glare at the person who did it.

Of course, it’s Peter fucking Parker. He catches his footing and continues to walk past you as if he has somewhere else more important to be.

“Watch where you’re going, asshat!” you yell after him.

Peter mumbles an apology without so much as a look back at you, and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Out of everyone in school, he’s the one who annoys you the most. He thinks just because he’s so fucking smart that the rest of the rules don’t apply to him. When he gets in trouble, the teachers end up giving him a slap-on-the-wrist punishment because he gets good grades and keeps to himself.

He doesn’t pay attention half the time but he gets stellar grades. You work your ass off and the best you can get is a B, mostly C’s. He pisses you off because you’re so jealous of him. It’s not him as a person, he’s actually quite nice, it’s the fact that he doesn’t even try and still gets everything he wants. You try so hard but still fail. Your annoyance and pissy mood have evolved into snappy comments and rude stares.

You walk the rest of the way without music, and you immediately head to your first class which so happens to be science. You’re not doing well in that class but Peter is, and he makes sure to show off intentionally or not. Today in class is lab day, and you’re supposed to mix certain chemicals to create a foamy mixture that grows a lot.

Peter shifts in his seat anxiously and watches the clock count down. You grab the ingredients that are listed in the book and glance at Peter.

“Peter, I need your help. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Peter snaps out of his trance and sets up the main portion of the lab. He grabs his phone to check the time and ends up getting distracted by one of his notifications. “I think we need this one, right?” When Peter doesn’t answer, you kick his chair lightly. “Peter, is this the right one?”

“Hold on, give me a second.”

You roll your eyes and pour what you think is the right amount of the chemical you believe to be right. The mixture doesn’t match and ends up exploding, sending shards of glass across your table. The mixture spills onto the desk and you quickly move the papers to avoid them from getting ruined.

“Fuck!”

“Y/N! Language!” your teacher scolds. A few students laugh at your failure, and you feel tears prick your eyes. “Don’t move, let me get paper towels.”

“If Peter bothered to help me, then maybe I might actually get something done right. He’s staring at his phone.”

“Peter, put your phone away before I take it for the day.”

Your teacher helps you clean up the mess before getting you a new glass beaker. Peter puts his phone in his bag and slumps in his chair.

“Thanks a lot,” Peter mumbles.

“Get your head out of your ass and do your part.”

“You did it wrong.”

Of course, you did. Here’s Peter Parker to the fucking rescue. He makes this shit look so easy. He grabs the right chemicals and pours the right amount into the beaker. It grows and spills over the top like it’s supposed to. God, you feel like such a failure.

“I hate you,” you mumble under your breath but Peter hears.

His shoulders sag sadly from your comment but he chooses not to respond to it. You don’t really hate him. You hate how brilliant he is. You hate how he makes you feel. You hate that you don’t hate him at all.

The next two classes go by without a hitch for two reasons. You have English and Math which are your favorite subjects, and Peter isn’t in your classes to annoy you. However, economics is your next one which you have Peter in. If you think science is your worst subject, it’s economics. As much as you try to understand and study the packets, it’s not clicking with you. The teacher once had to create a special packet for you dumbing it down really far. It made you feel like an idiot, especially when Peter picked up on it so easily.

What is with that kid? Can’t he see how jealous you are of him? It’s like he likes torturing you on purpose. Much like in science, you and Peter are paired for a project involving creating your own city with its own rules. He’s distracted by whatever is on his phone while you’re doing all the work. Typical.

You grab the textbook and look at the current chapter you’re on. It has everything you need to create your own city. The only thing Peter was good at was naming it, and you’re struggling with putting the rules down on paper. You write out the first rule as this is a democracy. The teacher split the class in half so that one half is Democrats and the other is Republicans.

“Peter, what is so important that you can’t help me?” you sigh and look at him. “You know I suck at this class.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he mumbles and gathers his things.

“What?” Peter quickly excuses himself to the bathroom and runs out of class, leaving you to fend for yourself. “Asswipe!”

“Y/N! Language!” the teacher glares at you.

You roll your eyes and try your best not to sit there and cry from stress and jealousy. When class is over, you find Peter by his locket putting things into it. You slam your hand into the locker beside yours causing him to flinch.

“Thanks a lot for ditching me,” you glare. “Next time you do, I’m going straight to the teacher. You’re not Captain America. You don’t get a free pass here.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter stutters. “It’s just that--”

“I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses. Now you get to finish the project by yourself.”

You shove the folder into his hands and stalk off without another word. His shoulder sags as soon as you’re out of view, and he bangs his head against his locker in defeat. Ned walks up to him already knowing why his friend is like this.

“Is it Y/N again?”

“I don’t get why she hates me so much,” Peter sighs and shoves the project into his locker.

The bell rings to signal lunch and you close your locker to meet up with your friend. You turn the corner to another hallway and spot something black on the ground. Everyone is walking by it as if it means nothing to them. Upon further examination, you see that it’s a notebook. You turn to the first page and see the words, “My Journal” written on it. It’s a diary. Someone dropped their diary, but there is no name to indicate who this belongs to.

Now if this was your diary and someone randomly picked it up, would you want them to read it? It’s kind of hard to answer since you don’t have a diary. With a shrug, you turn to the first entry to see if there is something to tell you who the writer is.

There’s a girl in my class who I can’t stop thinking about. I haven’t known her long but she is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Hair that seems as long as Rapunzel’s, eyes that get me lost whenever I look into them, smooth skin, and freckles that dance across her cheeks. I’m too nervous to go up to her and have a conversation with her. What would I say? What could I say that won’t make me look like an idiot? Every morning I see her, it’s like all reason goes flying out of my head. She talks to me but I can’t help but stutter in response. She makes me so nervous. Is that a good thing? I don’t know anymore.

There is another entry next to that one, and you can’t help but read it as you walk to the lunch room.

I think she hates me. She’s always calling me an asswipe or asshat for everything I mess up on. She’s in four of my classes and we’re paired in projects for three of them. I try to get the teacher to pair me with someone else to spare her feelings but that never happens. I don’t know why she hates me. I haven’t done anything to her. Nothing I do seems to be right in her eyes. Maybe I should give up this tiny crush I have on her. Ned tells me I’m wasting my time. I don’t know how to fix what I have with her.

Asswipe? Asshat? Ned? Does this diary belong to Peter? He has a crush on you? Your heart hurts at “I don’t know why she hates me. I haven’t done anything to her”. Your jealousy of Peter is rubbing off the wrong way. Suddenly, you regret everything you have ever said to him. You didn’t mean to hurt him. Your jealousy has put a film over your eyes and prevented you from seeing how much you’re hurting him.

We had a project today in science class. He must have written this today. I wanted to help her. I know she’s struggling in most classes. Usually, I would have. I hate seeing her stress about something that comes so easily to me. I’d tutor her if I didn’t think she’d bite my head off or make some jab about it. Today, I noticed something on my phone that almost got me in trouble. Ned told me that someone was selling drugs next to the school. I had to leave to stop them or else who knows who might have gotten involved. I hated leaving her in class like that but I had to.

You should stop reading. You should just shut this and return it to Peter who is probably frantically looking for it. You walk into the lunch room and see him and Ned huddled together at a lunch table with MJ seated across from them. He doesn’t look in a panic. He might not know it’s gone. You should walk up to him and hand it back but you can’t stop reading. This is how you’re going to know how he feels. Instead of doing the right thing, you turn and find a secluded spot in the back and continue reading.

I can’t believe I got to leave the country! I have never thought to get a passport much less my driver’s license. Not only did I get to go to Germany, I went with Iron Man! He was like ‘Peter, I need you to come with me and help fight Captain America with me’. I was like ‘I don’t know if I should’ but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. I didn’t think I would be fighting more than Captain America, but there I was ready to give it my all! I even went up the big, bad, scary Winter Solider. He went to punch me, and I caught his metal arm. Metal arm! How cool is that?! I have never been part of something so special before.

Your mouth drops open when you read about his adventure with Captain America and Iron Man. This journal is out of order since the airport battle happened a month or so ago. Still, he was there. Is he superhuman? Someone with powers?

I kind of wish people knew I was Spider-Man. The only person who knows is Ned because he caught me crawling on the ceiling in my bedroom. I wish I could tell Y/N but she’d probably hate me more than she already does. I’m scared she’d spread that secret around school just to spite me. I truly don’t know why she hates me. I try every day to get on her good side. I like her so much. She’s so beautiful and smart and energetic. I see her around her friends all the time. I wish she was like that with me. I hate that I’m screwing this up, whatever it is we have. I don’t know how to fix it.

Guilt weighs heavily on your shoulders at the way you’ve been treating Peter. Just because you’re not as smart as him doesn’t mean you should take your frustrations out on him. It doesn’t even faze you that he’s Spider-Man. Peter noticed you in the back reading something. He knows you were there reading so it’s not like you can walk up to him now and return the diary. What would you even say?

You close the diary and shove it into your backpack before heading to your next class. Your stomach grumbles from having missed lunch but you’ll live. This is the last period of the day, so you’ll eat when you get home. Peter is in this class and just so happens to sit next to you. The teacher passes out project details you need to be paired for, and she pairs you with Peter. He’s bouncing his leg anxiously and staring at the clock.

You look at him just as the teacher sets the paper on the desk. He wants to leave. He has better things to do than sit here with you and complete some project. He fought with Captain America and has super spider powers. Why is he still in school? Peter does a double-take at you when he catches you staring at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. You look nervous. Do you need to be somewhere?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“You should go,” you whisper. Peter looks at you with a surprised look. You hate when he leaves you to do all the work. Why are you telling him to abandon you now? “I can do this by myself. Say you need to go to the bathroom or something. It’s last period anyway, so it won’t matter much.”

“Are you sure? You’re not gonna yell at me?”

His comment breaks your heart. You hate yourself for how you’ve been treating him.

“No,” you shake your head.

“Thanks.”

Peter gives you an award-winning smile and excuses himself to the bathroom. The teacher doesn’t even notice that he has grabbed all of his things. This class always goes by quickly, so you’re home before you even know it. The rest of Peter’s journal is filled with entries about how good you looked, how he saved you from a man who was following you one day, and how he doesn’t know how to confess his feelings for you.

This journal belongs back to the original owner. You scribble a note for him to find in an envelope with his name on it just in case his aunt sees this before him. Peter’s apartment is only a few blocks from yours, so you head over there knowing he probably won’t be home. He’s off being a hero somewhere, so you feel safe to drop this off without being caught. You drop the book at the front door and knock three times before leaving.

Peter answers the door having only been home for an hour to do homework before he’s off doing his hero duties. He looks down the hallway but doesn’t see anyone. He looks down and notices his journal with an envelope on top of it. He grabs it and goes to his room to read the note privately.

Peter, I am sorry for how I’ve been treating you. I want you to know that it’s not you. You’re very nice. It’s the fact that I’m jealous of how smart you are. You pass every class and get good grades while I try my best and get B’s and C’s. I know that’s not an excuse for how I’ve treated you. I wish I could take everything I said back. I hope we can be friends… maybe more than that someday. I understand if you don’t ever want to talk to me again. Anyway, I just want you to know how great and amazing you are. Keep being you. P.S Your secret is safe with me. If I ever see Spider-Man swinging about, I’ll be thinking of you. Y/N

Peter doesn't care that you read his journal. He would have if he found one lying about. He smiles at the knowledge of you knowing his biggest secret and the fact that you might have a small crush on him. He can’t wait to see you tomorrow at school.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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spiderfunkz · 1 year ago

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hi!

okokokok, what about the reader completely friend-zoning peter.

like peter is completely infatuated with nad tells her that he really likes her, but the reader's like "aww i like you a lot too! your like a brother to me"

basically the reader is oblivious to the fact that peter parker has a massive crush on them. :)

no pressure obviously but i just think that would be rly cute,

luv ya!

-victoria

✧.* STUCK BY THE GLUE.

— summary : peter was confessing his love to you, though you didn't quite get the message.

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : all fluff, oblivious!reader, teasing, friends to lovers, cheesy confessions, a kiss, happy ending because i'm soooooooo nice😝😝😛😛😛

a/n : i did gn!reader btw i hope thats ok!!!! some of the confession stuff are inspired by beabadoobee lyrics.

"what about.. number 13?" you ask.

you and peter have just finished a long week of tests. which means you now have to bombard peter with thousands of questions about his answers.

"uh, i answered b. i think." he replies, unpacking the books from his bag.

you blink, you were pretty sure you answered d. and knowing peter answered b, you were pretty sure you got that one wrong.

"do you think mr. anderson will still give me a point? because a 'd' is basically a 'b' but backwards." you explain.

"maybe, mr. anderson will probably give you a pity point." he replies, still unpacking the books from his bag. you were sitting on the edge of his bed, "i don't think mr. anderson is capable of feeling pity for anyone."

"don't think about it too much. i think you did good on your tests. i mean, you did have the best tutor." he smiles — "oh yeah! how could i forget, jimmy neutron is my tutor."

"okay. rude." he puts his hand on his chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. "what? you have brown hair, you make weird gadgets, and you're abnormally smart." you shrug.

"that's bullying."

"is calling people smart bullying now?"

"when you say it, yes. you're lucky i love you." he sits next to you.

you smile at the L word. though you were 100% sure he meant it platonically. that's what friends do, right?

"you're not gonna say it back?" he pouts.

you laugh, jokingly. but peter didn't.

"oh don't take it to heart, pete."

"can i tell you something?" his heart was racing, "yeah, of course. are you okay?" he seemed tense all of the sudden.

"there's no other way of saying this really. but i like you. a lot." he pauses, "i have never known someone quite like you. you're so pretty it actually hurts." he stutters. a lot.

"i'm having trouble finding the words for this, yet the words to describe you aren't so hard to find. you're like a fresh breath of air. like a shot of espresso. like a cold wind on a hot summer day. you're like a ribbon, laced around a braid." he rambles, "and i really, really like you."

you can't even process whatever he just said. you're not sure how to respond to any of that.

but for whatever reason, your brain can only come up with one response.

"aw, peter. i like you a lot too!

you're like a brother to me."

and with that peter's face looked like a ghost. he just poured his entire heart only for you to completely friend-zone him.

"is something wrong?" you ask.

"you did not just pull that card on me."

"what card?"

peter sighs, covering his face with his hand in utter embarrassment.

"oh." you realize. "let's just forget everything i just said. anyways, what did you get for number 16?" peter changes the topic.

"peter-"

"or maybe number 15? i heard gwen say that was the hardest question."

"peter!"

"or number 3? have you asked me about number 3 yet? i can explain number 3 to you."

he won't listen, so you shut him up,

by kissing him.

now, you aren't doing this because you feel bad. but you truly do have feelings for peter. you don't know why it took peter to finally confess to you for you to realize. but you do. you really do.

"now can you please just listen."

peter's cheeks were bright red, he nodded.

"i really like you too peter and gosh, i wish i realized sooner." you were struggling to find the right words to continue, just like peter did a few minutes ago.

"i like you. i like your messy brown hair, i like your weird gadgets and when you ramble about them, i like how caring you are and how patient you are all the time with me."

"and i love you too."

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itsscromp · 1 year ago

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I have a cute idea! Insomniac Peter and Miles with a Reader who's 15 (so like the age most spiders start their crime fighting) and because their so new to fighting they're a ball of sunshine, but unfortunately bad at smack talk? Like they'll be fighting someone and the criminal will give a hurtful insult and they'll just be all 'yeah? Well you're dumb! 😡'

Peter parker and Miles Morales x reader

Definitely didn't look up youtube video compilations of all their quips for fun of it after you made this request >D lol, also apologies for the delay. Word count:660

Being the Spider-Hero was the most rewarding and challenging experience you had ever faced in your 15 years of being on this planet. But your mentors Peter and Miles helped you learn and master your powers in no time at all. But the one thing that they didn't help you with... was smack talk.

It was one of the things that made Peter and Miles who they were and roll with the punches. Like today when they have gotten a tip-off of a potential hunter base. The three of you then swung into action.

"Morning fella's, who's ready for there fresh cup of bodily harm ??" Peter called out to them.

"Don't let the spiders escape !!" One hunter shouted and the fight began.

"Is really the best time to do smack talk ??" You told peter as you fought your group of hunters.

"It's pretty much a part of the job !!" You could tell he was smiling under his mask.

Miles was blaring out his own smack talk as well.

"If you guys tried this at a real job, you wouldn't need to be hunters"

You were so baffled but amazed at the same time how they could be able to do this and maintain focus into the fights.

When one hunter was facing you, you prepared for yours...

"You really think, That an incompetent child playing dress up can stop me ??!!" He readied his swords.

"Oh yeah... well... Your just dumb !!" You blurted out as the hunter then lunged at you.

Peter and Miles heard your quip and couldn't help but slightly cringe at that, You really needed some help with your quips and smack talk. So once you were done with dealing with the hunters, Peter and Miles then guided you to a nearby building and then took off their masks.

"What's wrong ??, did I not do good ??" You asked slightly concerned as you took off your mask.

"No no not at all, You did amazing y/n, Your training has paid off. It's just... Your smack talk maaaaay need some work." Peter told you.

"Oh... that..." You looked down embarrassingly.

"Hey It's ok" He smiled softly as he wrapped his arm around you. "Like anything Miles and I will help you."

"Yeah, Look sometimes I still have trouble with my smack talk even if I've done this for nearly a year" Miles pitched in.

"Ok... thank you guys" You smiled.

So over the next week, they began to help you with your smack talk, Slow and steadily they helped you go over different situations and picked perfect moments to bring it out

"Hey... I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye..., Is that good ??" You asked.

"Close... but you really gotta feel the passion and motivation when it comes with it." Miles helped you.

So even when you went home, you practised in the mirror your smack talk and got better and better over time, even coming up with some original lines of your own.

Until one day you were ready to show the two your amazing new quips and puns. You found another hunter base and one of the hunters recognised you and growled.

"After all this time, your still just an ignorant child" He snarled at you.

You smirked under your mask as he said that.

"True, but that's just apart of my charm isn't it ??"

Peter and Miles were surprised and happy when they heard that. Your practice really paid off. And as you continued to fight the hunters, you showed off your new vocabularies.

"You and the other spiders will be crushed by Kraven's hands !!!"

"Awww you can't fool me Mr gruff exterior I know ya love me, and I love ya too !!"

Peter and Miles were so proud of you, once they finished the fight, they congratulated you on graduating into a full Spider-Hero now !!, You couldn't be more proud of yourself.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #insomniac spider man #insomniac games peter parker #insomniac games #Insomniac games miles morales #insomniac miles morales #insomniac peter parker #peter parker x reader #miles morales x reader #Miles Morales #peter parker #Spider-man x reader

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months ago

Text

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 10

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 10 Expedient Action

Steve watches as the kid’s lower lip trembles, his stubborn little cleft chin moving along with it, and he hums sadly. “Do you remember the last time you were happy, Bucky?”

The boy shrugs, won’t meet his eyes. “Dunno,” he eventually says.

Steve nods, having expected as much. Slowly, he curls his fingers over the top of the towel at Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s stomach sucks in with tension when he realizes that Steve intends to pull the towel off him, but he makes no move to try and stop it. Steve lets it fall to the floor, then looks at Bucky’s lap, eyes briefly considering the state of the omega’s rigid little prick, before sliding to the side to look at his leg. Sadness fills him again at seeing them, even though he’d known they were there.

Right along the top of Bucky’s left thigh are a series of pale lines. Scars, lined up in a tidy little row that begins at his hipbone and ends several inches before the knee. Most are white, but some are pink, still in various stages of healing from the recent past. Months old, but not years. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands when he tries to cover himself. “It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble.”

Bucky whines and tugs his hands away. “Leave me alone,” he groans, sounding miserable. Steve has no doubt that he is, though that doesn’t mean that he’s not aroused, as well. Steve could smell his slick as soon as he’d gotten out of the shower, and it’s only intensified since then. Understandable, after what they’d witnessed from the doorway of Parker’s room. (Steve really needs to give Natasha a good bonus this semester. That woman knows how to get a task done.)

With the towel discarded, Bucky’s scent is rich and unimpeded, that pleasant mix of loamy earth and spiced verbena combining to arouse Steve’s senses. Virtually all omegas smell nice at bare minimum. Even ones pregnant by other alphas still smell good, if not particularly arousing. But again, he’s reminded that the notes of Bucky’s scent stand out to him more than what he’s accustomed to, pulling at all the baser instincts that live in the back of his brain.

He tries his best not to let his enjoyment of it show, but there’s only so much a man can do. He’s wearing his own special brand of compression underwear at the moment. Made for alphas, thank god, or else there’d be a very different situation at the front of his slacks right now. The bloody things are tight as fuck, but they do a good job at concealing all but the most aggressive of boners. And for an alpha who spends his days surrounded by hundreds of teenaged omegas reaching the peak of their sexual maturity, they are a godsend.

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s leg, right over the scars. Oh Sweetheart, he thinks mournfully. Who did this to you? He lets his thumb trace one silvery-thin line, probably one of the oldest, and hushes Bucky’s whimper when it comes. “When did you start doing this, Honey?” he asks, being careful to keep his voice as gentle and as coaxing as he can. “Shh. It’s okay.” Poor thing’s just embarrassed as all get-out, and Steve isn’t trying to scold him. “When, Bucky?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Couple’a years ago, I guess. I don’t do it anymore. Not … not much.”

“That makes sense,” Steve observes. He’s baiting Bucky, and it works.

The kid peeks up at him. “It does?”

“Sure. Your heats mature at about fifteen, sixteen. That’s when it gets harder. Without a safe and consistent partner with you each cycle, you’re not going to be very fulfilled.” He watches as Bucky frowns down at his lap and thinks about that. “Has that been your experience?” he prods gently. “Feeling unfulfilled?”

“I … no.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Want to try saying that like you mean it?”

Bucky grimaces. “I mean, I didn’t use to think so. It just was what it was, y’know? Most kids don’t have a heat partner, so I figured I was just bein’ oversensitive. I at least had Brock. … Once in a while, anyways.”

“Hm.”

“I thought that was good,” he says, looking to Steve for confirmation in a way that is pitifully naïve. “Nobody else pairs. Unless they’re dating. And even then, people have lives. They can’t just stop everything for a week every single month. That’d be ridiculous.”

“Right,” Steve says, hating this. He wants to growl and bundle Bucky up and make him see how neglected he’s been, how he deserves so much more. “You felt like you had to make due on your own.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I could get a hookup, at least for the second day of my heat. Those are usually the worst.” Bucky looks away, evasive. “And … I tried some things.”

“Suppressants?”

“Yeah. But before I figured out how to get a doctor to prescribe ‘em, I used to steal Ransom’s credit card to buy some of those supplements you see in the infomercials. You know: with the testimonials and everything? People saying how good they work?”

“How well they work,” Steve corrects under his breath. “Those are expensive.”

“Hundred and fifty bucks plus shipping, every month,” Bucky confirms. “Well, at least until Ransom noticed it on his credit card statement.” He colors a little and admits, “I also tried those things they sell over the counter at the pharmacy. Those, erm, those things that you can take. That you stick up your—”

“I’m familiar,” Steve drawls. “So, you put multiple things in your body without knowing what was in them.”

“Well I figured they couldn’t sell ‘em on tv if it wasn’t safe,” Bucky defends. “And besides, everybody does it.”

“Not exactly winning me over, here, kid.”

“Look, you don’t understand!” he snaps. “You’re alpha. You don’t get it. Heats are stupid, they're not fun. They just get in everybody’s way, and these products help. They help quality of life. They help make it less of a problem.”

Steve holds back the actual growl that wants to come at hearing such a tragic pile of tripe. “Did you ever stop to wonder why it’s always your natural biology that gets labeled as the ‘problem’, hm? Always something to be fixed, rather than something you’re entitled to? Something you deserve to have accommodated?”

Bucky blinks a few times in a row, mouth working. “Well … no. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh is it?”

“It is if you want to make it anywhere in life. Get into a good school, get a good job, work your way up at some company.” He blithely rattles off the examples, speaking like this is all pre-determined truth, and Steve is the only idiot who hasn’t been clued in. “People won’t hire you if you need all that time off of work and stuff. You’ve got to make yourself as good as a beta employee, at least. Otherwise nobody’ll hire you.”

Steve nods solemnly. “Yeah, well that’s where I take issue. I think omega rights—true omega rights—demand that society value omegas for what they naturally are. And that means allowing them the space and time they need for their cycles, not treating it as something inconvenient, not expecting people to use a bunch of drugs to try and force themselves into some, some …” He makes a frustrated gesture. “Some employable box.”

“Well yeah, I guess. But—”

“Omegas deserve to have their contributions as mothers and homemakers valued, too,” Steve asserts, then narrows his eyes at Bucky when the kid rolls his eyes. “You scoff, but the omegas who consistently rank highest in self-reported life satisfaction are those who choose to take on domestic roles. The only thing career omegas consistently rank highest on is level of antidepressant usage. It’s a trend we’ve seen increasing ever since the seventies.”

“Right,” Bucky snaps. “Back in the good old days when we didn’t have any rights.”

“That’s not true,” Steve says sternly. “Omegas had all the same rights as other designations, it was culture that was different. There was a place carved out in society for them. Omegas’ natural affinities were valued. Those who did work were able to find jobs that fit their lifestyles and needs. Now, employers expect you to change yourself for the job, just like you said.” He shakes his head sadly. “One could make the argument that that’s equality, but it sure as hell ain’t fair. Betas and alphas have society shaped to fit their needs, and omegas simply have to try and force themselves into difficult spaces just to get by. I don’t think it’s right that the way we do things is geared towards what alphas and betas naturally need, and nothing that’s naturally omega is accommodated for anymore. Do you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, but his posture slumps with uncertainty the more he considers what's being said.

Steve softens his tone to something more gentle. “That’s why I think the erasure of gender roles is unhealthy, Buck. Not because I’m a sexist who hates omegas and doesn’t want them to be able to do anything, but because I think you guys deserve so much better. So much more.” He watches Bucky’s face, the growing doubt in his features, and figures it’s time to stop with the proselytizing. He's given the kid something to think on. That's good enough for now. It is bedtime, after all. “Just think on it a bit,” he advises kindly. “You’ve had a lot of experiences, but there’s still a lot for you to learn. Try and do it with an open mind, okay? You might come to see one or two things a little differently.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily, but Steve can tell when his point is getting through. Most students start to come around to considering the school's curricular viewpoint by the one week mark. After a week of constant offers to have his needs fulfilled—and constant refusal of those offers—it’s pretty obvious that Bucky is nearing the turning point. Steve decides to end this little talk on a positive note. He gives him one final pat on his legs. “Okay, Hon. Time for bed.” He stands up and observes the way that Bucky seems to physically stall, unable to quickly process Steve’s sudden departure.

“You’re leaving?” he blurts.

Steve offers him a gentle smile. “Would you like for me to scent anything? Maybe a blanket or a pillow?” Right now there’s only a sheet and a single, thin blanket on the bed. He thumbs backward at the room’s cabinet of nesting supplies. “The nurse said you’re mid-cycle. The urge to nest must be waxing rather than waning at this point, yeah?”

Bucky seems surprised by the offer, but after a moment he nods shyly. “Maybe an extra blanket wouldn’t be so bad.”

Steve turns and goes to grab a blanket out of the cabinet and scent it, taking Bucky’s compliance as a significant win. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and is doubly pleased when Bucky makes no snippy remark at the gendered praise. He doesn’t face Bucky as he scents the top edge of the blanket with his wrist and then his neck. He doesn’t want to push his luck and make the boy so embarrassed that he’ll revert back to his pattern of disrespectful misbehavior. It’s always a balancing act, with new students, but once you get the right combination of domination, kindness, and familiarity? That's when things begin to smooth out.

Bucky takes the blanket with a bashful, “Thank you,” when Steve hands it over, and Steve gives him a quiet rumble of praise for being polite.

“You’re welcome, Honey.” Bucky moves like he’ll get under the blankets, but Steve stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on a sec. You forgetting something?” Bucky blinks vacantly up at him, and Steve can’t help but chuckle. “We don’t sleep naked, do we?”

Bucky looks back down at himself, like he’d forgotten he was naked in the first place. “Oh.”

Steve fetches him a pair of underwear from the room’s dresser. The students’ nighttime briefs aren’t dissimilar to what they wear under their uniforms during the day, but they consist of one piece rather than two, and the padding’s a bit more … thorough, meant to help deter wandering hands at night. Steve finds himself unable to look away as Bucky puts them on, sliding them up his legs with shaky fingers and whimpering near subvocally when his leaking prick gets covered up by the padding. His hands fist the bedsheets at either side of his hips, and for a second his face gets red and his eyes go unfocused.

Oh Jesus. Steve grinds his teeth at the display, unhappy to feel his own cock pulsing insistently against the seam of his slacks. Bucky’s tortured, straining efforts to not touch himself are near-pornographic to watch, making that warm, sexual urge swirl up harder in Steve’s belly than before. He shifts in place and flexes his hands as he tries to think of something to counter the pulsing in his dick—picturing his grandparents fucking is his usual failsafe, in times like this. He doesn’t want his scent to grow so strong that it affects Bucky right now. Not when they’re ending the night on such a positive note.

The thought of Nana and Pawpaw doing the nasty does the trick, and Steve retreats to the doorway. He hums in approval as he watches Bucky climb into bed and get settled. He nests only the barest bit, almost tentatively, tucking the scented end of the blanket up alongside his pillow and draping the rest of it over his body. He curls up on his side and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. Steve waits with his hand poised to flip the light switch. “You have everything you need?” he checks, giving Bucky one final chance to be honest about his needs.

But he simply tucks his face into the scented blanket and closes his eyes. “Uh huh.” His still-damp hair is stark against the white pillowcase, and Steve’s heart gives a fond twinge at the sight.

It does dry curly.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He flicks the lights off, knowing that by tomorrow morning, he’ll have a punishable offense to address with the boy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“… Night, Steve.”

Despite the excellent performance of composure that he’s managed to maintain with Bucky for the past few hours, all that time with the omega really has taken its toll. Steve is relieved to get back and shut himself away in the confines of his office. It feels like a sanctuary right now. It’s a deep mental and physical relaxation that hits him as soon as he sinks into his desk chair and inhales the professionally filtered, pheromone-free air of the room.

“Ahh," he sighs, rubbing at his temples. "God save the queen. Fuck."

Compared to other alphas, he’s got excellent control of his reactions and is able to mask a great deal (an invaluable skill when one works with hordes of hormonally-peaking teenagers), but the end of the school day always provides a bit of relief—today more than most.

He opens his laptop and leaves it to boot up while he goes over over to pour himself a drink. He pulls out one of the cork-coated lowballs that he keeps in the freezer (because he prefers his drinks on the rocks, but whether he likes it or not Peggy’s had an influence on him these past twenty years, and he knows it’s blasphemy to add ice to a 30 year old Scotch). He eyeballs a finger of the liquor—okay, maybe closer to two fingers—and brings it back to his desk to sniff it and swirl it around.

It’s a vintage that one of Peggy’s relatives gifted them years ago, worth quite a bit of money apparently, and it’s been Steve’s one petty protest amongst the many bigger ones of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He’s only begun making use of it since their divorce proceedings intensified over the summer, with Peggy’s obstinance against fair division of assets reaching damningly selfish levels. Steve never thought of her as someone who’d go for the nerves in a divorce just for the hell of it, and it’s upsetting to see that nastier side exposed. It feels like all his good memories are slowly being tainted by it, made ugly and ruined, like paint thrown over a fine portrait of the woman he’d once admired. Steve’s not a heavy drinker, but he’s nearly made his way through the entire bottle these past few weeks.

At his desk, he peruses current events on his newsfeed and a few academic articles of interest, being sure to sip steadily despite his leanings as a teetotaler. He wants to feel a bit of a buzz by the time he dares to brave his inbox. The little icon tells him that he’s got dozens of unread emails waiting in there. Not unusual for a weekday, but there’s one from Peggy that he purposefully puts off for last. And surprisingly, there’s one email each from the personal accounts of both Tony Stark and Harlan Thrombey.

He clicks on Stark’s first, expecting the email to contain more demands for the accommodations he wants for the upcoming parents’ weekend. Sure enough, Stark doesn’t disappoint, asking Steve to please arrange for a 2-minute slot for one Ms. Pepper Potts to speak during that coming Sunday’s evening ball. It’s during said ball when the school has its traditional slew of scheduled, “spontaneous” rounds of toasts over betrothal announcements. Steve’s happy to agree to a slot for Ms. Potts, just grateful that it won’t be Stark himself making the speech. Thank god for small favors.

Stark also has a footnote jotted in, as though it’s a nothing, requesting a black Rolls Royce Phantom to pick them up afterwards to take them to their hotel in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. In the distinct manner that Steve’s learned only multi-millionaires ever really have, Tony blithely throws out his specifications for the car’s interior temperature (73 degrees Fahrenheit, precisely), a fully-stocked bar, and a selection of snacks and juice boxes that sounds suspiciously catered to a certain omega's tastes.

Smirking and shaking his head, Steve spends a moment researching the costs of this additional, last-minute amenity. He tacks an extra two grand onto the price and shoots the email back with an inflated invoice that brings him no guilt. Academia is little better than a break-even industry, after all. And besides, Stark can afford it.

Normally, Steve would save any email of Peggy’s for last, but given his growing obsession with interest in Bucky’s case, he decides to save Thrombey’s email for last.

Peggy’s email is also very typical of what Steve’s come to expect from her: curt, concise, and infuriatingly presumptive.

📨Peggy: Asset Divisions Update

Steven, it reads, My solicitor will be in touch after this next weekend with an updated proposal for division of assets. I did not find your last offer acceptable. Mr. Jorgensen is out of the country on account of an emergency this week, which is the reason for the delay. I do apologize and hope you will understand. In the meantime, I look forward to enjoying a pleasant and uncompromised parents’ weekend with our two schools. I’ll be in touch soon, in regards to those preparations. Cordially, Peggy.

Steve sneers at the ‘cordially’. “More like cold as ice,” he grumbles, grabbing the glass of scotch to toss back the last few sips. Parents’ weekend is going to be hell, having to be in such constant proximity with her.

Thrombey’s email is long and flowery, in the distinct manner that only novelists ever really have. He rambles on, bemoaning the state of his grandson for several long paragraphs before getting to the point. Finally, he lays out the issue, and it is a doozy:

📨Thrombey: Expedient Action Required

—has come to my attention that the boy has been engaging in a form of online prostitution. Something called only fans.”

Steve’s jaw drops as he feels the blood drain from his face. Oh no. Bucky wouldn’t … would he? Shit. He totally would. Steve’s eyes flick back to the email.

—can imagine my horror to find that for a monthly fee, subscribers have access to his nude photos. I hadn’t the stomach to look myself, but Ransom assures me it’s all him on the webpage. There are even videos, and Ransom says that James’ face is visible in some of the footage. His face! This is outrageous!

“You’re telling me,” Steve mutters.

Thankfully, the Academy’s structure seems to have put an end to his production. There’s been no new footage uploaded since the week before his enrollment. My lawyers are working on having the account erased, and I can only pray that nothing comes to light publicly before then. Now more than ever, an intervention is required for my grandson. His eligibility for a good marriage will be out the window if word of this pornography spreads, his prospects ruined. I want you to put your full efforts into seeing him matched up with a suitable Alpha as soon as possible. I don’t care who it is, what nationality they are, if it’s a triad, if there’s no notable family name—nothing. All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment. Do be thorough in your searching, but do not drag your feet! I’m sure I needn’t explain how damaging this will be to my family, if word gets out. I am counting on you to take expedient action, H. Thrombey

At the bottom of the email is a link. It’s to an OnlyFans page. Steve’s heart rate picks up and he hesitates for a long moment, knowing that he shouldn’t look. Harlan’s lawyers are handling it.

But his morbid curiosity wins out, and he clicks on the link. It leads directly to Bucky’s personal page, and Steve experiences a very unpleasant combination of sensations: his dick filling with blood at the same time that his stomach turns from seeing the images that are on the page’s banners. It’s Bucky’s body, that’s for sure, with his face cleverly turned away or artfully clipped from the shots. Below the title page and summary are links to “Exclusive new hot videos!” with 3 second thumbnails of Bucky’s ass moving, his back arching, his hand moving over his—

Steve looks away from the computer screen, furious and aroused and mortified. “Goddammit, Bucky,” he hisses, angry that the kid has done something so inherently damaging—not just to his reputation like Harlan is thinking, but to himself, to his soul. Steve’s stomach churns something awful at knowing that this stuff is available for any creep with a credit card to purchase … and at his own reaction to even the barest glimpses of it. He peeks up again, this time reading the titles of the videos:

“Hot O-on-O action!”

“Omega dominates Alpha Slut”

“Horny Teen Twink in Heat”

His jaw ticks angrily. What fucking awful, typical titles. He looks down at his cock, which is visibly pressing against the seam of his slacks. “Fuck,” he groans. He can’t jerk off to porn of Bucky. He can’t. It’d be beyond unethical. Even if the kid was his mate, Steve would still feel the moral obligation to—

Oh. Well there’s an idea.

His brain stalls on the thought of him as Bucky’s mate, his Alpha, in charge of him and giving him what he needs … and taking what he wants. Mortifyingly, a growl builds up in his chest as he glances once more at the thumbnails of Bucky doing lurid things. The kid’s got such tight, smooth skin; such a perfect, pretty shape. Steve’s mind slips into editorial mode, imagining what it would be like if Bucky was his, the omega’s ass moving under his hips, his back arching in his bed, his quivering hands smacked away from his cocklet while Steve rails him from behi—

Jesus fucking Christ. Stop!

His hand is halfway to his pocket when he realizes that he’s reaching for his wallet, contemplating buying a subscription just so that he can see. Disgust floods his chest, extinguishing the growl, and he snaps out of it. He pushes away from the desk and stomps over to grab the bottle of Scotch and bring it back, dumping himself back in his desk chair and heedlessly pouring another fill.

And so what? he thinks. Who cares if he finishes the whole fucking bottle? He might as fucking well. His wife, the woman who agreed to be his life partner, who placated him with endless promises of “one day” and then went ice cold and bitter and reneged on everything she’d ever claimed to want with him, is putting him through the wringer just for shits and giggles. And now come to find out, his newest pupil, a boy for whom he’s got way too much personal interest, is selling himself on the internet—For $9.99 a month?!!! The videos seem to cost extra on a pay-per-view basis, but even still, what the ever-loving fuck?!

Steve’s whole body stiffens as something else occurs to him: Harlan’s email said that Bucky’s face is visible in the videos. Bucky’s stepfather reported that to Harlan. Which means he's seen the videos. Which means …

Steve’s jaw ticks as he glances back to the computer screen, to Bucky’s homepage and the free lurid teaser photos that don’t show his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, angry. That Drysdale guy had been a prick during the tour of the campus, and now Steve knows what a fucking pervert he is, too. Because the only way he could know that Bucky’s face is shown is if he bought the subscription and paid extra for the videos.

Steve closes out the browser window, not wanting to see any more of it. The warring disgust and temptation to be one of those creeps who pays money to view omegas degrade themselves is just too much. He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket and chucks it angrily at the couch, missing by a country mile. He takes a gulp of the Scotch, exhaling harshly at the burn as it goes down. “Fuck.”

Pornography for omegas carries a heavy social stigma—far beyond what any beta or alpha porn star would ever face, and deeper in the nature of its contempt and consequence. Omegas who do porn make big bucks, because they’re making an even bigger trade-off. Engaging in any sort of sex work virtually erases an omega's chance of mating. It hadn’t merely been upper crust snobbery in Harlan’s email, but common sense as well. People from all walks of life treat omega sex workers as an untouchable caste, damaged goods, not worthy of real relationships.

It’s one of the few holdovers from the old days, even though porn isn’t what it once was. It’s easier to make than ever. Amateur is in. Omegas who would’ve once been exploited by large production companies now work from home, in control of their own content creation. More and more of them are choosing get rich quick schemes over mating, turning to platforms like OnlyFans and giving away their most sacred gifts to any scum bucket with a credit card. Ruining their lives.

Steve loosens his tie and takes another gulp of liquor before setting the glass down heavily. His hands go resolutely back to his laptop with what he knows he has to do. It sickens him that he even has to do it in the first place. He considers himself a man of morals, a man who lives by his word. But in this one thing, he’s let himself become a hypocrite. He navigates to his internet bookmarks and opens the subfolder marked “Meditations.” It’s his porn stash. Favorite videos he’s saved for lonely nights. Nothing too wild, but virtually all of it involves omegas. Watching A/o porn has been his guilty pleasure for … a while.

He used to avoid it on principle, but these past few years have been different, his desires harder to ignore, the urge to bond, mate, and breed pooling in the back of his brain and the pit of his belly, winding him tight with a tension that he doesn’t like. At first, he’d just chalked it up to being a horny bastard, but that wasn’t it. The unrelenting tension came with a hollow, forlorn ache that refused to go away. Even after a good jerk off session imagining himself in one of those videos, it never went away for long. It’d taken Steve a long time to figure out what that ache really was. For the first time in his life, he felt unfulfilled.

He only hesitates a second before right clicking on the folder and pressing delete, a grim sense of rightness settling over him at the action. He should’ve done it long ago. He shouldn’t have compromised his values in the first place. Of course he’d made all sorts of excuses for it: the porn was amateur, it was self-made, the omegas were getting off and enjoying themselves, he wasn’t paying for it, maybe the Alphas in the videos were actually their mates.

And then of course, the lamest excuse of all: that he deserved to watch it, because his erstwhile wife was ruining everything.

He closes out the browser window and frowns at his reflection on the screen. “Lame,” he mutters. He opens Harlan’s email back up and begins drafting a response, assuring the man that he has nothing to worry about, that Steve will find Bucky a suitable match in no time.

He uses one of the school’s proprietary databases that tracks eligible bachelors, typing in search parameters for sex and nationality (any), net worth (≥ €2,000,000) and age (25-45). Alphas live longer than other designations, so he isn’t worried about being too picky on the age range. Just so long as it isn’t some young sap who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. Bucky needs a firm hand and lots of attention. He needs an Alpha who can handle him with gentle dominance, who’ll know when to be indulgent and when to put their foot down.

Steve can’t say why he picks €2m to be the cutoff point for a prospective Alpha’s net worth. Maybe he likes the idea of Bucky being given an easy, comfortable life. And if he sets the search results to list from lowest to highest net worth, well … maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of Bucky being smothered by ludicrous levels of wealth (like Parker’s undoubtedly about to be).

The list of possibilities starts with a landowner in rural Scotland, and ends with an Israeli shipping magnate based out of Cairo. Steve scrolls through the profiles, dismissing anyone he deems unworthy of being Bucky’s mate. Too ugly, too ugly, too fat, too old, too many divorces, too ugly, too ugly. Nobody seems good enough. Steve finds flaws in every profile he sees. And underneath it all, the thought remains: he could be Bucky’s mate.

He shakes his head like he can rattle the idea loose, thinking: don’t be stupid, Rogers. He’s the headmaster here. Taking a student as a mate would be a violation of his professional duties. Not illegal, hell, not even technically against the rules, but certainly embarrassing, perhaps bordering on … unseemly. Parents entrust him with their omega sons to train them up and secure good matches for them, not to mate them himself.

… But Harlan’s email had specifically said that nothing else mattered. Not race, nor gender, nor pedigree. ‘All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment’.

All Steve can think about is how that could be him. He could be Bucky’s Alpha. He could take care of him, provide for him, have a family with him. Pieces of an imaginary life layer up in his mind like paper mâché, one on top of the other, slowly congealing into a picture that makes the yearning in his gut that much worse. He imagines Bucky as his omega, living in the Pendergast Street cottage together, a scar on Bucky’s neck; holing up in the house’s nesting closet with him each month, fucking him through his heats, getting him pregnant, watching him give birth and nurse their baby inside a bundle of blankets that have Steve’s scent on them.

He’s always wanted kids. Peggy had, too, or so she said. They’d talked about it infrequently, but they had talked about it. How one day they’d mate an omega and live a blissful family life, have a traditional triad marriage. But that was the problem: they’d only ever talked about it. And on the rare occasion when they had, Steve was always the one to bring the topic up. He hadn’t realized that, hadn’t realized how often Peggy’s only input wound up being an obfuscating ‘one day’.

The day when she finally nutted up and said that she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t want an omega mate in their marriage, didn’t want babies, was the day Steve finally uttered the word that’d been sitting on the back of his tongue for months: “Divorce.”

He still wants to have that intimacy with an omega: bonding them, sharing their heats, getting them pregnant and watching them grow, seeing his child in their arms. He thinks of Bucky in that role, imagines how the boy would take to it, what their first time would be like, if he’d instinctually know to go ass up in the bed or if he’d need to fight it a little, have his alpha toss him around and hold him down before he could accept a knot. If he’d get quiet right before coming, or shriek and thrash and dissolve into agonized tears.

“Fuck,” Steve groans, letting his hand slide over the top of his thigh and into the crease of his groin. He palms himself there, gripping his dick and giving a few short tugs from over the material of his slacks. He looks down and stares at the hard line his boner makes, imagining Bucky being here and seeing it, putting his hand there, how much smaller it’d be than Steve’s, how much less experienced. God, Steve wants to guide him through that, teach him how to touch a man, watch the nervousness and arousal play out on his face as he learns how to please an alpha for the first time.

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, thinking about the little noises Bucky would make, the little protests and growls, and the slick that would drip down his thighs and betray him. Steve wonders how the kid touches himself, thinks back to that first day in his office, when he’d asked him how he liked to make himself come. Bucky hadn’t gotten around to answering before he’d lost control of his body, wetting up his underwear in submissive release and going a fascinated shade of red once Steve cooed at him over it.

He’s never had a student release like that before. Not that easily. And he’s just so fucking pretty, even his anger is pretty. Steve grits his teeth at how he can feel his self restraint slipping. He thinks of Harlen’s email: find him a mate, anyone will do. Well if anyone will do, then why the fuck shouldn’t he put himself in the running?

Bucky is low hanging fruit, so fucking ripe for the picking, and Steve just knows he could get him to bend so beautifully with only a little bit of tender care. He could have him happy and content in no time, releasing at the barest show of dominance, just like before. He can still hear that warbling, humiliated whimper that came right after Bucky wet for him, the way his big, confused eyes had looked to Steve for help …

“Goddammit.” He hastily undoes his belt and fly. He shoves his pants and underwear down to free his dick, wrapping a hand around himself and squeezing tightly at the base. His knot is already dark and aching, halfway to being erect after less than a minute of touching himself. He wrings his fist up under the head, forcing the skin over the tip and jacking off with it, guts coiling tighter at the tiny, wet sounds it makes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He takes his hand off, not wanting to come too fast. He slumps back in the desk chair for a moment, panting, and remembers two things at almost the exact same second: He needs to check the surveillance in Bucky’s room, and he’s got a pocket masturbator in his desk drawer. Well, fuck.

He all but lunges for the drawer, yanking it open and cursing when he sees it. He grabs the toy and holds it to the tip of his cock, moving his hips to push the head through in tiny, teasing little pulses. Oh god, it feels amazing. He pulls it off and reaches for his laptop, opening the school’s surveillance mainframe and navigating to the dormitory views. He clicks on the camera for Bucky’s bedroom and toggles the night vision to on. At first it doesn’t look like much is happening, but then he catches the slight movement of Bucky’s body beneath the blanket … and he moans all over again.

“You little fuck,” he breathes, grabbing the masturbator to slide it all the way over his dick. “Ughn.”

Bucky’s touching himself from underneath the blankets. He’s lying in the same position that Steve left him in, only now his eyes are clenched shut tight and he’s panting open-mouthed into the pillow, his one shoulder angled in such a way as to suggest that he’s got his hand reached behind him. His arm moves in tiny, barely-there pulses. Steve realizes that, unless Bucky’s got the longest fingers known to mankind, he’s using a toy on himself back there.

“Nnh.” He squeezes the silicon sleeve over his cock, dragging it up and down in time with the motions of Bucky’s shoulder, imagining that it’s Bucky he’s feeling around his cock, imagining that Bucky’s feeling him. “Naughty boy,” he grunts through a grin. He knew Bucky would be jerking off once left alone, but this is even better. Steve regrets not watching the feed from the moment he left, as he’d love to know just what the toy looks like, and where Bucky was hiding it. Somewhere in his luggage, obviously. New students are always searched when they arrive, but clearly the boy managed to get something past bag check. Steve almost feels admiration for the sneaky little shit.

He pushes the unmute button and listens to the audio. At first it’s just the quiet rustling of fabric on fabric, the stirring of Bucky’s body against the sheets as he pleasures himself, but then a tiny, breathy moan breaks through, and then another. Steve’s hips flex into his stroking hand. “Oh, Honey.”

Bucky’s face is pinched and he’s biting his lip—probably trying to keep quiet. The notion makes Steve smirk. Omegas are very vocal in their sexual pleasure, prone to keening and squealing and making all sorts of warbling, debased noises when they’re feeling good. It must be the most exquisite torture for Bucky to try and stay silent like this as he fucks himself on whatever toy he’s managed to sneak in. Steve watches it with a tightening belly and aching balls, twisting the rubber sleeve over himself again and again, bumping down hard against his knot on every stroke. “Fffuck.”

In the frame, Bucky’s voice catches on a single, high pitched noise as he comes, his body going rigid under the sheets and his hips pulsing harder than before. He whimpers and turns his face further into the pillow to muffle it, but Steve is already right there too, jerking himself hard and fast with the sleeve until he shouts and starts to shoot. His knot blows inside of the rubber, which isn’t as good as the real thing, but still feels fucking amazing. He keeps his dick fully buried and squeezes the toy hard over his knot, milking himself until his hand cramps and he lets go. The toy pops off his cock and falls to the floor, and Steve goes boneless in his chair as he shivers through the long wave of his orgasm.

When it’s finally over and he looks back at the computer screen, it’s to see Bucky carefully rearranging himself under the blankets. Whatever it was that he’d used to fuck himself, he seems to be keeping it hidden between the mattress and the room’s wall. Steve plays idly with his knot while he waits for it to go down, deciding that the kid gloves need to come off now. It’s time Bucky learned just what it means to be taken in hand by an Alpha. And with the development of the online porn and Harlan’s request, there’s no longer need or time to play things slow and easy.

Tomorrow, Steve’ll finally do what he should’ve done from the get-go, what he’s been wanting to do ever since Bucky trounced into his office with a bad attitude and false bravado. From here on out, he’s going to take proper care of that boy. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to handle Bucky’s education himself. And if things progress from there? Well, Harlan said anyone will do.

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@laylamikaelsonbarnes

@leighta

@drfellow

@era

@smlmsworld

@mrsstuckyboo

@banneriscarried

@saltyllamakidwombat

@blackhawkfanatic

@scarlettmischief

@chibijusstuff

@caplanbuckybarnes

@downriverfellow

@kitasownworld

28 notes · View notes