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fairydares · 2 years ago

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Chasing Tails Chapter Three: Trees and...

AO3 Link; fanfiction.net link ; Chapter 1 on here (you can find the “back of the book”-type summary here or at one of the other links)

Chapter Summary: Natsu finds a tree. Nashi finds Natsu. (Happy voice) And then...!

Author’s Notes:

First and foremost: Chapter 3 took forever for me to publish. Oops.

I genuinely expected zero people to read this, so when it actually got some hits, and I even got kudos, comments, reviews, reblogs, likes, and favorites (Thanks so much! You have no idea how much you guys helped!) I had an, “oh, shit” moment where I realized I actually care about making this story halfway decent. A lot of the work I did went to outlining and research (even though most of the research will be blatantly ignored lol). I hope it will pay off and allow me to publish chapters more frequently, but I have also been busy.

NOW. onto notes that are actually important to the story:

Initially, Layla’s earthbound last name was “Turner.” It was supposed to be her last foster family’s surname. However, I edited and changed it to O’Neil because I realized that made more sense. Sorry for any confusion. I went back and edited a couple other details, too, but nothing too big.

For anyone waiting for smut/lemons, I’m going to try to label chapters with lemons (at least on AO3). We’ll see how that goes. Nothing this chapter.

*Content Warnings:

Almost everything to do with Nashi’s upbringing on Our Earth is a very inaccurate portrayal of CPS, foster care, and the police. I didn’t bother doing deep research on those things because it’s only vaguely relevant to most of the story. Please criticize cops and the failings of the foster care system, just not on the basis of this fic.

Also: Drug & Alcohol abuse mentions; swearing; graphic violence; nausea & puke mentions; ignorant ableism (mostly by Nashi/Layla, whose top personality trait ATM is “just wrong” but still); bullying mentions; death mentions (not any OC’s); discussions of sex.

tbh, most of that’s gonna be standard fare for this fic.

*Tumblr-Specific Tip: I recommend scrolling to the bottom and reading the footnotes first. That way, you won’t need to scroll all over the place. I listed them all with context for this specific purpose.*

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“This tree is talkin’ to me!” […] “Yes, Great Tree!” - Natsu’s line, Episode 76, English dub [~2:45]

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“Oi, Mad Cow! If you don’t quit whining and drive faster, I’ll break your damn neck! You hear me?!”

The thick throat bobbed under Natsu’s forearm in response to the growled threat. “Y-yes,” came the hoarse choke. “But…it’s Mad Bull, not—“

“Like I care!” Natsu snarled, managing to hide his vehicular distress behind a scowl he fixed on the little mirror the big bastard’s eyes kept darting to. Sweat crawled down his temples.

It had taken mere minutes for his despair to burn into rage after Nashi left—and it didn’t even happen because of how badly their reunion had gone. The guy Nashi had just finished thrashing had been holding a weird-looking Mini-Comm to his ear as exited the same door she had, too distracted by his conversation to notice the pink-haired man curled wallowing on the ground amidst a scattering of untouched bills.

Natsu would barely have noticed him, either—if he hadn’t caught part of the asshole’s side of the conversation:

“—think I tried that?! The little freak was gone by the time I could sneak into the—yes, I’m fucking sure! How the hell could I miss her pink hair?!”

Natsu had stilled on the ground.

“—sure that’s the little bitch’s apartment building?…Well, whatever…don’t need an exact address, I’ll kick down every door in the damn place till she comes out if I have to, and make sure that whore regrets the day she ever—ARGGHH!”

The hulking man had bellowed in pain as he staggered from the Dragon Slayer’s sucker punch. His weird Min-Comm skidded across the ground, going totally silent as it audibly cracked against the ground.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT, ASSHOLE!” the big man shouted, lunging.

Despite the brand new wave of near-paralyzing vertigo, it had been easy for Natsu to take him down. First, because the loser really was a huge waste of size and strength. Second, because of the rage which had driven him to his feet.

The world had both seared red and spun around him. In the back of his mind, he noted that the dizziness was almost definitely at least partly due to the fact that his fire was trying and failing to rise to the surface. Every attempt at using his Magic in this world, so far, had resulted in shattering dizziness. He didn’t worry about it too much. He wouldn’t have been able to control his Magic, anyway—not when he was this pissed.

After easily slamming the man to the ground, Natsu yanked the bastard’s arm across his back until it trembled on the verge of breaking or (even more likely) dislocating.

“I know I didn’t just hear you call my daughter a whore, you bastard!” he’d hissed, pulling the massive arm an inch further back, barely refraining from ripping it off.

“D-daughter!? You’re—?”

“SHUT UP!”

Natsu had garroted the freak’s throat with his free arm and chuckled darkly when he spluttered and gagged. He’d thought quickly, fighting his ongoing dizziness for clarity.

“Right. You’re going to take me to Nashi’s apartment. Now! Then you’ll get lost and stay lost, you got it?!”

“N-Nashi? Who the fuck—?”

“THE GIRL YOU WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT, MORON!”

He’d been forced to accept a car ride—very reluctantly, giving in only when Mad Cow had spluttered that it would take them hours to walk to Nashi’s building.

Now, sitting in a moving car yet retaining the wherewithal to keep the guy’s throat locked under his arm from the back seat, he remained as creeped out as he’d been at the beginning of the journey. He’d always thought it would be awesome if he could ride in a vehicle without getting sick, that Wendy was basically a miracle-worker whenever she used Troia to help him out.

Now, under these circumstances, with his heightened senses stolen from him—Natsu found himself disturbed as hell by his ability to keep his wits in a dreaded moving Magical Vehicle.

It made an awful kind of sense, though. Whatever this world did to Magic sucked so much out of you, Dragon Slayers even had their motion sickness reduced. Maybe to the point they didn’t have it at all, eventually, if Nashi’s ability to ride a Magicycle was anything to go by.

In any case, Natsu’s nausea was still pretty bad—but not so bad he had to let go of Mad Cow, which was good because the asshole had already tried to attack him once, when Natsu was reluctantly oozing into the car. The bastard paid for it with a head slam that created a small crack in his Magical Vehicle’s window. As satisfying as his scream of pain and frustration had been, it had tested Natsu’s already overtaxed temper. He couldn’t hurt the guy badly enough that he couldn’t take Natsu where he needed to go, but boy did he want to.

Sweat slithered down his face, stomach rocking persistently, but he managed to hide his strain until the car finally swished and jerked to a halt across the road from a medium-tall, crummy building. With a trembling, meaty hand, Mad Cow pushed the stick he’d been holding forward between the two front seats then quickly lifted his hands like a robber.

“W-we’re here…” he sniveled.

Natsu glanced around, eyes narrowing as they briefly latched onto the Magicycle gleaming under a street lamp before returning to meet Mad Cow’s beady gaze in the little mirror. “Right.” He pulled his arm tighter against the thick throat, relishing the distressed-sounding gargles he got in response and the way a Vulcan-ish hand started clawing uselessly at his arm. “If you even think of laying a hand on my daughter again, I’ll flay you alive! You got that?!”

Natsu had to let up on Mad Cow’s throat just enough to hear the wheezed affirmative, wishing badly that he had his fire so he could brand this freak with the threat. There was something in the way those dark eyes gleamed and darted around that he didn’t trust.

But he didn’t have the option, and his stomach was rocking violently. The lump on Mad Cow’s head and the crack in his Magical Vehicle’s window would have to suffice. If he got any ideas about trying something, Natsu would be nearby to protect her, anyway.

“Good!” For the first time in living memory, Natsu was able to stagger right out of a Magical Vehicle and stay standing, albeit by the skin of his damn teeth. He scowled after the car as threateningly as he could as it roared away. Only after it had screeched around a corner did the Dragon Slayer double over to groan in agony.

After recovering, he stared up at the apartment building for a minute, somber and contemplative. So. This was where his daughter lived. Angry shouting emanated from broken windows, slurry arguments, violent threats, and the sounds of loud sex layered over each other. A man puked on the cracked bricks of the building’s side. From the dark alley of the other side, a pair of shiny eyes stared at him unblinkingly.

Lucy would have blown her top if she found out their daughter had been living in a place like this. Natsu couldn’t say the looks of the place was doing his blood pressure any favors, either.

Noting the location of the building, he’d hobbled off in search of food. As reluctant as he was to lose walk away from where Nashi was, passing out from hunger wasn’t going to help either of them. Fortunately, he’d thought to grab the money Nashi threw on the ground and shove it in his pocket just before ordering Mad Cow to make sure his Magic Vehicle didn’t shake too much. An order which had made the bastard splutter excuses about how “that was impossible!” and which he had not obeyed.

Natsu panicked slightly when he realized everything Nashi had given him only a couple hundred jewel-things. But when he found an open food stand (with wheels?! What sick bastard combined something so beloved with something so terrible?!) he sighed in relief upon reading the low prices. Jewel-whatevers went further here, obviously.

He proceeded to cheerfully order all the spiciest things on the menu until he was out of money. He wished it was Lucy or Mira’s cooking—and that it came with his usual side of fire, but the food was tasty enough. Nothing could could clear his head or perk him up like good grub. He felt much better as he hobbled away from the wheeled food stand, waving back at the beaming (and oddly weeping?) family talking excitedly in a language he didn’t understand.

Still, being clearheaded wasn’t as much fun as usual, at the moment. He brooded as he ambled back to the dumpy building, the truth sinking in like a rock in a pond.

Nashi didn’t believe him. Not just about the fact he was her dad, but about…anything. Hell, she didn’t even go by the name “Nashi.” Natsu could sort of start to understand how she’d come to be called “Layla”, seeing as it was her middle name. He worried about the specifics of the name change, though. Fairy Tail’s Strongest Team had had to use fake names on a few missions, mainly to infiltrate dangerous groups and take them down from inside.

Another guildmate who’d used fake identities in the past was Jellal (now the official Master of Fairy Tail’s Branch Guild, Crime Sorcière). Aside from playing Mystogan back when he’d been a fugitive, he’d done it mainly to prevent enemies from retaliating against Fairy Tail or his family. Then there was Mest, who Natsu was pretty sure still did spy things for the guild, but thankfully didn’t manipulate his own memories any more. None of the reasons he could think of for why Nashi might be hiding behind an alias made him feel too good, especially after his encounter with Mad Cow.

Even more concerning was the fact that Magic didn’t exist here. That you were considered insane if you mentioned it at all. Even Nashi, one of only two born Dragon Slayers in history, thought so. What the hell was he even supposed to do with that?! He couldn’t even protect her from whatever had forced her to take the name “Layla.”

He stopped in front of her apartment building and scowled up at it for the second time, struggling to think straight enough to come up with a plan with how physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted he was.

It was supposed to be simple: find Nashi and everyone else who vanished into those portals, then bring them home. Since the day they all vanished, that had been his main goal. Hell, it was the self-appointed mission of pretty much all the Mages left in Fiore—most of whom had also lost at least one person close to them to the mysterious portals which erupted across the country. Natsu had achieved the first part of the mission only for Nashi herself to become a new obstacle. In every possible way, he was lost.

His head felt like it was going to split. The pain made it even harder to think clearly. But standing there, Natsu did manage to draw one important yet unfortunate conclusion: kicking down the door to his daughter’s apartment building and yelling her name till he found her was almost certainly a bad idea.

He sulked at the realization. That was exactly what he wanted to do. Patience had never been his strong suit, and he was barely clinging to it at all after finding his daughter only to immediately learn she was in danger and living in a shit-hole. It was only what wisdom he’d gained as a grown man, a husband, and a father that allowed him to accept all he was likely to get from chasing her down again tonight was another kick—not to mention a lower chance of ultimately convincing her he was her dad. Something he had no chance of figuring out how to do when he was this tired and frayed.

Eventually, reluctantly, he headed to the park across the street from her house.

Or, uh, maybe a park? he wondered, eyeing all the dirty, bedraggled people curled up on benches or over the grass. Maybe travelers of some kind, seeing as some of them were in tents not too unlike the one he and Lucy had started bringing on missions after they’d started getting frisky. So long ago, now, but he could remember like it was yesterday.

He chuckled to himself at the thought and suffered the wave of ensuing (decidedly less-than-pure) homesickness. The breeze cooled Natsu’s skin pleasantly as he scanned for a good spot to rest for the night, quickly spotting a tree with wide branches.

He didn’t particularly like dozing in trees, preferring to spread out and/or cuddle Lucy as much as possible. But being able to was a skill that came in handy as a Mage—especially for S-Class missions that required initial reconnaissance.

Besides. In terms of this “mission”, the tree’s largest branch also happened to overlook Nashi’s apartment building. Even from here, Natsu could see her Magicycle gleaming beneath its street lamp, well in-sight of the tree branch he had his eye on. From there, he could watch over her.

“Oi, watch it!” someone snapped when he tripped over them on his way over to the tree.

“Oops, sorry! My bad, man!”

The tree bark was merciless against his palms. He grimaced at the trouble his knee gave him going up and grunted as he pulled himself onto the wide branch.

“This sucks,” he grumbled, shaking out his arms and glaring at his bloody, dirty knuckles. An entire lifetime of training dedicated to both his Magic and his body. Now he couldn’t even punch a couple people without exposing bone, could barely climb to the lowest branch of a damn tree. He wondered idly if this is how Loke felt when he’d remained on Earthland for such a long time.

He wondered how Nashi must have felt, when she landed here. How hard it must have been for her. At least she hadn’t been all alone. Even if Harley couldn’t fly, now, Nashi had confirmed they’d been together. The thought provided a sliver of comfort.

He settled his back against the trunk and peered out over his left shoulder, pleased he’d been right: from the perch he’d found, he had a clear view of Nashi’s Magicycle and apartment building perfectly. The nearly empty road between them sat like a dark and eerily still, silent river far below. Which apartment was hers? Could she look back at him, if she stood at a window?

“I’m keeping my promise,” he vowed softly, staring at the apartment building. “No matter what, I’m taking you home, Nashi.” He sniffled a bit, swiping the tears from his cheeks before they could wet his smiling lips.

Natsu crossed his arms behind his head and fell into a rather easy sleep, considering the bruises and aches on his weakened body.

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Thud!

She fell back to the ground with a cry of surprise and pain. A small one—the squeaky cry of a child no older than five. Frustrated tears gathered in her eyes. She groaned, propping her elbows beneath her and squeezing warm dirt between her fingers.

A huff met her ears, and she lifted her eyes to focus on the person strutting towards her. It wasn’t until he stopped right in front of her, blocking the sun with his head, that she could make him out. A scowling boy. Bigger than her, older, with hair the color of midnight.

It was when she noticed the edges of his form shimmering under the sun that Layla realized she was dreaming.

It had been a while since she’d had this dream…

The bright scent of fire and the smell of coming rain hung strong in her nostrils, so sharp they were breathtaking. So sharp they kept her in the dream despite her awareness of it. The combination of scents was inexplicably comforting. Familiar.

The boy crossed his arms over his bare chest, grunting irritably. “Would you quit?! Jeez! How many times have I told you to quit following me around, ya damn pest!?”

“Too bad!” she growled, still trying to get up. Her arms and legs weighed about a thousand pounds, and she wound up flumping backwards with a groan. “I-I’m gonna beat you, I swear!”

He rolled his eyes. “You mean like you said you were gonna yesterday? And the day before yesterday? And the day before that? And then also the—“

“Shut up!” Her cheeks burned. “Today’s gonna be different!

“You get that I’m, like, way older than you, right?”

“So what?!”

“So I’m bigger and stronger, that’s what!”

She groaned, pushed again. Once more, she fell. This time her head thumped against the dirt.

Concern peeked through the boy’s scowl, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Oi! Take it easy for once, would you?”

She ignored him. “Get up!” she growled, fighting back tears of frustration. “I always get back up!” Moving her legs was like swimming through sand. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them under herself. Finally, her frustration boiled over, and she stabbed a finger at the boy. “GET UP!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S ON THE GROUND!” [*1]

He took a couple deep breaths. However, it became clear his efforts to calm himself didn’t work when he exploded, “Why do you wanna beat me so bad anyway, huh?! I mean, the hell’d I ever do to you?!”

“It’s not that!” she groaned, still pushing. “It’s not like you did anything! I wanna beat you because…because you’re so strong! If I wanna be the best, I can’t waste time fighting a bunch of babies! If I wanna be the best, I gotta be able to beat the best!”

She could feel his gaze on her as she finally managed to push herself to her hands and knees, breathing heavily.

He huffed again, and this time, the sound was less annoyed. “That’ll never happen,” he chuckled, then sighed. “Damn…you really are a pest, you know that, Nashi?”

Just as she gritted her teeth, preparing to stand, a hand appeared in front of her face. She looked up in surprise to find the boy smiling down at her. The irritation in those strange, clear blue eyes—fringed in long, dark lashes—had softened into an exasperated sort of fondness. His outline was clearer, now. Less shimmery. “Well? Thought you said you were gonna beat me. Can’t do that from down there, can you?”

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It was when she took the sparkly Edward Cullen child’s hand that she woke up. Always then.

Awareness of the pain in her battered body slammed into her like the morning’s white light against her eyelids. Groaning, she flung an arm over her eyes only to hiss when the movement tugged at muscles stiffer than cold taffy. Harley stirred at Layla’s abrupt movement, a purr emanating into her side. Her joints throbbed as did the underside of her right jaw.

She could tell from the din of traffic floating through her closed window that it was past time to get up. She’d had an absolute shit of a time falling and staying asleep the previous night, but she couldn’t afford laziness now, when the Championship fight was less than a week out [*2].

Unlike most fighters of Layla’s caliber, she didn’t have top-notch sparring partners, a doctor, or a nutritionist at her beck and call. She didn’t have money to throw around so she could pay other people to make her the best; she didn’t even get paid anywhere near as much as the assholes she fought, whenever they won a fight. Hell, she didn’t even have one coach any more. She was the best because she woke up earlier, trained harder, gave more, and aimed higher. It was up to her. Her alone. It’d always been that way.

And yet…that morning, for a few longing minutes, she tried to let sleep keep her. She clung to the details of the years-forgotten dream, heart pinching inexplicably as they faded despite her best efforts, like smoke slipping through her fumbling fingers. The smell of fire and coming rain were swamped by the pungent odor of sweaty clothes and kitty litter. The echo of the boy’s voice slipped away beneath the sounds of traffic and the couple next door’s shouting.

Unfortunately, the one part of the dream she wanted to forget—the detail she’d stewed over all night—stuck to the front of her brain like it’d been superglued:

“Damn…you really are a pest, you know that, Nashi?”

…Nashi…

That damn name.

Rage Layla had been too tired to fully realize the previous night boiled up in her chest as “NASHI” screen-savered through her head, the memory of that homeless, pink-haired wingnut popping up between the floating words like a bad jump scare. She gripped her bedsheets with swollen, lilac knuckles and clenched her teeth so hard, they creaked like they were going to break.

Why? she fumed silently, struggling to swallow the hot, frustrated scream clawing its way up her throat—only because she didn’t want to scare Harley. Fucking WHY?

It was bad enough that she’d stewed over the bizarre encounter until the not-so-wee hours of morning, unable to sleep thanks to her shithead roommate and her “friends” making a bunch of sounds she’d never wanted to hear in her goddamn life! (Not to mention the conversation she overheard between two of Gracie’s creep-ass “guests” right outside her bedroom door, two guys egging each other to “get the pink-haired girl involved in the fun” until Gracie lured them back to the living room—lucky for them.) But when she’d finally started to drift off, she’d sworn not to think of the incident until after her fight four days from now.

That’s right...she thought grimly. Four days.

The Championship.

Her shot at redemption.

Her stomach churned. The frustrated scream climbed higher in her throat.

It was humiliating and infuriating enough that Pinky Wingnut had caught her off-guard so bad. For most of the night she’d raged at herself for engaging with some freak who was so clearly insane, let alone almost believing him, let alone asking him about…that name, a name she didn’t even give a shit about anymore. A name gathering dust in the bottom of the tattered, locked trunk across her room, right along with the police file it was tucked away in.

It felt like she’d had an embarrassing childhood toy she didn’t remember burying shoved into her arms without warning. And instead of throwing it back in the jerk’s face and telling him to fuck off, what had her stupid ass done? Asked him where he dug it up. Oh, and paid him for his trouble.

But no, she brooded, dropping her arm from her face and letting the light sear her eyes so that she could glare at the ceiling. Worse than the fact that she’d let him wobble her mentally and emotionally, worse than the fact she’d given him $250 she couldn’t really afford to hand out…worse than any of that was the bastard’s timing.

The moments following her win had already been a shitshow, even if no one but her knew it. It’d been that way the whole past year, but last night—the semi-final fight—had definitely been the worst. The second Lee had thrown her away from Mad Fuck or whatever and she’d managed to pull herself out of “fight mode” to convince herself that yes, she’d actually won, her mind had eagerly jumped to her corner—only to remember it was empty, now. There was no one there. No strong, smirking older blonde boy or a tiny, old one-eyed man offering up one of his rare, proud smiles through his mustache.

Just a little bit of hope had kept her heart from sinking too far as she remembered that her friend from the system, Rose [*3], had promised to come out to watch her tonight.

The triumphant smile and pose had been a facade, one which she struggled more and more to keep up this past year. The effort had felt monumental while she strutted around the perimeter of the cage, heart warming a bit at the sight of some regular fans cheering from the front row, decked out in what must have been homemade merch with her name all over it, even as she remained desperate in her search for skin pink and slightly warped with an old burn; messy brown waves of hair; and large, dreamy hazel eyes in the crowd.

She never found them.

As her eyes’ search had faltered, realizing her friend wasn’t there like she’d promised she would be, they’d begun to sting, much to her horror. Bitterness nipped at her crumpling heart.

I…have nothing—

It was with the thought she barely managed to stifle, this time, that she’d been completely unable to maintain the facade, all of her effort needed to smother the pit trying to yawn wide inside her. The throbbing, gloved fist she had lifted in triumph had begun to drop, the smile had fled, her vision had blurred…

And then Pinky Wingnut had appeared like a bolt from the damn blue, bellowing the name she’d been so close to finally forgetting. In front of a shit-ton of people, no less. He hadn’t even looked embarrassed for himself. Had thrown himself into the arena like he had any—no, every damn right to be there, obviously not caring who he had to punch, elbow, or throw to get there. Had shamelessly barked and pitted himself against the ref, Lee, whose very presence demanded respect.

No, he was too crazy for shame, something which had finally been driven home during their second “reunion” when he’d started yelling about Harley—a name he definitely shouldn’t have known. Not even if he somehow had a copy of the same police file she did. Her police file. In the notes they took during the interview with her five-year-old self, the cops had consistently misspelled Harley’s name as “Charlie,” one of the many ways those dolts had fumbled and fucked up while trying to figure out who and where her parents were.

At least “Charlie” makes more sense than “Nashi Layla Dragon O’Neil”…she thought, eye twitching at the thought of the ridiculous name the pigs claimed her five-year-old self told them. Granted, Little Layla had been pretty obsessed with dragons. Even more than she had been throughout most of her childhood in the system. Even more than Pinky Wingnut. Maybe even enough to make up such a ridiculous name, one which literally contained the word “Dragon.”

If she remembered the interview correctly, she’d even whined that she was hungry and begged the cops for some fire to eat—that was, when she wasn’t too busy crying because Harley wouldn’t talk to her or making up wild shit about how her parents were warlocks or whatever, how she belonged in a fairy tale. She hadn’t even bothered to specify which one.

Throwing her blanket off herself and the cat in question, who beeped hoarsely in protest, Layla swung her legs out of bed. Her bruised bare feet slapped against the cold, cheap, off-white tile as she fumbled for her trusty bottle of pain pills on the nightstand, popped a couple, then brought her water bottle to her lips to wash it down.

She stood and stretched her arms above her head with a groan, scratching at her tan, toned stomach and wincing slightly as she tottered over to her bedroom window, tripping over piles of manga volumes on the way [*4]. She’d gotten lucky with her view of the park across the street, especially with the big, half-dead old tree which dominated the middle of the panes.

Now, Layla was so busy raging at herself, she barely registered the sight. Didn’t see the sunny day, the homeless people rolling up their tents and clearing out before someone driving by called the cops. She glared at the cars moving below, seething with her own thoughts so hard she could almost feel steam pouring out of her ears and nose into the room.

No more goddamn distractions, she swore viciously to herself. No more crying during her victory lap like a pathetic weakling. No more getting sidetracked by delusional Pinky Wingnuts. No more thinking about…that name and all the mortifying bullshit that came with it. Four days out was Championship night. Until then, no more fucking distractions.

She sat there, staring unseeingly at the old tree and tried to amp herself up, frustration detonating slowly in her brain as her heart barely stirred at her own lecture. No matter how hard she worked, how much she tried, or how many times she yelled her catchphrase at the end of her fights…for the past year, something just wasn’t there.

“I’ve got a fire inside me you’ll just never put out!” came closer and closer to getting completely stuck at the back of her throat—and staying there. It felt more like a lie every time it left her lips.

Frustration finally hitting boiling point like a fucking teakettle screaming, she stomped back over to her nightstand, less tripping over her manga than kicking the pile, this time. She unplugged her phone from its charger, scowling as she scrolled through the notifications to see that not only had Rose not bothered to show up, she hadn’t even fucking texted to explain why. The last text she’d ever sent came two days ago, just the words, I’ll try n be there punctuated with a shitty smiley face.

“You fucking liar,” Layla seethed under her breath, croaky voice shaking.

Distantly, she registered Harley (who’d apparently decided to quit being a lazy little lump) twirling around her ankles, mewling for breakfast.

She told herself it was anger making her heart wince, not pain. She knew Rose struggled. She did. She knew that. Her life hadn’t been any easier than Layla’s—in ways, much harder after the fire which left them both scarred in different ways. After Layla and a reluctant Gracie had managed to convince her to get help a couple years ago, she’d been so much better for a while. But now…

Now whatever, Layla thought viciously, black flames licking furiously at her insides. One thing, she’d asked for. It wasn’t like she wanted anything crazy, just for one person who mattered to show up for two of the biggest fights of her life (so far). She’d long given up on Gracie, but Rose used to show up—even if it was only occasionally. Sometimes even when she was going through a bad period. Layla had been there for Rose as much as she could after juvie, had picked her up after benders, beat the shit out of anyone who made fun of her burns. And her “friend” apparently couldn’t pay her back by just freaking showing up once or twice.

So much for “Foster kids don’t ditch each other,” she thought bitterly.

Fuck you too, Rose, she typed aggressively. Seriously.

Layla hit Send. Then, after pausing for a second, she typed out:

If you’re not there Friday night, I’ll fucking kill you!

Layla hit Send again. Clicking out of their conversation, she scowled as another text from an unsaved number made itself known through bolded font:

Yo, congrats on the win! Looks like we’re up again! A fist emoji. Good luck...you’ll need it...

That text was punctuated by a winky face. Another text followed it up:

I heard some crazy shit went down at the end of your fight, tho…u good?

Layla’s eye twitched. Ever since that motherfucker Helio thwarted her attempt to take the championship title from him a year previously, he’d decided to fuck with her mind by sending annoying texts at least a few times a week. If that naive, gullible dumbass Rose wasn’t the one who kept giving him Layla’s number, insisting he “wasn’t such a bad guy” Layla would have killed her.

She gritted her teeth hard enough to give herself a headache, almost mangling her phone. No matter how much she tried to tell herself she was too experienced a fighter to let that stupid douchebag psych her out, the rage burning in her chest and the fact that she still hadn’t been able to make herself rewatch last year’s championship fight—the only one she’d lost in the semi-unders—said otherwise.

The most she’d ever sent him was a poop emoji. Their “conversation” was basically just littered with them. But now, her temper was so close to snapping that she just deleted the conversation entirely with hard taps, refusing to give herself a chance to reply something stupid.

For all the fucking good it did. This time, the frustrated scream did leave her throat, making her sound like a fucking demon smoker.

She threw her phone on her bed with more force than necessary, breathing heavily while she watched it bounce.

“Whatever,” she breathed to herself like a fucking bull. “Forget it, whatever!” At least she didn’t get any texts from that other, much worse bastard anymore…obviously, changing her number a bunch of times had done the trick.

Harley, wholly unperturbed by her outburst, decided to up the breakfast-begging ante. She went from weaving around her ankles to clawing viciously at her bare leg, meowing louder.

“Ow!” Layla snapped, swatting at the little gremlin to shoo her off. “You fish-addicted, fucked up cat!”

Harley yowled petulantly. The little shit was Layla’s best friend, and she loved her to death, but she could really be a monster when it came to her damn “fishies.” Or scratching the shit out of her furniture and walls. Or if anyone other than Layla came near her (though Layla didn’t really blame her for that one).

The little cat leapt atop one of the few still-intact pile of comics and manga near the window, white tail swishing agitatedly. Those odd, blank-but-not, round, charcoal eyes of hers an unblinking, salmon-filled demand. Layla was geared up to ignore her and get ready for the day—maybe even eat her own damn breakfast first, for once, if Harley was going to be such a little brat!—but her anger cooled when the morning light streaming in from the window illuminated the sheen of pink skin peeking through her white fur. Barely visible, but still there. A burn gained in the same fire as Rose’s, before Layla managed to get her out.

Layla didn’t feel bad for calling Harley “fucked up.” She didn’t. She was a cat, for crying out loud. She couldn’t even understand a word she said anymore than she could fly like Pinky Wingnut the Stalker, seemed to think.

The fighter sighed. “Tch…well, who wants a fishies, then?” she half-cooed, half-grumbled her usual morning phrase—which she’d never, ever say in front of anyone else—then snorted and made to get dressed when Harley practically sang a meow at hearing her favorite words.

----------------------

“Fuck off, Gracie!”

Her shithead roommate was the absolute last person Layla wanted to see while she and Harley were trying to enjoy their breakfast that morning. Especially when the jerk was practically naked—clad only in a thong and one of her loser “friends’” shirts (Layla assumed); especially when the apartment had gained a new beer can and burnt tin foil rug overnight; and especially when she was trying to steal Layla’s food.

She slammed a bruised fist onto Gracie’s lanky hand as it snaked to towards her bacon. The table, silverware, and Harley’s bowlful of raw salmon rattled as she pinned it to the wood hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Ouch!” Gracie squeaked, wriggling her hand out from Layla’s fist, Layla only letting her up after giving her a good long glare.

Harley, perched on the table right next to Layla’s morning feast, was barely fazed by the jolt to the table or loud sounds. However, she was clearly not happy with Gracie’s nearness. If Layla hadn’t been there between them, there would have been a real concern for the safety of Gracie’s hands. She lifted her head from the bowl of raw salmon she’d previously been loudly scarfing to stare down their lanky, pale roommate. Though her tail briefly bristled like a soda bottle, she quickly returned to devouring her fish to no one’s damn surprise, although she ate more quietly now.

Meanwhile, Gracie pouted, rubbing her hand and eyeing Harley with a distaste that was far too familiar. Then she finally returned her angled, glinting dark eyes to her angrily flushed roommate. Her pout grew bigger as she threw her skinny, naked ass into the chair on the opposite side of the table from Harley.

“Seriously? You have that ginormous breakfast and can’t even give your own bestie one tiny slice of bacon?”

“Bestie” was a major stretch, especially at the moment. But admittedly, it was a big breakfast:

One huge veggie omelet and a sizable hunk of meat (bacon, today) both marinated in enough spices to turn most peoples’ tongues to leather. Whole wheat toast with almond butter. A big protein smoothie to top it all off. It was a ton of calories, but every one would be needed for today’s training.

Makar, Layla’s old coach, would have skinned her alive if he’d been around to know she wasn’t taking the day after a fight to rest [*5]. She’d always thought it was a stupid rule, but she’d grudgingly followed it out of respect for her coach.

But now, Mak was buried in the graveyard a couple blocks over, and so was the “Rest Day Rule” as far as Layla was concerned. She hadn’t rested a single day the past year, not even when sick. Rest was for spoiled douchebags like Helio who had an entire team dedicated to shaping him into an amazing fighter like a ball of fucking golden clay. Hell, he even had a fight manager now that most of his fights were in the “real” octagon rather than the semi-underground.

She should know, since she’d been watching all his fights since forever.

(Just not theirs.)

Layla bared her teeth at Gracie. “No, I can’t! I need the energy for training! And even if I could, I wouldn’t! Get your own damn food!”

“Ugh.” Gracie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her braless chest. “Don’t tell me you’re butthurt about last night. God, it’s not even that big a deal. You are such a slut-shamer.”

“Don’t fucking call me a slut-shamer!” she snapped back, throwing her chopsticks down on her plate just to taunt Gracie with the fact that she wasn’t even eating the breakfast she refused to share. “As if that has anything to do with shit! Last night was the semi-final—“

“I forgot,” Gracie sniffed, turning away while closing her eyes.

“Like hell you did, liar!” Layla snarled. “I reminded you like a thousand times!” She scooped her chopsticks back up, squeezing them so hard they threatened to break. “I don’t care who you bone, but I’ve got four days to the Championship fight, and I’m not getting there like a zombie because I had to keep listening to your shitty crooning! Next time, I’ll throw their asses out!”

She pointed her chopsticks at the girl whose aura was now definitely souring, ignoring the sounds of Harley now loudly licking her chops from the other side of the table.

“And while we’re on the subject, how does that scenario even happen!? ‘Oh, hey, Rando, do you happen to be a huge asshole?’” She pretended to pause as if listening, then to brighten with a mocking amount of pageantry. “ ‘Oh, you are? Fantastic! You pass the audition! Come on over around 8 for a gang-wang!’”

“It’s ‘gangbang’,” Gracie sneered, her laughter making Layla’s ears heat with embarrassment. “Seriously, how do you get to ‘gang-wang’?” Layla hunched her shoulders in an attempt to hide the effect, hoping Gracie would just move on. But since when had she ever gotten what she wanted?

“And also, I just meet guys at parties, get their numbers, and text them. Really not rocket science. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you? Since you’re such an oblivious prude. Not to mention an imbecile.” She stood, turning away to stretch and giving Layla an unfortunate full view of her bony white horse butt. “But then again…” She turned smirking over her similarly bony shoulder. “That’s only to be expected from a gorilla.”

Layla stiffened as the cruel nickname was thrown at her for the second time in as many days.

Let it go, she tried to tell herself. She’s just pissed because you called her out. Foster kids don’t ditch each other. They stick by each other.

But this time, the placations didn’t work; her rage leapt to her tongue faster than she could bite it.

“Go fuck yourself, Third-Base Grace!”

Her roommate froze, turning to stare at her with wide eyes full of horror and disbelief as Layla glowered up at her, cheeks tinged in anger. She’d never resorted to calling Gracie that. Ever. Hell, she used to beat people up when they called Gracie that, after they both left juvie and wound up in the same high school.

The worst part was that she couldn’t even make herself feel bad for pulling out the mean high school nickname. Not when she was having such a shit morning. Not when the resentment had been festering within her for this long.

Not when Gracie had done the exact same thing to her—several times, now.

When their glare-off lasted for several seconds, Gracie’s devastation transformed just as surely and quickly as Layla’s had. Layla could see it in her eyes. For a second, she thought Gracie was going to say something really nasty, and she geared up, ready to fucking throw down if it came to it. Throwing her naked ass out was looking more appealing by the minute, let alone by the day, if she was being honest.

But then, as soon as Gracie’s eyes narrowed and the fire flared within them, her anger was muted. Not exactly gone, but looking like a veil had been cast over it, darkening it.

“Whatever,” she scoffed, snatching her phone off the couch she’d been crashing on for months and stalking towards the bathroom. “Get that hideous thing you call a cat off the table.”

Harley, obviously unable to understand the girl, paid the words no mind, flicking her bristled tail while she watched her walk away.

Layla, on the other hand, felt her temper spike. “Her name is Harley! And fucking make me!” she snapped back. “And all this shit better be cleaned up by the time I get back, or so help me—“

The slam of the bathroom door cut her off, leaving Layla cursing under her breath.

Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry any more, but she forced herself to shovel down the rest of her breakfast as quickly as possible. She told herself it was the spicy food making her eyes burn.

----------------------

A good, hard run served as Layla’s daily warm-up for training. Always had, as far as she remembered. As per usual during the flaming can of garbage that was the past year, she felt like she was flagging the entire time. According to the timer on her phone, her times were better than ever. Yet she’d never felt slower.

Sometimes, it felt like her phone and even her Wikipedia page—which documented her unbroken record over the past year—were lying to her, playing tricks on her. Like a light scale, something she’d had to deal with occasionally back when she competed at other types of martial arts for Mak as a kid [*6].

It also didn’t matter that she refused to look at the graveyard when she passed it on her route; she could always hear Mak’s voice , like the loudest bastard of a ghost ever from the moment she dashed her first step.

“GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR! DON’T EVEN FUCKING THINK OF LETTING THOSE BOYS BEAT YOU!”

Nevermind the fact that she didn’t run alongside any boys to beat, anymore.

“Foul-mouthed…old…man,” she wheezed to herself, leaning against the big, dying old tree where she always finished her run, the one she could see from her window. She ignored the passersby who gave her strange looks.

Jeez, she thought after a while. It’s really taking me a long time to catch my breath. She felt way better, but she could still hear herself. In fact, it almost sounded like…

Her eyes widened. Hold up! That’s not someone catching their breath, and it sure as shit ain’t me.

Instead, it sounded like…snoring? Pretty loud snoring, too. Layla straightened. Warily, she glared down several of the passersby, wondering if one of them was fucking with her or something. To her fury, several of them eyed her suspiciously, like she was the one standing there in broad daylight snoring out loud like a fucking freak.

“What the hell are you looking at, huh?!” she snapped at one old man with a weird green had and a particularly disdainful glare. He huffed something about “rude brats” while shuffling along.

She frowned as he vanished, glancing around to see that most people in the immediate vicinity had cleared off. Yet the snoring raged on, sounding like a bear except when it would stop entirely, turning into these obnoxious little snorts. With a huff of confusion, she walked around the tree, frown deepening as she looked to see if someone was sleeping on the other side.

“Alright, seriously?!” she exclaimed throwing her arms up before flinging them across her chest, pouting in thought. She was stumped. If the snoring wasn’t coming from her, then what, was it coming from the freaking tree?!

She paused, actually considering the possibility. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “Huh…” she muttered, eyes widening in fascination as she crouched down, putting a hand against the bark and wiping at her sweaty forehead with the other. “Well, I mean, plants gotta breathe, too, don’t they?” At least, she thought she remembered learning something like that in school.

Suddenly, the snoring ceased, turning into a groan. Layla yanked her hand away from the tree like it burned her, eyes bugging. “W-what the hell?!” she whispered, now officially getting creeped out.

Then the tree fucking gasped.

And then, Layla finally figured out it wasn’t the tree when the gasp was followed up with an unfortunately familiar voice crying a hoarse, “Nashi!”

She looked up.

She screamed.

----------------------

Footnotes:

*1. On Layla telling the “Edward Cullen” boy to get up when she’s the one on the ground: You might recognize this interaction from the original story. Natsu said it to Gray when they were fighting as children in one scene. I couldn’t resist borrowing the moment as both a hint and for nostalgic reasons.

*2. On having two fights within the same week: In the UFC, fighters have ~5 fights a year at most. The idea of someone doing a sport as violent, intense, and damaging to the body as UFC-level MMA even multiple times in one month is ludicrous. Doesn’t really matter since this is a Fairy Tail fic, and I won’t correct everything that’s inaccurate, but if I don’t roast myself just a little all my research was for NOTHING!!

*3. On mentions of characters from “Our Earth” such as Rose and Helio: Little characters and details like this are genuinely important to the fic and will ultimately be relevant even to Fairy Tail’s OC’s, I promise. This is NOT going to be one of those fics that’s ostensibly a Fairy Tail fic but in execution could really be totally unrelated to the original story, I promise.

*4. On Layla/Nashi’s manga volumes: Nashi’s love for manga (including eventual mentions of stories some of you may recognize) is as close to a crossover fic as this story will ever get.

*5. On Layla not taking rest days after fights: no

*6. Meaning of “light scale”: a scale that gives out readings less than one’s actual weight, an infamously common problem with the scales provided by US Olympics in sports such as Judo, where fighters have to cut (lose) or make (gain/maintain) weight to compete in certain weight classes

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Author’s Notes:

Hmm…could “Makar” be an Edolas-like parallel, I wonder?

Again, sorry this took so long! Tried to cut back on the “Our Earth” exposition, but kind of think it might still be too much? I’m also nervous about Layla/Nashi’s second debut. She’s definitely been something of a handful to write. But this is just how the story developed in my head, so oh well.

Like I said, I’m going to try to get chapters out faster, from here on out. I’d like to aim for at least one every week and a half, but I won’t give you guys a real, hard number until I figure out what works for me.

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed!

#chasing tails #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fan fiction #nalu fanfiction #nalu #gruvia #gajevy #jerza #fanfiction #fan fiction

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winterhulk · 2 years ago

Text

Missing Person

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Characters: Justin Hammer, Bruce Banner, Other characters mentioned

Relationship: Justin Hammer/Bruce Banner

Summary: Bruce was gone. He might never be coming back and Justin wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Trigger Warnings: Bad Parent Brian Banner

Genre: Angst (with a happy ending)

Word Count: 2054

Notes: This is MCU Bruce but with the backstory for Hulk from Hulk (2003), because I prefer that one. Established relationship

Read on Ao3

They had been together for years when the accident happened.

They’d met in college and then went on from there. Justin went on to found his own weapons firm and Bruce went into nuclear sciences. While their choices of work had little to do with each other, it hardly mattered. They were both successful, supportive of each other, and they were happy. They had had plans for the future, just recently having gotten married.

Settling down in the classic sense wasn’t on the table for them, at least not currently. They were both at the height of their career, and, as incredibly hard-working and career-oriented people the mere idea of having children or one of them being a house-husband was ridiculous.

They completed each other. His sister had called them a ‘power couple’ once and Justin had laughed at it then. She may have been right, but it still sounded ridiculous to be referred to like that.

“One day, when we’re old and grey we can settle down,” Bruce had told him once when they were laying together in bed. Justin had off-handedly mentioned that his mother was asking when he would bring home grandchildren for her, and it had made Bruce think long and hard about that statement before eventually settling on that. “Though it might be too late for children then.”

It didn’t matter, neither of them ever really wanted children in the first place.

Bruce had been way too scared to turn into his father and Justin didn’t think he had the time to properly care for tiny human beings entirely reliant on him. So children weren’t in their future.

But they were both in each other’s future, and Justin hadn’t believed that was going to change any time soon, but then the accident happened and his whole world turned upside down.

Bruce had been working on a way to heal cells with gamma radiation along with his team at Berkeley. Apparently some sort of experiment his father had tried to conduct and failed at. Bruce mentioned he’d found his notes, and then subsequently had a panic attack about finding out that his father had also experimented on him when he was just a child.

(It had taken long for Bruce to recover from that, and Justin had put his plans on the back burner for him. Not something he did often, but the revelation about what Brian had done had set Bruce back so much that Justin needed to be a husband first and a businessman second.)

And he had been making progress. More progress than Brian had ever had, but still, experiments were failing, and the military was starting to catch wind of the project. And with the military came a jerk called Glenn Talbot who Justin had wanted to punch in the face.

(He would never find out, but Harper, one of Bruce’s friends, had made comments about how eerily similar Justin and Talbot seemed, and that it was incredibly ironic that Justin didn’t like him.)

But the interest of the military entered pressure to deliver and Berkeley was threatening to cut their funding short (Justin had protested and said he’d fund them, but Bruce had refused, said he wanted to manage this himself, without his interference) and for Bruce that meant long nights spent in the lab, working himself to the bone.

It was probably only a matter of time until an accident occurred, but no one could have predicted it would be of this degree.

Something went wrong during testing, Bruce’s friend Harper would have been hit with a deadly blast of gamma rays and Bruce, in a bout of absolute stupidity jumped in front of him to save him, exposing him to a level of gamma radiation so high it should have killed him on the spot.

But it didn’t.

Justin had been at work when he’d gotten the call that Bruce was in the hospital and, immediately, he’d dropped his work to visit him. When Betty had told him the story Justin had expected the worst. He almost didn’t have the guts to go and see, but the doctors had assured him that, for some unexplainable reason, Bruce had not only survived but was doing just fine. He had been in disbelief when he saw his husband, not really comprehending that Bruce just took the gamma rays and walked it off like it was nothing.

He’d still chewed him out for being so goddamn dumb to jump in front of a gamma cannon anyway, but Bruce had tried to laugh it off. Justin didn’t find this situation funny though, and Bruce quickly changed the subject, mentioning that he would be taking some time off of work afterward, which soothed Justin’s nerves a bit.

That night, though, things went terribly, horribly wrong.

He had been asleep when he’d gotten the call which meant he couldn’t even answer it. When he woke up he had a long message from Bruce on his voicemail and he had been terrified to listen to it.

”Justin, I- I have to leave. I am so sorry. Turn on the news, you’ll know what’s up. That green thing? That’s- that’s me, I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t even know what it is, I don’t have any recollection but it’s me. They’re after me, I can’t- I can’t stay, I have to run. Please don’t try looking for me, you won’t find me. Maybe one day I can return but I don’t know if it will ever come to that. Don’t wait for me, okay? Move on. I want you to be happy and you won’t be if you’re miserable wondering when I’ll be coming back if I might never be. You’re the love of my life and I’m sorry it had to end this way. I love you. Be safe.”

Bruce had been crying and, by the end of it, Justin had been as well.

This had to be a nightmare. All of this had to be a goddamn nightmare. He did end up turning on the news and felt sick when he saw the report on some giant green monster that rampaged through the hospital Bruce had been in. Leaving nothing in its wake but destruction and chaos.

Bruce was gone. He might never be coming back and Justin wasn’t sure how to handle it.

════ ��★⋆ ════

Slowly the years ticked by and Justin had tried to keep his life as normal as possible.

He still worked, he remained a public figure, he still was extremely extravagant, tacky, arrogant, and kind of an asshole. Still tried to be better than Stark Industries. He maintained his persona, showing people what they expected of him.

In private he hadn’t been able to move on, though he had been doing better.

The beginning was the worst. Justin had completely removed himself from the public for a while, trying to cope with what had happened, the loss of his husband, still praying, hoping, wishing Bruce was just going to show up at their doorstep again. It didn’t happen, of course it didn’t and Justin knew it was nothing but wishful thinking but he couldn’t help it. What else was he supposed to do? Accept it, just like that? Pretend nothing was wrong until it turned true? He was never good at pretending.

It got better over time, but Justin didn’t love again. He had told himself a million times he’d get back into dating, but he could never bring himself to. It felt wrong. He had gone on a few dates, but it just didn’t feel right to go on a date, not, when in secret, his heart was still hoping.

It didn’t stop him, however, from taking the golden opportunity that was laid at his feet with the name of Ivan Vanko. After Stark caused his contract with the military to be annihilated he had been absolutely furious, so this had been the perfect way to get back at him. Little did he know how horribly it would backfire.

Potts, that bitch, had called the cops on him and Justin had been furious.

“I get it, I see what you’re doing,” he told her when the police forced his hands on his back. The shackles felt cold against his skin and he gave her a smirk. “You’re trying to pin this on me, huh? That’s good, that’s good. You’re starting to think like a CEO, trying to take out the competition. I like that. You think you’re making a problem for me? I’m gonna make a problem for you. I’m gonna be seeing you again real soon.”

As it turned out making threats when an officer is leading you away was not a good idea and actually only harms your case. Justin had to find that out the hard way. Doing business with a wanted criminal was even worse.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Jail was awful. Dark, depressing, cold, and lonely. He had lost his entire life, his money, his house, his status, his boat. Everything. And, even before that, his husband. He had nothing left anymore, and now he was just one of the inmates. Getting treated like a filthy commoner, like a goddamn cockroach.

Having to share his cell, his shower, his food, his everything. It was terrible and Justin cursed Pepper with every breath he took. That goddamn, ginger whore.

At least he got along well enough with his cellmate.

It had been a good two years spent in prison, time just passing by as he was getting used to his new circumstances. Not that it made them any less unbearable, but at least it was becoming his typical. A small comfort, or something like that.

He was also still in prison when the attacks on New York happened and, subsequently, the Avengers were formed.

Everyone had been talking and whispering and Justin had never been more glad that the prison was located in Georgia. But as rumors spread and more information got released to the public a name dropped that made Justin freeze.

Bruce was back. He was back and he was a hero now. While he was out there Justin was stuck here in prison, unable to even so much as get a message out to him. He’d acquired every paper possible that reported on the situation, bargained with the other inmates, made a fool of himself, just to get more information, to find out how Bruce was doing. To know he was real and alive and doing well.

And oh, hearing the news broke his heart. It brought all the hurt and pain back up again, and he’d spent the evening curled up in his cell, crying his eyes out, wondering where they had gone wrong that life had to treat them so cruelly.

It wasn’t meant to be, was it?

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Mr. Hammer, you’re free to go.”

Justin looked up from his magazine, giving the guard a confused look.

“I’m sorry, what? I still have-” “I know how much time you’ve got left, but you got endorsed by the Avengers. Tony Stark himself put in a good word for you. So. You’re free. Leave before they change their mind.”

Justin was in disbelief but he didn’t need to be told twice.

The Avengers endorsed him. Bruce…? His hands shook as he collected his things and took a step outside. The sun was almost blinding today and yet Justin felt oddly cold inside, left with the uncertainty of his release, the hope and longing for Bruce, the absolute bewilderment about Tony Stark doing anything for him.

He looked around the parking lot of the Penitentiary and almost dropped his bag when he saw Bruce standing there, waiting for him. In the first moment he didn’t do anything, the next he slowly started towards him with shaking next, and the one after that he started running.

Bruce pulled him into his arms the moment he reached him, holding him tightly, both of them sobbing quietly.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Justin admitted quietly, burying his face in Bruce's shoulder. “Neither did I,” Bruce mumbled quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Didn’t even think you’d still want me after the stunt I pulled.” “I’ll always want you. But if you do that again I’m going to hunt you for sport.”

#marvel #mcu #justin hammer #bruce banner #gammacannonry #iron man 2 #hulk #greenbacks #my writing

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channeleven · 1 year ago

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LTA: Todd McFarlane’s Spawn

I'll be blunt, I don't have the best relationship with comic book cartoons. I'm able to appreciate some of them these days like the Incredible Hulk cartoons, but I feel a lot of them fall into the same series of tropes and cliches that basically make them as run of the mill as an animated sitcom, I feel like I'm the only one who noticed this. Now, comic book adaptations, familiarities aside, are enjoyable if you're into that scene, though it's hard to deny most of them have some serious issues. They could be forgivable if they came out at a time long before a gold standard is set like the old Marvel cartoons, but for stuff like She-Hulk Attorney at Law and DC Superhero Girls...

At your own risk.

But when it comes to shows like those, either I avoid it knowing I'd have little good to say about it, or I give it a shot after seeing some clips and I'll see how I feel about it from there, and here we are now.

Background

Spawn is a comic book character created by Image Comics co-founder Todd McFarlane, and one of many Image properties that received a hell of a lot of interest. In the mid-90s, Spawn received a massive marketing push, from video games, to toys, to movies and a television series, and for better or worse they saw the light of day. Though I imagine it was through marketing people became familiar with Spawn, I know I was.

My first exposure to Spawn was through a trailer for the 1997 film that turned up on an old VHS tape I had. I was unfamiliar with the character and assumed this was some B movie tribute, Spawn was a mutant and Clown was an evil wacky political figure or something. If you want my opinion on the film, I can understand why some things about it were changed compared to the comics, like changing Terry Fitzgerald's race and removing Chapel, but whether it was Todd's influence or not, it feels like people actually cared during its production, as nearly everything else is done to properly replicate elements of the comics, Michael Jai White did a good job as Spawn and John Leguizamo absolutely nailed Clown. You can certainly do a lot worse when it comes to superhero films, especially New Line Cinema titles released during that period. After all, 97 was the year of Annihilation.

As for the series it's another interesting coincidence. I left a comment praising the animation in the music video for Korn's Freak on a Leash, and I said yeah, I want to see a cartoon animated like this. Someone recommended Todd MacFarlane's Spawn to me, and after a few years I got around to checking it out... just to find context for a scene I saw on YouTube. Although going through it, it seemed more familiar than I expected, like I watched this long ago in reruns, or my folks actually let me watch it, I know they let me watch The Sopranos with them.

Let's just get into the series proper.

Plot and Characters

This won't be a plot summary, but just to get you into the loop, Spawn centers on Al Simmons, a government assassin who is betrayed by his partner and killed. He bargains with Satan stand-in Malebolgia in order to return to earth and reunite with his wife Wanda, but as his death was arson-based he is rendered disfigured, and now sent to recruit souls to join Malebolgia's army, in this case, souls of those who have done wrong and would be destined for hell.

This is made clear early on, so even if you haven't read the comics you can at least jump right in without needing that much knowledge of the character. An adaptation works best when you don't need to be immediately familiar with the initial source material. With so many adaptations taking on radically different directions with little connection to the sources that originated them, it's a huge mess. However, that doesn't mean you'd be losing some context if you're new to the series, and it shows for a lot of the characters. I'm not aware of their allegiances, motivations or overall relevance to the plot, so admittedly I had to look them up so I have some idea to what to expect, especially when each are well written characters in their own right. Firstly, Angela. She had only made one appearance in the animated series proper. I had assumed she would be a bounty hunter sent to kill Spawn, and I was kinda right. At least somewhere in the comics she was initially sent by heaven to destroy Spawn, it fails but not on black and white terms. The role was kinda switched by the end of the series, where Jade was given the role. I heard this was due to legal issues between Todd and Neil Gaiman and if the latter had no role in the series that could've spelt trouble, although Angela would've appeared in the show's fourth season had the series kept going.

But when it comes to Spawn characters outside of those immediately connected to Spawn, I've gotta talk about Sam and Twitch. Now, on the surface they appear to either be corrupt cops or those who would become a thorn in Spawn's side, but basic research and getting through the series revealed that wasn't so. In truth, Sam and Twitch are poised as being good cops in a precinct riddled with corruption, that point being made especially clear in the show's last season, when beforehand they were just investigating incidents Spawn either had a hand in or happened to be at the right place at the right time for. People like to immediately depict cops as outright corrupt, whether it comments on police brutality or just pokes fun at them, so it's nice to see something not only serve as antithesis to that, but maintain its commentary on corruption in the police force. Even when said commentary is on the nose, it's at least relevant to the plot and key characters and carried out in a way that makes either character shine, from reflecting Sam's genuine care for justice beyond his more loutish nature, to Twitch's bravery, determination and analytical nature.

I certainly thought they were great, and so did everyone else. They not only got a cameo in the 1997 film, but they even got a spin-off comic series.

Clown, aka the Violator, marks the perfect balance between entertaining and sadistic, or just one who delights in fucking with people's minds. He was summoned to ensure Spawn kills those with souls to be damned to be recruited into Malebolgia's army. The film portrays him as more comedic but otherwise in line with his comic depiction, while the animated series is the latter in full force, either works for the material they are given. On the opposite extreme, Cogliostro, once the Black Knight who had managed to escape Malebolgia's grasp, seeks to help Spawn avoid a similar fate. Regretfully in the comics he becomes a villain, but hey as long as it wasn't so he could get into the pants of a deviantArt OC so be it. This seems to be a later occurrence in the comics so the animated series was spared from one of the most desperate attempts at drama since ever.

Of course there're people who're relevant to Spawn's former life as Al Simmons, and this series does not take those details for granted. He wants desperately to see his Wanda one last time and he takes the opportunities, only for her to be appropriately disturbed by what is now at his disposal. His best friend Terry married her and had a child, and though Spawn was appropriately angry that he got further than he did, he realized it wasn't out of malice and at least found closure on that. Spawn was even able to confront his physical killer, Chapel, and of course he wouldn't show any mercy, having him live with the guilt, but having the strength to not have his soul claimed by Malebolgia. Finally, Jason Wynn, basically the whole reason things fell into place. Spawn indirectly served as a key to unlocking Wynn's corrupt practices, including black market trading. Whenever he strikes, he sends others to do so and is determined to keep his conquests in check. However, after becoming severely burned from a mythical mask, apparently the unmade fourth season would've had him seek redemption... either apologizing to Spawn or trying to have his soul be made pure so he can go to heaven, though the latter seems to be the case as he feared his actions against Al Simmons would catch up to him.

The seasons can be summed up like this.

The first season exists to establish Spawn and his motivations, as well as him settling into Rat City, an alleyway serving as a sanctuary for the homeless, and one where a number of shady dealings take place no doubt thanks to Wynn and for the first season, Tony Twist, who is promptly dealt with after Spawn makes quick work of Overt-kill, whom Twist sends to deal with a stake in their affairs.

The second season sees Spawn confronting Chapel and Terry finding himself scrutinized by Wynn after learning of his black market dealings, while Spawn is seen as a protector of Rat City. This also sees the introduction of Washington Post reporter Lisa Wu, who is soon revealed to be Jade, which the third season would confirm. As for the third season, Spawn realizes he can no longer get back to his old life as Wanda outright rejects him out of pure fear, a series of events would help clear Terry and expose Wynn, Twitch would survive an attempted assassination by his and Sam's superior officer and confirm his connection to Wynn, Jade willingly gives up after discovering Spawn's humanity is stronger than prior hellspawns she was sent to kill, and by dying a warrior's death she can maintain a place in heaven, and the series ends with Spawn wanting his humanity back. To some, this seems like a bad end, but this can be seen a number of ways, like how he is willing to be dead, knowing he's now a burden to those he cares about and can never live the life that was yanked from him, while realizing those who have wronged him were dealt with

Acting

Keith David as Spawn is complicated, because it isn’t Keith David playing Spawn, just Keith David. All that changes role to role is the script and the direction. Play his Spawn with his Goliath (Gargoyles) and I’m sure you’d find some similarities. Of course that isn’t to say it’s a bad performance by any stretch, but I can’t say the voice is necessarily unique. About the only time it seemed sorta different was when he played Atlas in Teen Titans.

But to be fair, let's bring up another example of an actor who is well recognized for one role, even though it's a similar performance across the board. Mike Pollock is the current voice of Doctor Eggman. While he has owned the role, his voice ins't particularly unique, a keen ear can easily pick that up when watching other 4Kids shows. However, the voice became synonymous with Eggman, as it fit the character. Mike Pollock is Eggman as much as Keith David is Spawn, having voices that suit the characters well and serve to truly define them.

Then there's one of the more interesting actors for Tony Twist, interesting in that he's played by the same guy, James Keane, who played Mr. Green on Hey Arnold!, and I say it that way because Hey Arnold! came before Spawn's animated adaptation. Keane also played Sam in this show, so it turns out he has more range than I'd expect of him.

And there’s not a single piece of Tara Strong or Grey DeLisle to be heard, it’s a breath of fresh air. We do however get Kath Soucie, sure, I'm okay with that, I know little of her personal life and her voice isn't as obnoxiously stale and repetitive as Grey DeLisle's, and she isn't a raging bitch like Tara Strong. Bite me.

But that's not all. We got the voice of Mulan playing Jade, James Hong; guy from the Seinfeld episode The Chinese Restaurant doing a role, Jennifer Jason Leigh got to play a character one time too, and there's a rule that says if it exists, Eric Roberts has to lend his voice one time. Inherently, it's a mixture of actors either not entirely in the loop of traditional voice acting or already are, and it can work, I know it did here.

Layers

There is some hidden complexity within even the smallest of things. Take for instance Spawn's encounter with that bad cop in the fifth episode. He threatens Gareb, but his anger was due to the stress of seeing one of his right hand cops and others literally blown up by a deranged priest who turns out to be Clown. Of course you wouldn't root for the cop but you kinda understand what led him to go bad, even get some irony of Spawn making him a message board, and after getting killed by Clown he gets the message about Spawn's presence to Sam and Twitch. This actually helps to give more weight and motivation to later scenes, for instance, Twitch's encounter with Spawn. Spawn has already determined cops to be outright crooked, but Twitch manages to demonstrate a stronger moral compass, and bravery in the name of learning the truth, and Spawn returns the favor with a warning, which really is him being nice.

You can even see such strong motivations with the other characters. Wynn is a uniformly corrupt individual, but he fears for his life upon realizing what he had created in Spawn, and he becomes determined to destroy him to save his own ass. Clown can seem like a hardass, but it's kind of his job, he wants to make sure Spawn fulfills his obligations. Terry married Wanda, but he never meant to infringe on foreign territory, and Chapel seemed to express repressed guilt over killing Al, before it drove him insane. Then Sam and Twitch, throughout the entire series leading up to a hell of a finish, and of course Jade which not only put her through an arc but helped better establish Spawn's humanity.

A great show is more than the sum of its parts, and I feel Spawn went above and beyond in that regard. It's really something you have to see for yourself.

The Animation

I was directed to this series because I loved the animation in the Freak on a Leash video, and I was not disappointed here. The animation was produced in house at HBO, and they also worked on Hot City which came out around the same time. MadHouse are credited to producing the show's title sequence. MadHouse is a prevalent anime production company, but they've had a hand in some American productions. For instance, they produced the animation for the second season of Street Fighter: The Animated Series.

However, MadHouse merely served as a contractor for other companies. In the first season, animation was split between KoKo Enterprises, Sheen Production and Sung Production. Koko were involved in quite a bit, producing the animation for the first season of Static Shock, Superman The Animated Series and took on animation services for Men in Black: The Series after the first season. For the second season it looks like MadHouse took on a more direct role in animation production alongside DR Movie. DR Movie also happened to produce the animation for Men in Black: The Series, but also produced the third season for Avatar: The Last Airbender, episodes of The Batman including The Batman Vs. Dracula, one episode of Teen Titans, they helped produce the Death Tome segment in The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror XXXIII, DC Superhero Girls, Justice League/Unlimited, they did one episode of Street Fighter, Masters of the Universe: Revelation, oh, they even did Loonatics Unleashed and High Guardian Spice.

It's important I highlight the more anime type shows and lesser stuff to demonstrate how subtle their work is on a visual basis in Spawn, but soon.

Okay, back on track, the last season was handled through Mook Co., who produced the first season of Men in Black: The Series, Swat Katz: Radical Squadron and the Scooby-Doo direct-to-video films from Zombie Island to Cyber Chase. At first I thought they were the ones behind the entire series, but I was wrong.

With Todd McFarlane playing a major role in the series' development, either he'd have plenty of freedom to take advantage of, or he's just there to make people happy. Okay this isn't going anywhere, what I'm trying to say is that things are drawn and animated to act like a direct translation of the comics. It's a huge contrast to the overt anime aesthetics and overtones present in other comic book adaptations. Now, it seems like most comic book adaptations outsource their work to Japan or equivalent studios in Korea in order to better replicate the action, but somewhere along the line people cut the middleman and decided to bank on the growing popularity of anime in the states.

Or maybe I'm overthinking it.

Spawn's animation is great, but far from perfect. They tend to take shortcuts and reuse animations, but most shows do and they're not as blatant as say... The Real Ghostbusters in its twilight seasons. Of course it's of no hinderance to the constant action going on, it isn't too complex, but it isn't too simple either. The art design provides a gritty appearance that compliments Spawn quite nicely, if it was overtly anime-esque, it would lose its punch, its grit, and just be a faceless series.

Senseless Comparisons

In a way, I feel that Spawn set a good standard for comic book shows that seek to be dark, well Batman: TAS aside. There're a lot of shows I can compare Spawn with, so let's begin with another series adapted from an Image Comics series, Invincible.

The differences are night and day. Spawn employs a more grounded comic translated appearance, while Invincible embraces the anime schtick wholeheartedly. It feels like a Cartoon Network action show from the mid-late 2000s but with blood and cursing, and of course their brand of humor. It can be enjoyed on a surface level, but when someone comes along and does it better, it's hard to really deny that.

Take the introductions of Monster Girl there and Angela here. With the introduction of Angela, you get a quick hint to her hero appearance, and when she goes into the alley you expect her to show her powers, but she just uses melee and anything subtle. You’d expect her to go full hero, but they don’t play into it, all you’d expect is for those creeps to get their asses handed to them, just no way of knowing how.

With Monster Girl, it's like this. There's a character who looks like she doesn't belong there. She is provoked into showing her power, this has been done. Now, it can be done right, don't get me wrong. Take Fantastic Four: World's Greatest Heroes' introduction to She-Hulk in the sure. Yes, she is shown at the start of the episode, but you know who we don't see right away? Jennifer Walters. Hence, it's possible to be surprised by its reveal for those who haven't read the comics, and yeah, the series features somewhat different takes on existing Marvel characters so there is a chance to be surprised. Not to mention, they didn't mention her name, like Invincible did with Monster Girl, thus eliminating any sense of surprise and dragging it out to make it look like a huge reveal. I'm just saying.

Next up, let's resurrect an old punching bag of mine for some extra blows, Teen Titans. Spawn did an episode that tackled racism, but handled it in the best possible way, show, don't tell. You would think they would make it where Terry or Spawn are maligned for being African American, but no, they have a psychopath who kills African Americans for dark intent, and the racist motivation behind it isn't stated outright. This episode has enough faith in its viewers to let them connect the dots, whereas Teen Titans spoonfeeds the message, pussyfoots around directly focusing on those who would face prejudice, because Tamaranians don't exist, and above all, rather than take the opportunity to incorporate lore from the comics, they make up a character that exists solely to push the message.

And yes, Static Shock tackled racism direct, but they handled it better by committing to the kind of racism people are the most aware of, and I'm happy that episode is getting more and more recognition for it, while Troq isn't as much. Consider this a segway into the next section.

Getting Away With It

Spawn was able to get away with a lot of stuff, though some would argue it was because it aired on a premium cable network and at a time when kids would likely be asleep, midnight to be exact. That's a good argument, but I feel that any show, anywhere could get away with stuff, well, beyond overt gruesomeness and gratuity, whether it's premium or basic cable, network television or syndication. To better explain my point, let's refer to Stripperella, Static Shock and Swat Katz.

Stripperella aired on a basic cable channel, and if you didn't get the idea from the title, it's a show about a superhero who happens to be a stripper, and yes, that profession is shown full stop. In spite of that, there's more to the show than it. Stripperella feels like it's trying to pay tribute to silver age comic stories, or just parody the genre, or maybe Stan Lee was clearing his desk drawers, I dunno. What I'm trying to say is that they got away with showing T&A on basic cable, lest the copy I saw was sourced from a DVD, but hey, they were wiling. For syndication, let's turn to Swat Katz. This show got a way with quite a bit, especially for stuff I bashed Teen Titans for skimping on, like characters going insane for whatever reason, even death, with some gruesome killings shown, shadow or not. Now yes, syndication lacks the standards network television does, hence producers were able to get away with a hell of a lot more, but what about that network example? Networks are ones that crack down on no-no stuff the most often.

Well... Static Shock.

Racism focused episode aside, Static Shock went dark a decent amount of times, and they never held back for anything. They made it clear Virgil's mom died under harsh circumstances, they highlight her death and the impact on the family, they put one character in critical condition as a wake-up call for Virgil to take his heroic obligations seriously, the first episode featured a gang war, hell, need I remind you of Jimmy, where a gun is blatantly shown, well, again, in a straight up depiction of a potential school shooting, oh, need I forget how the weapon is fired and someone gets hurt, on network television.

But wait, isn't The WB technically a cable network, same with Cartoon Network, beyond Kids WB shows airing on WB affiliates in syndication? I mean Teen Titans was also in the same boat as Static Shock, but you could argue Static Shock did a hell of a lot more than Teen Titans did in highlighting serious issues, and above all committing to genuinely dark stories. I'd argue that Static Shock serves as a kids equivalent to Spawn for going above and beyond, showing writers genuinely cared about making engaging content, and Spawn just helped inspire me to see just how it could be done, or how it has been.

Now, if you really want to see the differences in impact an episode could have, compare Teen Titans' Haunted to Spawn's Home, Bitter Home.

Relationship

As far as how I feel about the show, I have the same relationship with it that I do with Koala Man. Both of them are great shows and vouching for their quality is a hill I'd be happy to die on. The issue is that I don't like to participate in discussions of either, because I know where they'd lead. Spawn got cancelled too soon, Koala Man was created by the same guy behind Smiling Friends, do the math. I still like the shows, but I know it can go south if I encounter the wrong people.

Not only did I bring up Koala Man for that, but because both represent the best of two sides of a superhero show. Koala Man is a well written comedy with glimpses of character complexity and motivations made clear, all in series about a man coping with his past and a midlife crisis, I guess. Meanwhile, Spawn is a well written horror drama with clever dialog helping to provide some relief every once in a while. Bringing back Teen Titans just to get this out, Koala Man is set in an absurdist world so you can take the weird things happening as a given and they let the jokes flow without resorting to tropisms to get a laugh out, and Spawn has every right to commit to more gruesome acts, both because of its midnight slot on a premium network and already being based on a gruesome comic book series.I don't know how else to end this, so let's go on.

Do I Want to see More?

So, seeing what I've said, do I want Spawn to get another season? Well the answer to that, is no. I don't. You're probably confused, lest you've seen my philosophy before. The thing about continuing, what if the ending turns out to be a letdown? A journey is only as good as the destination, if the end sucks it will drag down the experience of the rest of the series because you know that’s how it will end and there is nothing you can do about it, Camp Lazlo and Star Vs. beckon. There's also the matter if one more season is gonna be enough, will people be fine with that, or will they just keep asking for more? Ask for an inch, but take a mile. And of course people can indirectly kill the good will in seeing things continue. I never want to see Infinity Train or Glitch Techs with how clingy people are to those.

Then there's the matter of unintentional cockiness, had with shows like Sonic SatAM and Teen Titans, where they immediately end with either a cliffhanger, or a downer, something to gaslight people into thinking they want more. My philosophy on television shows go like this, treat every season finale like it's your series finale, leave off on a note that you can pick up the pieces on or satisfying enough to accept, which is something Spawn did, by having Spawn reaffirm his want to be human. You may say he hardly evolved, I'd say you're confused. Spawn wanting his humanity suggests he knows he can't get his old life back, but also won't be the leader of Malebolja's army, he is willing to die, but we don't see it. It could've been worse.

Okay yes, there's the matter of Spawn impregnating Wanda with a child that would serve as a decider for the fate of the world, but it would take a long time before the baby would be able to make a conscious decision and act on it. There's another element to the fourth season, but I'm not gonna bring it up, knowing how people on Twitter would lose their minds and that's another series thoroughly ruined by total goons.

Final Thoughts

Spawn is an underrated gem, for sure, but given the climate of cartoon culture, maybe it's for the best not that many people know about it, let this be like a secluded spot a select few people know about, a well kept secret not tainted by idiots, like Mission Odyssey.

I would say HBO turning away from animation after Spawn and Hot City concluded ironically predicted the state of HBO Max, but then you realize stuff like The Life and Times of Tim and The Ricky Gervais Show existed.

#image comics #spawn #todd macfarlane

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murdock-barnes · 2 years ago

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I NEED A MATTHEW MURDOCK ANGST sort of? based on the she hulk episode. so they're like married but he's still this huge player and sleeps with random women when his wife isn't at home, like when he went to LA or whatever he fucked she hulk even when he's in a relationship and she finds out and just breaks down preferably no smut with reader and matty but add whatever u want with him and anyone else ty!!

A Million Heartbreaks

Matt Murdock x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Manwhore Matt(he deserves his own warning lmao), pure angst

Word Count: 1,8K

A/N: Reblogs and comments are sooo appreciated! I really wanna hear what you think of this🥹

You stirred awake upon hearing the door being shut. Confusion and panic filled you for a second but then you remembered that your husband had a late flight. It must have been him.

"Matthew?" you called out.

"Yeah, it's me," his voice came. A relief filled you when you heard his voice, accompanied by deep sorrow.

He entered the bedroom, dropping his suitcase. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

You shook your head no, he could tell. Matt was always so sweet... until he's not.

You sat up, your back on the bedframe. "How was your trip?"

"Uh... it was okay." He was shaking off his clothes as he talked.

"That's it?" you asked. "Tell me more. I would love to hear about She-Hulk. She's so famous these days."

"Yeah... she was cool. Jen is a great lawyer."

"Jen?" you mumbled under your breath.

He noticed the change in your tone but didn't want to further investigate. He was left in his boxers and now slipped under the covers beside you. He seemed ready to sleep.

"I saw the trial, you know? On the news," you said. "Jennifer was talking to the reporters outside the court and I saw you in the back, leaving the building with that designer guy."

"Uh huh."

"You weren't wearing your wedding ring."

Matt's eyes opened. You couldn't hear heartbeats but you knew his got way quicker now.

"Baby..." he started.

“You just can’t help it, can you?" The disappointment in your voice burned his chest. Matt was truly sorry but yes he knew he just couldn't help it.

"What are you talking about?" His brows furrowed. Oh, he was gonna take the highway again.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You couldn't keep it in your pants... AGAIN. You fucked Jennifer."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me... I don't have to explain myself but that did not happen."

There he was. The same old same old.

"I can't believe you..."

"Sweetheart, I swear nothing happened between me and her. Can we just talk about this in the morning?" He closed his eyes and shuffled to get into a more comfortable position.

"Oh my God! You're unbelievable and insufferable!"

He opened his eyes with a huff. His attitude only made you more annoyed and angry.

"Don't even try, Matt. There's a literal video of you leaving her house, doing the walk of shame. Some dude recognized your pathetic ass, filmed it, and put it on Twitter."

"What? That couldn't be me. I was in my hotel room all night."

He was kidding, right? Did he really think you were that dumb?

"I swear to God, if you attempt to gaslight me one more time, I'm gonna smack you so hard in the face."

He squeezed his eyes shut with a grunt. You didn't say a word and just waited for him to admit it. It's always been the same. He cheated, you confronted him, he denied it, and then confessed his sins. The same cat and mouse game.

"I did it." His voice was bitter, guilt dripping from every word. You couldn't give two fucks about his so-called guilt.

You chuckled, knowingly. He did it again despite his promises... and the promises before that... and before that. You gave him another chance every time because you wanted to believe in him. You've seen how determined he could be with his vigilante shit. Maybe he could put the same effort into his marriage. He never did.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what-"

"Shut it!" your voice grew stronger now. Your body was burning with rage and sadness and disappointment.

"How could you, Matt? Again?" You threw off the covers, sitting taller. "I am so sick and tired. I can't take it anymore."

He got up and sit, turning to you. His hands reached yours to hold but you drew them back, away from his touch. You got off the bed and started pacing the room.

"Please, I'll make it up-"

You couldn't stand hearing his whining, honestly. "Oh, stop it! It's the same thing every time. You go fuck around and come back, begging me to forgive you. You have no fucking respect for me, let alone love! I've had enough."

He pouted "Don't say that, you know I love you."

"No, you don't... No. If you were, you wouldn't do any of this."

He got up quickly and before you know it, he was at your feet, groveling. His forehead hit the ground and his hands grabbed your ankles. "I'll pray. I'll confess and repent my sins. Please, forgive me. I truly am sorry. Please."

Was he fucking for real? You backed away, slipping away from his clutch.

"You're such a good Catholic boy, aren't you? Catholic, my ass! Your conscience only seems to be working when it comes to killing but adultery and lying are okay, huh?"

A pained grunt came from him but he stayed in the same position. "I know, I'm a horrible person. I've made a mistake again. Please, take me back."

"You said it was a mistake with Claire, too and it was just one time with Karen. And Elektra... don't even get me started on her." You took in a sharp breath. Tears were burning your eyes. "You always went back to her. Whenever you were in trouble, you didn't come to me. Instead, you went into her arms."

He was silent as he sat up, taking his head between his hands.

"I don't know... maybe I am the problem. Maybe I couldn't give you the comfort that a wife should've given but I tried my best, Matt. You didn't even try." Your voice cracked in the last part and tears started to spill down your face.

"No... no. It's not you. You've been nothing but supportive and loving to me. I... I ruin everything." He swallowed hard with that lump in his throat. He hated seeing you sad and especially knowing that he was the one that was making you sad.

"You can't just say you ruin everything and move on with your life being an impending doom, Matt. You gave up. You're not even trying to be better. I've been on my own in this marriage for a long time now."

You sat on the bed with a huff. How did your relationship turn into this? It was all so sweet in the beginning. That night at the bar changed your life. This handsome, mysterious stranger approached you, buying you a drink. Honestly, you just wanted a free drink but the conversation hooked you. He was a charming man and a dangerous one. It felt like he was luring you into dark, shady waters but he was oh-so-sweet.

It was a month into your relationship when you found out he was the devil of Hell's Kitchen. One night, he stumbled into your apartment, beaten up and bloody. You spent the rest of the night tending his wounds. For you, it was hard to accept that he was risking his life out there every night. Somehow you got used to it.

Three months after getting married, you got promoted at work. Everything was so great, you were so happy. However, now your position required you to travel sometimes and you hated being away from Matt.

It was one of those nights that you came from a trip. Matt wasn't home so you just changed and decided to wait for him. You poured yourself a glass of wine and right when you were about to sit on the couch, something caught your eye. You leaned down to check. There was a red thong beside the couch, almost under it. Your body froze, all the air in your lungs emptying. It definitely wasn't yours. When you confronted Matt about it, he refused to recognize the underwear. Shocking! He even claimed that it was yours. That was your first big fight and when you find out about Claire.

There have been more work trips and more women. You only knew about Claire, Karen, and Elektra but you were certain that there were so much more. Why was he doing this? Why having you wasn't enough?

"Was I ever enough for you, Matthew?"

Matt never ever heard your voice so broken. He was drowning in your sadness while the taste of your tears filled the room.

"I gave you all of me and I did it gladly. I love you with all my heart, all my existence. We took a vow. We swore before God. We promised to honor each other." Your voice was barely a whisper now but he heard you loud and clear.

You fiddled with your ring, it almost burned your flesh now. "We promised to wear these rings to show our love and faithfulness."

Matt was sitting there silently and tears were falling out of his eyes. He was well aware that he fucked up. He ruined the best thing in his life. He made his one and only's heart bleed.

You were just sitting there contemplating the broken shards that were your marriage. You never loved anyone as much as you loved him. Hell, that was probably the only reason you kept forgiving him. He was a good man, you knew but he was in a constant battle with his demons. He would sometimes be off the rails but he always came back to you.

How long could you do this? How many more women? All these years, he trampled down your honor and dignity in the name of love and mistakes but no more.

No more.

You took a deep breath in and got up. It might've looked like a simple movement but it took all your courage and what's left of your dignity. You wouldn't take this man's disrespect and dishonesty anymore. Matt's head snapped in your direction, following every little movement.

You walked to the front door, grabbing your purse and coat. When Matt realized what was happening, he was by your side before you know it.

"Baby, please don't go. Let's just talk." He grabbed you by the waist and tried to halt your motion.

You tried to shrug him off but his hold was strong. "There's nothing to talk about. Let me go."

Matt's heart was breaking into million pieces. The idea of you leaving him... the idea of moving on with his life without you... he wished he could take back the time and undo every misdeed he committed.

"Don't leave me. Please... I'll change... for good this time, I swear. Baby, please don't do this to me."

His words burned through your chest. Even though he broke your heart a million times, you still felt sad because he was sad. His pretty face was contorted in pain. His unfocused eyes were filled with tears. You wanted to reach and wipe his tears away, give him a kiss and hug him.

No more.

"I'm done, Matt. I can't do this anymore. I don't deserve to be treated like this. I never did." You freed yourself from his grip and opened the door.

He fell onto his knees with a sob. "Please..."

You took in the view in front of you, feeling pity for him. Right before you walked out of the door, you said "Sign the divorce papers when they arrive."

#matt murdock angst #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #marvel imagine #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x reader #fanfiction #matt murdock #marvel fanfiction

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chokemewanda · 3 years ago

Text

Whispers

You had heard all there was to hear about your life and where you actually came from.

Warnings: swearing, men, canon typical violence, men being men

Rumors Masterlist

“I heard she worked on the cure for cancer and she found it but the government won’t let her produce it because it would ruin the economy so now she’s on more watch lists than the Black Widow.”

“Well I heard she worked on the Winter Soldier Project and now she’s here cause she’s the only one who can control him.”

“I heard that too but I heard she started in The Red Room. She was the one who gave them all their graduation gifts, you know?”

“Well I heard she was actually the one who had gotten the calculations wrong and turned Doctor Banner into the Hulk.”

Every version of every rumor had, at one point or another, been muttered in your presence. You were the consulting physician in Avengers tower, spending most your day with agents injured in battle.

You had taken over for an imbecile. He had been too easy on the agents, allowing room for recurring injuries and signing off on return to field requests much too early.

So now you were the hardass. The one who could cure cancer but chose not to, the one that sterilized little girls and froze prisoners of war. You were the horror story Med Students learned about when they walked in the door of Stark Tower with starry eyes.

Sometimes it made you laugh. You’d wave away the comments, writing your favorite ones down to tell your friends over brunch. Other times it led to tired sighs and stitches just a little too tight.

Today was a stitches too tight kind of day. You had fourteen injured agents dumped in your lap in the early hours of the morning. You had been catching a few minutes sleep in an on call room only to suddenly have your floor flooded.

It had only gotten worse from there. Two of your medics were among the injured and only one nurse had shown up for the graveyard shift. So here you were running triage on some of the most impatient agents you had ever met.

Four of your most injured had taken up over two hours of your time, arranging for consultations with Helen Cho and her cradle. They were badly burned and you were doing all you could to keep them comfortable, your one nurse attending to them with cooling gels, and cold flannels.

The next group who needed the priority care consisted of two stabilized bullet wounds and a broken jaw bone. You were glad that neither of the bullet patients needed operating. Just a removal for one, stitches for both.

The broken jaw patient would require surgery and you were waiting for a team to take on that case, the resident Orthopedic doctor was currently proving difficult to contact.

The remaining seven agents had an assortment of easily solved problems. A few dislocations, a couple of stitches. Nothing serious.

Not that you’d think it from the groaning and complains you got as you rushed between their beds, reading charts and signing off on their medication, distributed by a student medic with shaky hands.

“Hey sweetheart, you think you could bother yourself to check my shoulder out. I been waiting almost four hours.” You moved Agent King’s file to the bottom of the pile while holding direct eye contact. “Bitch.”

You tossed his file right into the trash, ignoring his protest. If you were a worse person you’d have jostled him while moving to check on his neighbors stab wound.

“You talk to me in that tone once more King and you can go find another doctor to treat you.” You warned, accepting the suture kit your loyal nurse handed over.

“Imagine asking you to do your job.” He scoffed and you rolled your eyes, looking up when there was a throat cleared.

“You called for help?” An unlikely duo stood at the end of the bed you were at. Doctor Banner and The Black Widow dressed in civilian clothes.

“From people with medical experience.” You told him warily. “I’m short staffed.”

“We’ll I’m a doctor and Nat has field medic training.” Bruce offered and you nodded to yourself. You could work with that.

“You know how to suture?” You asked Dr. Banner who nodded, rolling his sleeves up. “Bed nine needs a stab wound closed and bed eleven.”

Without another word Dr. Banner disappeared off to find his work. Natasha remained in place, awaiting orders.

“You know how fix a dislocated shoulder?” You asked and she nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” She promised solemnly and you found yourself smiling.

“Then get this asshole behind me sorted, give him a sling and kick him out.” You jerked your head back to nod at King who only scowled.

“No problem.”

///

Eight hours later your burn patients were post-op, most of the agents had been treated and discharged and you were about to give handover to the incoming staff.

Your tiny team of Nurse Aya, the trainee medic Haley, and Eric, a trained medic were all exhausted, almost asleep standing up. Doctor Banner was filling in reports, detailing the care he had provided and medication he had prescribed.

Natasha was on a coffee run, hoping to provide everyone with enough of a caffeine kick to get them home.

You planned to just crash in the on-call room, afraid if you attempted to get the subway home you’d be asleep long after your stop.

“I think that’s it for now.” Dr. Banner handed you your file with a small smile, all the patients details up to date.

///

“I’m not treating you.” You resolutely took a seat on the bed opposite the one filled with an outraged agent. He was almost red in the face with anger. You didn’t care.

“You ain’t got a choice. I do my job, you do yours.” He hissed and your raised your eyebrows before laughing at him.

“Sex workers have all my respect but I’m not one of them. I attempted to stitch you up twice now. You made it uncomfortable both times. I’m now refusing treatment.” You told Agent King.

The Agent had somehow managed to get stabbed in the thigh, while off duty. He came to you for treatment and you attempted to treat him twice.

Both times he had twisted under the pretense of pain, causing your hands to brush against more intimate areas.

“I need stitches!” He insisted and you shrugged at him, uncaring. It wasn’t your fault he was a pervert and you weren’t really required to treat anyone not injured on the job.

“You stupid-“

The gentle throat clearing happened from behind you. Doctor Banner stood to the side of the bed you were sat on, wringing his hands together.

“Friday said you needed some help again.” You silently thanked the AI in the ceiling, a grin coming over your lips.

“I do. Agent King needs stitches and seems to be refusing my care.” You hopped off the bed, trading places with Bruce who examined the cut from a distance, looking between you and King.

“He refused care?” Bruce asked, looking over his glasses at you and you attempted to hide your smile.

“He refused care that didn’t involve a hand job.” King sputtered at your phrasing and Bruce rolled his eyes, turning back to the lousy agent.

“Is it sore here?” Banner dung his finger into the cut and King hissed, pulling away in pain. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do stay still, I’d hate to stitch other parts to your leg by accident.”

Doctor Banner found you in your office less than twenty minutes later, his folded glasses in hand and stray strands of hair falling down in his face. You admired him for a moment before standing from your seat.

“Thank you. I appreciate you coming down.” You told him earnestly. “King is a pain.”

“Seems it.” Bruce nodded in agreement. “Figured there’s no harm in helping you. You know, for old times sake?”

You blinked at him before his grin took over his face and you knew he was referencing the rumors of you having a hand in the creation of The Hulk.

“Clearly I need to be supervised.” You laughed and he ran a hand up through his hair, returning the stray strands to place.

“You also look like you need a coffee. Would you like to come get one with me?” Your smile grew slightly strained as the good doctor grew bashful. “Or not.”

“I appreciate the offer Bruce but I can’t leave the floor while I’m on call.” You told him softly and he smiled, accepting your rejection with dignity.

“Another time then.” Both of you knew that he wouldn’t ask again. Something you appreciated.

///

The elevator to the Medical floor opened and you shut your eyes tightly because if you didn’t see them then they didn’t exist.

“Hey Doc, you miss me?” Clint Barton asked. He seemed to be in the best condition of the five with him besides Natasha who was supporting him.

“Not even remotely. What’d you do this time?” You asked with a sigh as your team fanned out, picking agents and leading them to a bed.

“I have most definitely broke the thirteenth rib on my left side.” He told you, holding a hand over his abdomen. “Maybe on the right side.”

“I gotta say, you must have tried really hard. Given that last time I gave you a chest x-ray you only had twelve ribs on either side.” You told him as Natasha helped him up on to the bed.

“I’m just that talented.” He told you with a winning smile and then a wince. “Or that stupid.”

“I know which option I’m going with.” You sighed and turned to the trolley that Aya had prepared for you. You smiled at her graciously before turning back to Clint

“How come you smile at other people but not me?” Clint asked with a pout. You ignored him, pulling out a scissors and reaching for the top of his suit. “No way, this is the third this month. Fury will kill me.”

“You’re such a fucking baby. It’s not like you can pull it off right now.” You snapped and he looked around, grappling for something to distract you.

“Natasha needs treatment too! She got stabbed.” He told you quickly and you looked back to Natasha who shrugged.

“Bed eight is free. Ask Aya for a suture kit.” You told her, returning to Clint. He only pouted at you because he knew there was no point arguing. Natasha did her own stitches. You just provided the materials she would need.

“How come she gets to treat herself?” Clint asked. He was in a mood. A ridiculous mood.

“Shut up.”

///

After two hours, one shredded uniform and a whiny Clint, you found Natasha laying on bed eight, an untouched suture kit beside her. She had her jaw clenched, a familiar sweatshirt on and her own uniform pulled down to her hips.

“Where’d you get stabbed?” You asked her conversationally. You pulled up a stool, rolling to her bedside. She didn’t answer you but she didn’t have to. If she could reach where she needed the stitches she wouldn’t still be here. “Roll over.”

She did so without a sound and you lifted your sweatshirt- the one you had worn in this morning - up to find a wad of gauze secured to her back with medical tape haphazardly.

“You could’ve called me over.” You sighed, gently peeling away the tape. “I would’ve appreciated getting away from Clint sooner.”

Natasha laughed and you sighed, cleaning the wound. She wouldn’t talk to you much, given how vulnerable she was making herself just by allowing treatment.

In the time you’d been working in Stark Tower you had only stitched Natasha one other time and that was because she had been unconscious. She never asked for help, often to the detriment of her own health.

When you finished up with the neat row of stitches you placed a cover over it and pulled her, your, sweatshirt back down.

“You can keep it.” You sighed when she reached to take it off. “Pulling your suit up will just burst the stitches.”

She didn’t say anything but you left her to it, making your way back to your paperwork. When you returned to check on her she was gone, along with your sweatshirt and Clint.

#mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff blurb #Natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x f!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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dysfunctionalmaki · 3 years ago

Text

To Realize

Main Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Natasha's been connecting all the dots about how she feels about you, it's up to her to how she'll handle the situation.

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot until... I wanted to base it on the whole Black Widow movie :"))

Warnings: none, let me know if there's any.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Your last interaction with your father didn't go well, he simply told you that Secretary Ross is now after you and Natasha after helping Steve, and Bucky to get in the Quinjet while T'challa was after them.

Quickly tackling the king of Wakanda on the ground, while Natasha shot something at him to give Rogers and his friend time to take off, as soon as the jet flew away, you removed your arms that are restraining him.

"Your father will hear about this, and you too Miss Romanoff." The exact words that came out of T'challa, and now you're on the run with Natasha, considered as a global fugitive.

Your father looked at you with disappointment when he mentioned that Ross will be chasing you and the latter, you looked at Natasha before she took your hand and leading you out, taking you to who knows where.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"You miss your daddy?" Natasha spoke while driving, you chuckle at her words then resting your head against the car window. "Hmm, kinda, so what are we doing here in Norway?" You ask the latter.

"Well, you've noticed that Ross is after our asses after assaulting the King of Wakanda, and helping Steve and Barnes escape the airport, I believe we should lay low, right?" She propped her elbow by the window, resting her head on her knuckle as she drives with one hand. "Oh? I didn't know that." You replied sarcastically, making Natasha roll her eyes.

"What I mean is, why Norway of all places?" Now you're kindly asking, arms crossed over your chest and slowly drifting off to sleep, exhausted after hours of traveling, without Daddy's private planes, sports car, and Quinjet also.

Natasha noticed how your voice softens, a long yawn coming out of your mouth, and quickly glancing at you. "Ross has no jurisdiction here, his boys would stay away from here for the time being." She answered, you softly nodded and replied with an 'okay' almost a whisper with how silent it was.

In a split second, you're already fast asleep at the passenger seat, both arms hugging yourself and your head resting against the window. Nat maintained her eyes on the road as she attempts to reach for a blanket she stashed in the backseat, after few shifts in her place, the Russian managed to grab the cloth.

She gently placed the soft blanket over you, and now focusing herself on driving, for some reason, she has always felt this warm feeling in her heart when she's alone with you, adoration maybe?

Your peaceful state while you're in deep slumber, and hearing your soft snores as she admires the view of the landscape, she would offer everything she has just to stay like this most of the time.

The thought caught her off-guard, why would she want to spend all of her time with her friend's daughter? She shrugged the thought off from her mind, she knows what love feels like, she felt it with Bruce until Hulk decided to drive off somewhere they won't find him.

She did get sad because of it, but she chose to move forward and move on, successfully removing any romantic feelings for Banner, focusing on her work as an Agent and an Avenger.

But why is she feeling this way with you? Her heart melts when she sees you getting all excited when you've successfully upgraded your techs, how she would automatically smile when her eyes would catch you smiling, and how she feels warm when you're there to ease her mind when a mission didn't go as planned.

She's now connecting the dots, using the silence and peace surrounding her, she got time to think about herself and her feelings towards Tony Stark's daughter.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

After half an hour of the drive, you slowly wake up from your nap, looking around the surroundings you're in the middle of the woods, Natasha's still driving. "Good uhh... Evening?" You greeted Nat with your groggy voice.

Natasha stopped the car beside the safehouse, which is a caravan and you don't mind, you can't really call your father to get you a 5-star hotel to stay in. "Did you manage to replenish your energy?" She asked, unbuckling her seat belt and you did the same.

Getting out of the car, she has her gun out and you also have one on your hand, staying alert until both of you heard a loud snore in the room. Natasha immediately returned to her relaxed posture before heading into where the sound belongs, and she found her contractor sleeping.

Kicking his foot that is off the bed, the man immediately woke up. "You're sleeping in my bed." Natasha commented, "I'm not even under the covers." He replied, then his eyes trail at you, awkwardly looking away noticing that the two seemed close.

"I've got what you asked for, fake IDs, drivers licenses, and some VISAs, also for Miss Stark too, just like what you've told me to do." He says as he handed out the fake identifications to Natasha, while reading, the Russian frowned upon what she just read. "Really? Fanny Longbottom?"

"That is a legitimate name." He defended himself, them Natasha handed your fake IDs, taking a good look at them and you're amazed about how real they seem to be. "Thank you...?" You softly spoke.

"Rick, Rick Mason." He introduced himself, and you shook his hand also introducing yourself, with little chit-chat soon after the man left leaving you and Natasha alone.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

An hour has passed it's already dark out, you're currently sitting by the front door, knees up to your chest, and you already felt homesick, Natasha's company is nice honestly, but the feeling of being far away from your father and home sucks.

Natasha looks at you while you're way too busy gazing at the woods, she knows you aren't used to this type of setup, running away from authorities, and far from home, she felt bad for you.

She walks up behind you, making sure you're aware of her presence before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm going to watch a movie on my laptop, feel free to join me, I'm also eating the ice cream we bought at the convenience store earlier." She softly spoke before leaving you alone.

Minutes after, you finally stood up from where you are sitting and closing the front door, almost dragging your way to Natasha. Two bowls of ice cream in front of her, and her laptop already on, she was waiting for you.

You placed yourself beside her, head resting on her shoulder then she plays the movie on the screen, lazily taking a spoonful of the cold treat in your mouth, and eyes glued on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to the movie, you're spacing out.

"Hey, Y/N? Are you okay?" Of course, not, Natasha knows damn well you aren't okay, she thought that it's a dumb question. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" You answered just like your father, she paused the film and causing you to look at her. "No, you're not okay, and that's okay." She says before taking you into her arms.

You're surprised actually, Natasha isn't usually the one who initiates physical contact but here she is, her arms wrapped around your body. You needed this, you needed to feel home and somehow being hugged by Natasha feels like it.

Burying your face at her shoulders then you knew you're melting in her arms, it almost brought the tears out of you, as if her touch is enough the lift the burden you've been feeling.

Natasha feels like home.

You try not to think anything about the affection she just gave, but damn, you think you'd go batshit crazy if you won't get to experience this again.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Let's be clear here, you've had a crush on Natasha while she's still Natalie, then as soon as Fury revealed that she is some secret agent, you were so amazed that you started liking her, though she didn't contact after that.

You weren't part of the Avengers initiative, but you did join them in the battle of Sokovia, but she and Banner have a thing going on, so you've decided to set those feelings aside. Which you successfully did for a few months, and after Bruce flying who knows where maybe you can make a move?

So you did, you would jokingly flirt around Natasha, and your father would give a questioning look then you slowly back away, but you were also a great friend to Nat, it's just that you can't seem to get all romantic with Natasha.

Just as much of a playboy your father is, that's all his, you suck at this type of thing, so Nat probably thought you're just a caring and affectionate person.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You gently pull away from Natasha's grasp, and she looks at you with her emerald eyes. "Better?" She asked, placing a hand on your cheek softly caressing your skin. "Much better, thank you." She smiled with your answer, the next thing you know is that you're way too close to her, and you're looking at her plump lips.

This would be a perfect time to make a move.

You hold the back of her hand that is on your cheek, slowly closing in, and Natasha is leaning closer, so near that you could feel each other breathing, just when your lips were about to touch hers... the power died.

Nat cleared her throat and awkwardly moving away, removing her hand away from you and she stood up. "I'm just going to check the power generator." She says before going outside.

Her face turned red as soon as she was out of your sight, she got way too vulnerable with you, she almost kissed you but she sure knows she's going to like it but no, not at a time like this.

She tried to get the power back on, only to find that there's no more fuel in the generator, she came back inside finding you eating ice cream in the corner, and probably waiting for her to come back.

"I'm going to a gas station, do you want to come with me?" She asked, you nodded before getting off your ass and bringing yourself into her car, there's this awkward tension between the two of you, and as soon as she started driving, the silence swallowed the two of you.

"Can I turn the radio on?" You asked her, she simply nodded while eyes fixated on the road, you played the radio, and Sia's Cheap Thrills came on. "Damn, even here? When is this song going to die?" You commented.

Natasha taps her fingers on the steering wheel according to the beats, despite hearing the song over and over whenever you would turn on the radio, you still liked it.

Midway through the song, you felt chills on your body, and as soon as you look at the window beside you, suddenly you see an RPG heading towards the car.

"Nat—" Before she could react it has already hit the car causing an explosion, now the vehicle is hanging on the edge of the bridge, and with one wrong move it'll head straight down to the water. "Ooh, fuck that hurts." Hissing as you try to collect yourself and trying to fight the headache it caused.

Natasha on the other hand is in pain and boy, she's mad. "I'm pretty sure Ross has no jurisdiction here, and you should know that I'm a better shot when I'm pissed off," Nat spoke before firing few bullets at the person, you look at her and biting your lip, finding her hot.

"Wow, that's hot..." You spoke under your breath but Natasha heard, glaring at you. "Really? At a time like this?" She says, before heading out of the car when you tried to get out Nat stopped you. "How long can you hold your breath?" She asked. "Last time I beat Sam it was a good 4 minutes and a half."

"As soon as this psycho comes close enough, I'll push you into the water, it's not after us." She says you look at her as if she's speaking lies. "Nat, I'm not leaving you here–" before you could protest, you felt her lips against yours it was quick but you know damn well, that Natasha kissed you.

"I'll meet you down there, I promise." She says before a shield comes charging towards her, and managed to avoid it, yet it hit the car, now you're falling off the bridge and you suddenly noticed a small case on her hand.

You quickly got out of the car before it could hit the water, then you swam heading to safety where the one who ambushed wouldn't see you.

Closing your eyes hoping that Nat would come back to you in one piece, there's no way you'll let her die after kissing you, of course, you wanted to fight but your body just wouldn't.

You can't risk losing Natasha now.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Next Part: To Remember

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel universe #tony stark #iron man #fem!reader #fem!stark!reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!stark!reader

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f1shbonez · 6 months ago

Note

The big vastayan sank towards her, blocking out the shape of the door and the owner of the footsteps behind him.

"Am fucking helping,” The venom of Scar’s comment was easier to digest than his words. Something bad was going to happen, Jinx was sure of it.

A hand coiled around her knee to pin it with a broad, clawed palm. The contact wrenched a gasp from Jinx, who twisted her face away, feeling the room lurch once more with the sudden movement.

Not looking at the hand that inspected and disturbed the worst of her injury granted it an alien kind of distance, as though every searing touch came through some sort of barrier before fully registering. For once, the distraction that her nausea offered was almost welcome.

A particularly painful movement tethered Jinx to reality with a shuddering breath. Tears pooled in her eyes as she searched for Ekko behind the intruder. This guy was hurting her! Why was he hurting her?

Ekko, make him stop…

She couldn’t find the words to make Ekko understand. He had to understand. She needed him to. Watery eyes found the shape over Scar’s shoulder, pleading with Powder’s face.

"Going septic, could lose the leg."

"Shit. Can you try anyway?"

Her head was pounding so loud she could hardly make out what they were saying.

Losing legs… Did that mean she got to die too, or could she get a cool robot leg to kick people with?

Why was Ekko just standing there, anyway? The only resistance to the great hulking hand pinning Jinx down to torture her was the faint involuntary tremble running through her. She hadn’t hurt anyone since Ekko brought her here. They couldn’t help her. They wouldn’t. It wasn’t like Ekko or his grudge-wielding accomplice were capable of offering a shred of the comfort she craved. She wouldn’t find it here. She didn’t deserve it, anyway.

Silco…

Vi…

Gone gone gone.

Maybe soon she’d be gone too…

"Stay still if you want to live."

It took more concentration than Jinx liked to know what he was saying. Bad things usually followed whenever Big Guy had something to say. There was no fight here. Not right now. Not like this. What was the point, anyway? Like a puppet with all of her strings cut, Jinx remained slumped, unnervingly still. Unkempt braids trailed across the floor, untouched since her arrival. Untouched since Silco had last coaxed them into a neat and orderly fashion.

Detached blue eyes drifted back to the vastayan.

Do what you want.

Even the worst kicks, punches and poisons the Firelights could offer paled in comparison to everything else she’d endured. Would they leave her alone after, at least?

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

It hurt less when her mind went here.

Swallowing thickly, Jinx finally found words. She hardly recognised the sound of it now, hoarse and tired, just as much a surrender as her lack of fight. Talk about pathetic. Silco would be disappointed. Vi would be disappointed.

“...Nobody wants that.” Jinx croaked.

"How long have you been sitting there?" (@vastayan--vigilante)

It was impossible to sleep.

Not a problem that was unfamiliar to Jinx, but in these circumstances, it was. Bouts of sleeplessness usually came with a racing mind, great productivity and energy. This wasn’t like that at all. She’d abandoned her bunk hours ago, trembling and flushed from a raging fever. Walking around hurt too much. Pushing through the pain to pace and search the faces through the window had sapped every hint of colour from her cheeks, leaving nothing but ashen, clammy skin behind.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d spent hunched over herself on the rough wooden floorboards, fingers restlessly picking at the dried blood in her bandages. The occasional throb of pain that came with disturbing the wound was the only thing easing the rigid edges of her shoulders. Rip, hold, breathe. Rip, hold, breathe. Rip. Hold. Breathe. Steady breaths fell in line with the stinging sensation. The pain offered a morbid kind of comfort. With pain, came the reminder that she was here. Still alive. It was the one grounding constant in her blurry reality.

Intermittent memories of Silco bled into Jinx’s thoughts, swelling like the ebb and flow of an unkempt tide. The absence of him was so sudden. So painful. It felt as though all of the years spent by his side- the years of growing into something more than the weak, snivelling child he’d found her as- were entirely gone with him. Was that what had happened? Had Silco died and taken Jinx with him? Right now, it kinda felt like it.

Just like the day they’d met, she was left crying like a small child in the dirt. Weak.

Ŵ̴̗͍̓͜é̵͇á̷̢̘ḳ̴͠.̵͈̈̏ ̵̝̦̑͝͠w̶͙̼̯̾̌̈́E̶͔͖̱͆â̵͍̮͉͠K̵̟̃̀.̶̦͂͐ ̷̠̀̓W̷̰̪̐͌͜Ẽ̶̫̎A̵͇̕͝K̸͇̳̂̄̕!̸̯̚ Mylo’s voice hissed and jeered in the dark, earning a hiccup of a sob as Jinx folded in on herself to shut him out.

Another ugly wave of nausea mingled with the tightness in her throat, needling at the shaky remnants of her composure until Jinx crumbled into a series of hitched breaths and moans. This felt really bad. Had she ever been hurt like this before? Hurt….sick…upset…there had always been someone. Vi and Silco always knew how to bring comfort when she felt like this. Had she ever had no one before?

G̴͉̀̓e̸̝̚t̶͉͔́ ̶̪̄a̸̞͋̕ ̸̳͘g̷̟̔̈́r̶̛̫͘i̴̡͚̐̕p̵̧̐̌.̸͙̉ ̴̤͛̊Ḯ̶̩t̵͖͈͛̚'̴̼̯̂s̶͙̒͊ ̷͕̏n̶̥̱̑͠o̴͉̐͝t̴̗̱̔ ̸̩͝l̸͚̅i̸̢͗͘k̵̝̗̐́é̶̥͐ ̴͖͂y̴̘̑ȯ̷͚͕u̵̞̚ͅ ̵͕̗̀͘d̵̞̥̽̈́ó̵͜n̴̛̫̘͆'̶͕͇͋t̷̳̆ ̷̧̬̎d̷̻̃̓ẹ̷͋s̵̼̱̄̄e̶͎͊̄r̶͖̖̓v̶̬̓̔e̵̜͖͂̍ ̴̪͊i̸̳̒t̶̞̑̔.̷̘͙͑̆

The shadows and ghosts were louder now. Louder than ever. Laughing and roaring and babbling, all of them, clustering around her misery like a swarm of hungry leeches. From amongst them, another shadow lurched into the frame of her vision. C’mon…didn’t her demons know it was already a full house? Slowly, Jinx squinted in the direction of the intrusion, before realising the blinding frame of light surrounding it.

Oh.

…How long had the door been open?

The big hulking mute of a vastayan filled the entryway, assessing her with a stare that made Jinx desperately miss her pistol. Moving hurt terribly, but Jinx fought the discomfort just enough to crane her head to one side, searching for the familiar shape of Ekko. What was this supposed to be? Sending in the big guns when she felt so bad was kinda overkill. Did she do something wrong? Had they all made up their minds already?

The unsteady, hitched breaths of lingering upset continued, but the emotion no longer reached Jinx’s eyes from where she sat, hunched over herself.

“How long have you been sitting there?” A deep rumble spoke over the monsters, silencing them.

There was a long pause as the words sank in, permeating the room along with the light before Jinx’s gaze trailed into the space between them in a vague acknowledgment of the new presence.

Did you…say that?

Big guy never said anything. She'd almost started to believe he couldn't talk. What a stupid time for him to start, Jinx thought. She didn’t feel like speaking.

The smallest shrug came as a response, and with it, Jinx gingerly drew her knees closer to her chest, gritting her teeth against the discomfort for the reward of appearing just a little smaller. The hot sweats had subsided, but the tell-tale ache of approaching shivers was already making the hair on the back of Jinx’s neck prickle uncomfortably.

Had Ekko sent him? Or was his second in command coming in to do the dirty work when his back was turned? Either way, the vastayan wasn’t a welcome sight.

As the shadow filled a greater deal of the space between them, Jinx cringed away, tucking her chin into the crook of her arm. He was holding something. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. It didn’t look like a weapon. What was that? An ointment? A vial of medicine? Yeah right. Did they think she’d let them poison her all neat and easy? That stuff could stay away, and far.

He’s gonna h̶u̷r̷t̸ ̴y̸o̵u̷.̷ ̵

You r̴̳̩̽ë̸̝́m̶̛̹e̶̳̠̎͋m̶̥̜͂͆b̷̡̗͐e̷̠͛̂r̵͓͂ him.

That’s why they sent him.

That’s why E̴̡̓k̸̖͐k̴͚̣̃̃o̷̡͒͠’̶̡̲̃͌s̸͉͗ not here.

This guy’s about to do him a ̷̤͖͓̉̀̎f̵̼̯̑a̸͕͕͉͐v̷͙̍̓õ̴͖̦ů̵̡̮̥́́r̶̭̱̅.̵̦͐ͅ

“...No.”The word was entirely detached, barely audible through the dissociative haze clouding her mind.

He is. You k̴͚͛̀ṅ̷̮̩o̵͕̖͘w̴̹̓ it.

“Stop.” A hint of desperation bled into Jinx’s tone.

What’s wrong? S̵̠̩̽c̷̼̆̀a̶̧̗̎r̴̾͜ë̵̼d̴̜͑?̸̘̇

“...You’re not helping.”

#arcane rp #firelight au #jinx rp #muse: jinx!#timebomb rp

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xxlost-cityxx · 3 years ago

Text

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Top!Kirishima Eijirou, Bottom!Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: camming(Bakugou's a camboy), rough anal sex, anal fingering, choking, spanking, begging, crying, overstimulation, praising, degrading, enthusiastic consent

Summary: Bakugou's famous for being in the top 3 best doms for a camboy porn site, but as he tries to out rank an up and rising couple, his fans get to see the moment he realises he's a submissive bottom

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Katsuk has been a camboy for a little over 2 years now, starting right off the bat once he graduated high school. As he was 18 and living on his own and with a low paying job, he quickly realized he needed another source of income to live even slightly comfortably in today's world. Then came a random ad that just so happened to catch his eye, a porn site catching a lot of popularity, a few cam stars seeming to live a life of luxury from simply filming themselves for anyone to see.

Katsuki had to try it out.

He's had his fair share of horny old men groping him out in public, so why not get paid for them to watch him instead?

That plan was one of his best ideas yet. He rose to fame so quickly he choked on water after posting his 4th video ever, seeing that his rough, aggressive attitude turned a lot of people on. A lot meant 14,000 at the time. A month into camming and he was making over 54,000 yen a week! And now, with nearly 500,000 perverts at his mercy, it was much more. He started live streaming last year, and it went amazing. Until a new couple joined the camming business. Suddenly 'loving boyfriend rails his curvy brown haired slut' was all anyone wanted to see. This broccoli headed bitch stole half the damn site from almost every other cammer out there!

So there was only one thing Katsuki could do now.

He had to fuck someone on one of his streams.

He blew up the first time he fucked a flesh light, degrading the inanimate object like no tomorrow, easily being labeled one of the best doms out there. So the only way to get back on top was to dom a real person.

But he wasn't going to fuck one of his weird ass fans, god no. He needed to find someone close to him who would keep their mouth shut.

After brainstorming and browsing the most popular porn categories, he got an idea. The best way to narrow down his options for what type of person he'd need is by his audience. He quickly went to his profile insights, his eyes narrowing as over 60% were females. He quickly smirked, easily going back to the most popular categories and filtering out what he didn't want to do and what his audience wouldn't be into. And the one that came out ontop, was gay shit. Katsuki was going to dom a guy. And if it meant coming out on top over all the useless cammers, he'd fuck the shit out of a twink.

"Sorry man, I would've considered it back when we first graduated, but Hitoshi and Kyo would rather stab you than let me take your dick up my ass." Denki said, casually sighing and taking a sip of his coffee. The elders around the coffee shop gasped, giving nasty side eyes which Katsuki couldn't care less about. "What!?" He nearly shouted, Sero and Mina covering their mouths to prevent any laughter from coming out to the point their faces were turning red.

"Why not ask Sero-" "-Oh hell no! I'm not letting Katsudon fuck me on camera!" Sero shouted, ignoring Bakugou's glare from calling him Katsudon.

"You really need to fuck a guy for this? Why not stick to your usual content? No.2 is better than much else, right?" "Hell no! I'm the best and I'm going to prove I'm the fuckin' best! Denki's the only twink I know, so help me find another!" Katsuki yelled, a few families being rushed out of the shop.

After going through everyone that fit Bakugou's qualifications. They had nothing. Bakugou was ready to tear someone's head off at this point. After doing so much research, he didn't have the final piece.

"Hey Mina, you're a chick. What do you suggest 'suki do?" Denki sighed, folding in on himself. "I mean, we do love our gay shit man." He said in an inhale. "But why not get fucked instead? We know way more doms than we do twinks." She said, tilting her head. "Oh- Hell no!" Bakugou shouted, Sero wincing. "I'm the best fuckin' dom on this shitting porno site and I'm going to prove it!" "Sounds like a bratty bottom to me." Sero mumbled.

After more shouting and arguing. Kirishima finally arrived. "Sorry, my last client had a lot of knots in their back and thighs! Took a lot longer than I expected." He said with his happy smile, still wearing his scrubs and smelling like coconut oil. "Eiji~! Gimme a deep tissue massage!" Denki whined, rushing over and jumping face first into the bed. "He just gave massages all day dude, give him a break.." Sero mumbled, shaking his head.

And it was like a light bulb. His brain flashing to massage porn intro's being in the top 100 categories. "Kirishim!" Bakugou shouted firmly, standing up straight. Kiri froze, slowly turning to look at him with fearful eyes. "Y-Yes…?" "Let me fuck you for my cam stream." And it went dead silent.

And that's how they're here. Setting up the ring lights, almond oil on the shelves and a small white towel for Bakugou to cover his ass with. The plan was that Eijirou would get handsy during the massage and Katsuki would turn around and start domming him. Kirishima is bigger than Bakugou in the height and muscle department, but that was only going to make the plot better. Eijrou definitely wasn't telling him something. After hesitating to agree in the first place, and only after Bakugou promised a share of the money, Kirishima was just so...unnatural at this situation, his movements starting off as more dominating until he took it down to a submissive level.

Katsuki started the live, giving his quickly joining fans a cocky smirk before standing up, walking back and laying down on the black table.

The comments were filled with surprise and questions as to who the red haired hulk was beside the table, but they went unanswered.

Kirishima grabbed the bottle of almond oil, pouring some into his hands and quickly starting on Katsuki's thighs, gently rubbing into the muscles with experienced ease.

Bakugou's eyes widened at the feeling, his core already getting hot with desire. And as Kirishima's fingers went under the towel to his inner thighs, he fought a gasp. Comments filled with perverted comments telling the redhead to get more handsy and to give the blond a hand job with all the oil.

But as Eijirou put a knee on the table and nearly climbed over Katsuki to perfectly get his back, Katsuki started panting at the feeling. It wasn't the massage that was getting him. It was the feeling of Eijirou's crotch rubbing against the thin towel, his cock slightly hard underneath his black scrubs.

As it was about time for the script to move onto Katsuki domming Kirishima, Bakugou was stifling whimpers of shock and embarrassment. His cock aching for him to fuck Kirishima…..actually. His body was aching to be fucked by Kirishima.

As Katsuki was turned around, His eyes were teary, his fans taking quick, shocked notice and flooding the comments with surprise, degrading, perverted insults about how he looked like a twink instead.

Kirishima's eyes slightly widened at the sight, and as Bakugou swallowed his embarrassment and shock, he focused on his arousal and his own perverse desires. "F-Fuck me….instead.." He whispered, his eyes slightly squinting and blurring with tears.

Before he knew it, Eijirou was leaning over top of him with a slick hand around his neck. Bakugou couldn't help but moan at the pressure, his stream struggling to keep up with the influx of viewers and comments about the top 3 best doms getting put in his place by a rando.

Bakugou's mind wasn't on the donations anymore, not on the follower count or his ranking at this point. He was gasping for air as Kirishima roughly kissed and bit at his body, keeping an iron grip on Katsuki's neck. "Oh fuck yes- Was hoping to god I would be able to fuck your tight ass one day-!" Kirishima breathed against his skin, licking up his nipple to his jaw and nipping at him.

He suddenly ripped himself off the blonde, walking over to the camera and grabbing it, making a winky face at the viewers as he moved the camera to get a better view of Bakugou teary eyed, flushed and a line of red, darkening hickies and bites.

He got back on the table, roughly gripping Katsuki's thighs and harshly pushing them apart, an action that would probably make some other guy pull a muscle. He wrapped his arms around his spread thighs, pulling his hips up to meet his crotch, the pale skin against his dark black scrubs finally letting Bakugou and the viewers know what the newbie was packing, and it was a lot.

"H-Holy fuck-" Bakugou whispered out as his towel was ripped off of him, oil being grabbed off the table and the cap popped open. Kirishima paused, looking up to Bakugou, a silent plea for last minute permission. Katsuki's red eyes met crimson, and he swiftly nodded his head, accidentally earning more donations from the show of submission.

Eijirou lathered his fingers in oil, tracing the blond's pink hole carefully, giving the camera another adjustment so the viewers could see his perfect view as well; a red faced, teary eyed dom with his tight ass being slicked up so nicely.

The oil made Katsuki's muscle relax easily, becoming soft under the thick tanned finger, and as he swiftly plunged in the singular finger, Katsuki gasped with shock, his eyes going wide at the foregin feeling.

Kirishima slowly pumped his finger, adding slightly more oil every time his muscle got a bit too tight, slipping in more fingers every time his rim was soft. It felt like such a short amount of time between preparing to dom his best friend to being finger fucked by him. Eijirou's forearm had veins slightly protruding as he slammed his fingers into his friend at a pace that made vibrators look pathetic. Katsuki's pretty little back was arched so nicely, his muscles flexing and his toes curling, tears falling from his eyes as moan after moan was ripped from him.

"P-Please! I can't! I can't take it anymore!" He finally sobbed, shaking his head at the man's brutal pace, purposely avoiding his prostate after hitting it every couple times.

Kirishima smirked, slowly sliding his fingers out only to slide his thumbs inside, stretching the soft muscle as he pleased, showing off the blond's perfectly hot pink insides, his swollen rim slick and twitching. "So nice and pretty for me, hm? You wanna take my fat cock for the first time? Expose how much of a slut you are for cock? For my cock?" Kirishima said seductively, moving the camera again.

Katsuki nodded his head rapidly, his eyes glued to the hard to see bulge under his black scrubs. "Use your words, baby." Eijirou said firmly, palming himself. "Y-Yes- I want it-! I w-want your fat cock-!" He said, face flushing with embarrassment again. "Good boy~" He cooed, finally grabbing the hem of his pants and pulling them down.

It was almost like he struggled to pull the front down far enough, his cock just kept following, and once it finally got over his tip, his penis sprung up to lightly slap against his stomach before it weighed itself down. The camera got Bakugou's surprise and shock perfectly, the comments finally going quiet, almost as if everyone had to take in what they were seeing as well.

Kirishima grabbed the base of his cock, lifting it and letting it slap against Bakugou's hole, earning a slightly muffled whimper from the blond. He gently moved his hips, letting his cock slide smoothly against his hole, his tip teasing the smaller's balls. The comments were filled with encouragement and orders to get on with it.

Kirishima chuckled darkly, letting his tip catch on the rim, slowly pushing in. Bakugou's eyebrows furrowed before his mouth dropped and eyes widened with the pressure. He let out a guttural moan, his legs starting to shake.

As Eijirou bottomed out with a groan, Katsuki was shaking and whimpering, his own well endowed cock red and dripping precome.

The redhead pulled out before slamming back in, the blond shooting up with shock only to be met with a hand on his neck again, pinning him down as the Kirishima harshly forced his way between Bakugou's legs even more, only giving the blond a couple seconds to adjust before he started snapping his hips into the smaller man's ass. Bakugou took in one breath of air before lewd moans poured from him, his voice cracking every time his skin was slapped with another brutal thrust.

"Agh- P-Please-!" Katsuki nearly screamed out, Eijirou grabbing the back of his knees and pressing them back to meet his shoulders, effectively putting him in a mating press. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you fucking want!" Eijirou growled out, groaning as Katsuki's tight, slicked up boy cunt tried to milk him, pulsing and sucking him in with every movement. "I-I want it harder! Please- Please fuck me harder! Give me more!" Bakugou nearly sobbed, looking at where their bodies were connected with teary wide eyes. "Such a fuckin' slut-! Making all these people think you were a fucking dom, only to start begging for the first fat cock you see! Want it harder? Wanna feel my fat dick in you for days?" He growled, eagerly moving to grab Katsuki's ankles and awkwardly spreading them over Katsuki's head before turning him, ripping his cock out of his pillowy ass and nearly picking the blond up by his ass, grabbing the nape of his neck and forcing him on his knees with his head down.

He slammed back in, the blond nearly screaming once again as he set another brutal pace. "Y-Yes! Please, god yes! Fuck me more! Don't stop!" Katsuki sobbed, drool and tears staining his lewd face. "Wouldn't fucking dream of it! You love having your little boy cunt fucked, huh? Love how I fucking ruin you on this dick?" Kirishima growled, slapping a hand down on his fat ass, groaning loudly at the sight of all the excess muscle and fat jiggle even more.

Katsuki's ass slapped against Eijirou's abs every time he slammed into the boy, his back muscles looking so pretty at this angle.

"Oh shit- I'm gonna cum! Please make me cum! Don't fucking stop~!" Bakugou moaned, arching his back and lifting his ass up higher so Eijirou could hit his prostate at the best angle. "Haven't even touched your cock and you're gonna cum? Fucking do it! Cum on this cock, make it yours and I'll fuck you every day!" Kirishima promised, sharpening his thrusts to where all Bakugou could do is claw at the padded table and scream, staring into the camera as his orgasm was building higher and higher.

"I- Fuck! I'm fucking cummin'!" Bakugou screamed, his body shaking under Kirishima as his thrusts went unbroken, hurtling Katsuki into overstimulation. He started screaming for relief, but as Kirishima planted his hands into the curvature of Bakugou's spine, he started thrusting purely for his own relief. Groaning and growling above a sobbing Katsuki. "S-Stop! I can't! Slow down~ Please!" Katsuki begged, his cock trying to harden again. His body was on fire, every nerve fried with pleasure he'd never experienced, and Katsuki knew he was addicted.

"Almost fuckin' there! Gonna cum in your ass- Claim you, make you mine!" Eijirou groaned out, his balls drawing up tight as his own climax ripped through him, filling up the man's stomach with his cum.

He slowly pulled out, Katsuki in the same position even after Eijirou let go of him. He grabbed the camera, pointing it at Bakugou's gaping and cum filled hole, watching how he pulsed against nothing, forcing the cum to leak out of him despite his angle.

Not only did Katsuki make absolute bank while taking monster cock like a slut, he took the No.1 spot by over a thousand followers and ratings.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines #kirishima #kirishima eijiro #kiribaku #kiribaku thirst #kiribaku smut #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #camboy!bakugou #mha thirst #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha thirst

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

Text

Young and Beautiful - Steve Rogers smut

The one where you were supposed to be a one-night stand, but Steve won't let that happen

Warnings: smut, and a little bit of angst.

A/N: this was our first ever patreon-voted fic, chosen for the month of May! My patreons at the $3 tier get to send me their ideas once a month and two of them end up being voted so I can write one of them each month. June’s fic is the one where Ransom needs to get a sugar mommy, and if you want to suggest a story for our July’s fic, please consider becoming a patreon! Thank you to my darling @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for reading this over for me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first time wasn’t a mistake, I could admit to that. Steve had been coming to the same bar where I worked for almost a year now. I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew - he was hard to miss. But I think what he liked about our run-down place is that no one seemed to care about Captain America and the things he did when he didn’t have a bottle of beer in his hand.

Over here, he was just Steve. And Steve tipped well and drank a lot - I was sure he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how many beers I served him, but he never stopped asking me for more.

So, needless to say, he was adored. Adored by my boss, who was always around to keep watch of his customers and keep them in line. Adored by Luke, who guarded the entrance, for all the nights Steve helped him get rid of men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And adored by all the waitresses, for precisely the same reason - and because I always shared my tips with all of them.

Even the kitchen staff adored Steve. Besides, it’s not like he was hard on the eye - all the girls (customers and staff) were constantly fawning over him, but he was nothing short of a gentleman, always.

Actually, he seemed to avoid the members of the opposite sex as best as he could, clearly not interested in whatever it was that they planned to possibly get to do with him. Well, except for me.

He never avoided me. I always figured it was because I was the guardian of the alcohol - we’d even joke about it sometimes, when he came to sit by the bar after politely declining someone’s advances.

“It’s just hard to understand how to date nowadays,” he commented one day after a pretty girl actually asked him out on a date right in front of me, but he refused. I shrugged as I wiped the counter, thinking if there was any advice I could give him.

“It really isn’t that hard. You go out to dinner, walk her home and when you step in front of her door, you ask her for some coffee. She’ll usually do it herself, but if you want to show your interest…” His frown was amusing, to say the least, but I held back my laughter so he wouldn’t be even more uncomfortable.

“A coffee?” Giggling, I nodded. “Before bed? But…”

“It’s a metaphor, Steve. A lady can’t very well invite you into her sheets, now can she?” He blushed three different shades of red when I winked, another giggle escaping. “I mean, she can, but we like to keep some things unsaid - innuendos can be very sexy.”

Two months had passed and if Steve made use of my lessons, I wouldn’t know. He never brought anyone to the bar and never left with any lady who approached him either.

“What can I get ya, Steve?” I’d always ask. I’d never once called him Cap or anything other than the name he used to introduce himself - even though I obviously knew who he was. He always took his time before answering my questions, even if they required a simple yes or no, which amused me to no end.

For a while, I actually believed a gun or one of the buildings the Hulk had undoubtedly thrown in his direction had left him with a difficulty of hearing. But then after my first question, he never seemed to have any problem understanding me at all.

“Just a beer,” he’d say, a small, soft smile as he tried not to stare too much at me, fingers tapping on the counter while I got his order. I appreciated his effort not to make me uncomfortable - I knew he’d seen how often men did that to me. I had no doubt that was why he only ever looked me in the eye from under those huge eyelashes of his.

“There you go.” Always the same routine, we never once deviated from it. Until one night when I was supposed to close the bar and he heard my boss instructing me to be careful.

“There’s been a lot of robberies this late at night. Make sure you lock everything up properly.” I saluted in jest, making the old man laugh and shake his head at me. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

There were only a handful of customers - Steve included, and he was the only one by the bar, so I threw him a quick smile as I wiped the glasses and started to clean the counter.

“Can I get you anything else?” I offered, but he only grimaced in response, leaving me confused. “Is there something wrong?” He stared directly at me without answering for a while before he was able to snap out of whatever it was that had frozen him.

“You’re supposed to leave by yourself at two in the morning?” I chuckled lightly at his concern, avoiding his gaze so he wouldn’t see how it warmed my heart that he’d be preoccupied over me, someone that was a little more than a stranger to him.

“It’s part of the job,” I reassured him. “Well, usually it’s part of Luke’s job. But whenever he has to leave early, it’s my duty to fill in for him.” He nodded, but didn’t make any movement towards leaving. Usually, he would be gone by now, but it wasn’t that extraordinary for him to stay until the hour I left.

This was the first time he stayed this long though, considering I wasn’t the one responsible for closing the bar and I only realized it when I looked around and noticed we were the last two people left in the room.

“Planning on drinking much more?” I joked, trying to gauge if he was going to be much longer, but he seemed startled by my question, looking around to verify the same thing I’d just noticed.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” I smiled, thankful that he was conscious and wouldn’t force me to stay even longer after my shift had finished. “I just figured I could walk you home. It is pretty late, after all.”

My heart warmed up at how sweet and thoughtful this man was. He had no reason to wait for me to finish my job just to walk me home, yet here he was. “Thank you, Steve,” I acknowledged, sending him a grateful grin. “Let me just check the bathrooms real quick. I’ll grab my purse and we can leave.”

He nodded, watching me do as I said and in no time at all we took off together in the direction of my apartment. I wasn’t worried about making small talk with him on the way there - I knew he was a good conversationalist from all the times he had stayed by the bar instead of taking his beer to a table, and I adored the stories he told of his missions just as much as I appreciated how he genuinely cared about what I had to say.

The walk to my place seemed shorter than ever before, and in a few minutes we were standing in front of my door as I searched for my keys in my bag.

“C-Can I…” He murmured as I looked for it, glancing up at him and smiling to signal he should continue even though I couldn’t give him my full attention at that moment. “Would you… Do you have some coffee?”

I was so shocked that my head whipped up to stare at him, eyes wide and unbelieving. Did Steve… Did he… Did he want to have sex with me? “I mean… in your apartment, do you have some coffee in your apartment?”

The thought was so extraordinary that the second I realized his intentions, a fire of desire warmed my lower belly, not because he was Captain America, but because he was an attractive and sweet guy that was way out of my league and I couldn’t believe he was into me.

He kept talking as I kept blinking at him, trying to process what was going on. “’Cause I’d really like to have some coffee… with you… If you want some too…”

His voice got smaller the longer it took for me to answer him, until it disappeared completely and he cleared his throat. “Nevermind.” He was about to turn around and make a run for it, I was sure, but I was able to grasp his wrist just in time, signalling him to stop because I had something to say.

“I would love to make you some coffee, Steve.”

So yeah, the first time wasn’t a mistake. He was way too fucking sweet and I got hot just by seeing how nervous he was to ask me for some “coffee”, incredulous that I was capable of affecting this giant man that much.

So as soon as we were in my apartment, I tied up my hair with the little hair tie I always kept on my wrist during work and got on my knees for him.

And I cherished every fucking second of it.

The way his mouth fell open in a gasp when I reached for his jeans, the little moans he let out as I licked his member… I couldn’t close my eyes, too transfixed by his expressions to miss anything.

The way he pulled me by my hair to devour my mouth, hands so eager to undress me that he ended up ripping my blouse, but it only made me giggle.

The way his groan sounded almost painful when he picked me up, shoved me against the door and penetrated me, filling me so beautifully I hit my head back against the wood and didn’t even notice it.

He got me to cum without almost no preparation, just from the thrill of it all, the stretch of his member inside of me. When I urged him to cum in my pussy, the look on his eyes was enough to get me to cum again, milking him dry as he emptied himself with a growl, forehead dropping against mine while he tried to catch his breath.

I was expecting him to leave immediately or maybe stay for an actual coffee. I wasn’t expecting him to pull out, drop to his knees and start lapping his cum from inside of me, eyes as focused on mine as I had been for him only minutes before.

Burying my fingers in his short locks, I tried to keep myself up despite the way my legs trembled, but Steve just adjusted them so they’d be over his shoulders and held me up with his face buried in me.

I had never cum so many times in a row. But then again, I had never had a man eat his own cum out of me.

I fully intended it to be a one time thing, and that was my plan. I thanked him for eating me out, made him some coffee, giggled at his stories about his friends and for a second it almost looked like we were back at the bar, only the counter was my kitchen table and I was allowed to sit on the other side.

He didn’t ask to stay the evening and I breathed a sigh of relief after I closed the door behind him, ignoring the slight empty feeling that momentarily hit me. This is what I wanted, I reminded myself, and by acting the way I expected him to, he had made it clear that he understood the rules of the dating world he claimed to know so little of.

This was a one time deal. Nothing more.

But then the first night we saw each other at the bar again, it was when he burst through the door to punch some guy who came in just as I was closing, trying to steal the money we had in the vault. I was so fucking relieved to see his face that all I could do was tremble in his arms after the police came to get the robber, and of course I couldn’t let him go after that.

He walked me home and I didn’t even ask anything, just stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, using my grip on his shirt to pull him in as he helped me with my clothes.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” He moaned, and perhaps that should have been my first sign, the one that alerted me to stop what I was doing and not make this into a mistake I couldn’t take back.

He hadn’t talked the last time. He had never complimented me before.

“God, your ass…” He groaned as he palmed it, helping me over his lap when he took a seat on my couch, until I could fuse the both of us and ride us to hysteria.

But I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind because it felt so fucking good to be desired by him, to have him inside of me, cumming deep into my pussy only to eat it all out of me again.

It didn’t take long for me to learn about the errors of my way, though. In fact, it started the very next day, when he walked into the bar grinning from ear to ear and made a beeline in my direction.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and my eyes went wide as two saucers, especially when I saw him lean over the counter like he intended to peck my lips.

“Hello, Captain.” I quickly turned my back to him, facing the shelves of liquor to pretend that I was looking for something. My heart sank to my stomach as I took in what was happening, what I had just done in my effort to put some distance between us as if last night had never happened. “Can I get you anything?”

The time it took for him to answer almost had me looking at him from over my shoulder, but I restrained myself. “Yeah, you,” he finally said, and I breathed out in surprise. “Why are you acting this way?”

I panicked for a few seconds, reaching up for an already clean glass to attack it with my rag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to reassure the both of us, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

But I could see his massive body by the end of the counter from the corner of my eyes, where he always sat, and I saw him tap the old battered wood with his fingers - fingers he had used to spread me open for his tongue to reach - as he thought.

I hoped he would let it go. I hoped he would not.

“Fine,” he relented, and I froze, uncertain of what he meant. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” My head snapped up just in time to watch him leave, and he didn’t even look over his shoulder.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. He needed some time to get over whatever the hell it was that he thought he was feeling and tomorrow things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

He came back with flowers the next day, and I didn’t have any reasonable excuse not to accept it. He didn’t push for anything, just gave me the bouquet before asking for his usual drink. And then he proceeded to stay the entire evening right there, where he always sat, carefully watching my every move.

For the first time in a while, I broke two glasses in a single evening.

The day after that, he came with a box of chocolates. I couldn’t hide the smile because they were my favorite - I didn’t know how he knew it until he reminded me.

“You told me you liked them right when I started coming to this place.” His eyes were so heavy with a sad feeling that I couldn’t recognize that I had to avert my gaze. It messed with my heartbeat, it left my throat feeling dry.

“Thanks, Captain,” I softly acknowledged it, and I saw the way his grip on the box tightened. I saw it in the way it was slightly crumpled when I took it from his hands, but he didn’t say a word.

There was only so much that he could take, though. And I knew that. It didn’t help that my boss had caught onto his intentions and started to push me to go out on a date with him.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance?” He’d incite, much to Steve’s utter glee.

“Yeah, Y/N. Why don’t you go out with me?” Steve urged, and although he never asked when my boss wasn’t around to initiate the teasing, I knew he wondered.

And the truth was that I wondered about it too. Because everything was screwed up now. When I gave him his beer and our fingers brushed, mine were left tingling. When I looked his way to find his gaze already on me, I shivered.

So yes, the second time was undeniably a mistake, but there wouldn’t be a third time. I’d make sure of it.

Steve’s P.O.V.

I was tired of waiting. I knew I had wanted her since the first time I laid my eyes on her, when I decided to stop at this rundown bar in the hopes of one night of crappy beer without being bothered by anyone asking for autographs or pictures.

I’d come here almost every night when I could escape the tower to watch her work, slowly getting her to warm up to me, and I fell for her personality in the process.

The way she clearly saw me as Steve, and not my title.

The way she always laughed at my stories and shared what had happened in the previous nights with the raucous customers.

The way she seemed to care about everyone and everything that came into contact with her.

So what started as desire became something deeper and for the first time since I was unfrozen, I found myself eager to understand what dating in this new century was like. I asked Sam for advice, and even Tony for any tips he could give me, but their general ideas didn’t matter to me when all I wanted was one single person.

Her.

So I asked her for her thoughts on the matter and was surprised with myself when I put them into practice. I was even more surprised when she accepted my advances and welcomed me into her embrace.

I was sure I’d never been happier than that evening.

But to have her pretend nothing had happened and even worse - treat me like a stranger after I had learned the taste of her skin? Nothing hurt deeper than that.

And still, I understood. I realized then that she hadn’t seen the situation the way that I had. She had thought all I wanted was a one-night deal - well, two-night deal - because I had never shown her anything to make her think differently.

So I set out to do just that. My way this time. And I was just about ready to ask her on a proper date when I was forced away for a whole damn month, having to resort to my hand and my memories of her body to get through the cold nights on the field.

The second I was back in the city, I only had one thing in mind. To get what I wanted, in whatever way she would let me.

“Can we talk?” My voice sounded clipped to my own ears, and maybe that’s why her mouth opened in surprise - or maybe it was seeing me at the bar so early, when there was barely anyone around, after being absent for so long.

“Sure,” she finally accepted, shrugging like it was no big deal, but I knew better than that. She might not know it, but I could read her perfectly, and I knew she was hiding her true feelings even to herself. I knew those feelings were deeper than she had ever felt. I knew they made her scared.

“Not here.” She stopped cleaning glasses then, frozen for a second before she looked around, taking in the fact that no one else was going to need her for a while. There was nowhere to run and maybe I was a jerk for doing this during her work hours, but I was a desperate jerk and I couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Okay.” She sounded small, and I knew what she was expecting to get out of this conversation. Closure, in one way or another. For me to finally let go of her. But I wouldn’t.

I wanted her too damn bad to let her escape like that.

“Go out with me.” I asked the second that the office door was closed behind us, and she immediately started shaking her head. “Yes, please,” I insisted. “Let me show you that I want more from you. I want so much more.”

“I can’t give you more,” was her answer, and she still avoided my eyes as she spoke. “One night, you even had two. That’s all I can give you. Please don’t ask me for anything more.”

“Why?” I asked, and the frustration in my voice was enough to get her to meet my eyes for the first time that evening. “Why are you trying to avoid this? I know you want me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t. So just tell me why.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, moving towards the door, but I grasped her hand to stop her before she could slip through it - much like she had done that first night, when I thought I’d screwed up any chance I had to ever be with her.

“Tell me why you’re holding yourself back from me,” I ordered, anger and desire creating an explosive cocktail inside of me, making my voice hoarse. I saw her shiver. I watched her break.

“Because it was too fucking good and I swear to God, if you get your mouth on me again, I’m gonna marry you.” Our expressions mirrored one another, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. She couldn’t believe she had let out her feelings like this. I couldn’t believe there was all there was to it.

I dropped to my knees before her.

“Come here.” I shoved her jeans all the way down to her ankles, sending the button flying somewhere. I couldn’t tell where and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to show her that there was nothing wrong with wanting this, with wanting me because as long as she allowed me to, I’d give anything to be with her.

My tongue was so hungry to taste her sweetness again. I licked a stripe between her lower lips before I could even get my hand there, spreading her with my fingers for easier access.

God, she was heavenly. I watched her let her head fall back against the door, much like the first time I was able to be in this position, and my heartbeat fluttered at the realization that this time, I was much closer to getting what I really wanted from her.

“I’ve been terrified of my own feelings for long enough,” I decided to confess, parting from her clit to be able to speak but slipping two digits inside her hole, filling her up, preparing her to welcome me. “I can wait for you to come to terms with yours. But I can’t keep myself away,” I warned, quickening my movements as I chased away the taste of her in my tongue. “So don’t ask that of me.”

Her moan had my eyes sparkling with excitement. I lowered my head to suck her button, see the way it made her thighs tremble on each side of my face.

“So fucking sexy,” I moaned against her cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Drench my face.” Her little cry of ecstasy denounced she was about to do just that, so I twirled my tongue around her clit, rubbing my digits against her sweet spot as her body tensed under my ministrations.

“There you go…” I whispered, fascinated with the way she looked after her release. It was like she glowed from the inside, muscles relaxing to accept my caresses when I finished cleaning her with my tongue and rose to my full height.

“Next time you try to pretend something between us didn’t happen, I’m gonna bend you over the counter and spank your ass in front of all of the other patrons,” I warned her before nibbling her earlobe. “Go out with me,” I tried again, and she took a deep breath before answering, looking up at me from under her eyelashes.

“Okay.”

#my fics #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #smut #patreon one-shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers reader inserts #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one-shot

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years ago

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how they react when you walk in covered in blood and carrying a gun ~ mcu

request?: no

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns and violence

masterlist (one, two)

*only using the og six plus bucky, wanda and loki because there’s way too many marvel characters rn; also based off of a tiktok by anniedvorak!*

BRUCE BANNER/HULK:

The last person you expected to see when you entered Thor’s room on Sakaar with the intentions of saving him was your boyfriend, Bruce. He had been lost for so long, you had let your heart let go of him. But there he was, stood with a cloth wrapped around his waist after having turned back from the Hulk.

You were tempted to walk back out. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted Bruce to see you - an alien gun in hand and blood splattered over your face and clothes. But it was too late, he was already looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N),” he said, turning to approach you but stopping halfway. You weren’t sure if he had stopped because of the blood or because he was still technically naked. “What are you...what did you...?”

“I’m trying to save Thor,” you responded. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I can explain everything once all of us are off of this planet. Put some pants on, we’re getting out of here.”

~~~~~~

BUCKY BARNES/THE WINTER SOLDIER:

You walked in after a surprise run in with the Flag Smashers. Bucky already looked about ready to kill someone, but when you walked through the door of Zemo’s apartment, blood covering your face and your gun clutched tightly in your hand, his face turned red with anger.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked.

“Flag Smashers,” you breathed in response.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Bucky hissed, abandoning his drink on the counter and making his way to the door.

You put a hand up to stop him. “I think that ship has sailed. This isn’t all my blood.”

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, his face softening as he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I just need a shower, and maybe a visit to a hospital or something. They hit me pretty hard, I think I have some bruised ribs or something.”

He kissed your forehead and took your gun from your still shaking hands. Once it was safely put aside, he brought you into the bathroom to help you bathe and to start dressing your wounds.

~~~~~~

CLINT BARTON/HAWEYE:

You were extremely lucky that Clint worked with someone like Natasha regularly, or else he would’ve been much more concerned when you arrived home from work covered in blood and still carrying you gun. He barley looked up from the TV as you walked through the door, immediately racing for your bedroom so you could shower and change.

“Hard day at work?” he called as you passed by.

“That last target they sent me after put up a hell of a fight,” you responded. “By the time I finally got him, I realized how late it was and rushed home immediately. I’m glad S.H.I.E.L.D issues those SUVs with the tinted windows or else I definitely would’ve been pulled over for suspicious activity.”

Clint chuckled and rose from his seat. He walked into your shared bedroom as you were pulling off you bloodstained clothes and throwing them into a pile to be tossed out eventually. His eyes raked over your body as you looked up at him.

“Red looks good on you,” he said, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s gross,” you teased. “You’re gross. Just for that, you can’t shower with me.”

He groaned as you walked into the bathroom and locked the door before he could follow you in.

~~~~~~

LOKI:

The sly smirk on Loki’s face was enough to almost rid you of the annoyance you felt after what you just had to do. Almost.

You walked up to the panel that controlled his glass cage. You could’ve easily figured out how to deal with it, but instead you shot the control panel. Sparks flew from it before Loki’s prison sprung open.

“Seems like a bit of overkill,” he commented.

“Shut it,” you hissed. “You told me it was going to be easy to break you out. You failed to mention the entire team of guards that were watching this room, and, oh yeah, the team of super humans that were assembled to face you?!”

Loki walked free of his cage, taking a dramatic deep breath before smiling to himself. “Well, doesn’t seem like you had an issue with them, as I knew you wouldn’t.”

He approached you, arms out as if he were going to hug you and try to kiss you. You poked his stomach with the barrel of your gun, glaring up at him.

“Come one step closer and we see how much damage a mortal weapon can do to a God.”

Loki put his hands on your shoulders, keeping you a fair distance away to heed your warning. “I’m sorry for not giving you a proper warning. Thank you for freeing me, I do appreciate it.”

You allowed yourself to relax against his touch and smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”

“Now, let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“You’re doing all the work this time.”

~~~~~~

NATASHA ROMANOFF/BLACK WIDOW:

It probably wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t know where else to go. Natasha had always warned you about the Red Room, and you were so stupid to not listen to her.

Now you were stood on her doorstep, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, your gun dangling from your hand as you wished to drop it but also too scared to let it go. It was what Natasha looked at first when she opened the door - the gun, then to your blood covered face.

“Put the gun down,” she said, her voice calmer than you expected.

You gratefully allowed her to take it from your hand as you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. She pulled you in for a hug, where you started to sob on her shoulder. She took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t followed before bringing you into her house.

“Go get cleaned up,” she told you. “We’ll figure out your next step together.”

~~~~~~

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA:

You showed up to Sam’s shortly after Steve had brought Natasha. You could barley keep yourself up, the fight had taken everything out of you. You were sure Sam was going to turn you away - you were a stranger showing up on his doorstep covered in blood with a gun in your hand. You were pleasantly shocked when he stepped aside and told you where to find Steve.

Poor Steve. He was already trying to help Natasha, who had been in the same situation as you just with a lot less blood. She was resting when you walked in, dazed and just wanting to also rest.

He was up in seconds, reaching out to wrap you in his arms despite the blood covering you.

“The Winter Soldier is one mean fucker,” you breathed, resting your head against Steve’s chest. “I think he finally got wore out and ran off. Unfortunately, I was wore out about an hour before he was, but I kept going.”

“You should’ve given up long ago, honey,” he said.

“I’m not a pussy,” you said with a slight laugh. “Although I am starting to succumb to the pain.”

He picked you up into his arms and carried you to the bathroom where he helped you to rinse the blood off of your body so you could finally rest.

~~~~~~

THOR:

It was a side of you that Thor had never seen before. He had lost you during the battle in Sokovia and was expecting the worst when he couldn’t get you over the coms. When you showed back up to jet, blood covering your tired looking face, he was overjoyed to see you were alright, but also a little shocked by your appearance.

“Those fuckers really thought they had me,” you said, a half laugh bubbling on your lips. “They were a little shocked when I got the upper hand on them. Even more shocked when I shot them dead.”

“I was worried for you, (Y/N),” Thor said, cupping your face in his hands as he approached you. “I truly thought they had taken you from me.”

You smirked up at him. “You really have no faith in me at all them, do you? Or you just underestimate me. I’m a little offended on both accounts, though.”

Thor smiled back at you. “Of course, I would never doubt you. Just a bit of fear is all.”

“When you two are done being gross,” came Tony’s voice from inside the jet, “we’d like to get back to the tower. I think (Y/N) needs a shower and a fresh change of clothes more than anything.”

~~~~~~

TONY STARK/IRON MAN:

“Miss (Y/L/N) incoming Mr. Stark.”

“Tell her to come back at another time, J.A.R.V.I.S, I’m busy right now.”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir.”

Tony looked up to see you walking through the door to his lab, your body trembling as you clutched the gun tightly in your hand. There was a splatter of blood over your shirt and some on your face. You looked up at him, looking like a helpless child.

He quickly walked over to you, his hand automatically reaching for the gun. You gladly let him take it, feeling like a weight had been lifted the moment the weapon was out of your hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I-I was attacked at-at home,” you stuttered. “I don’t know how they got in, I don’t know who they were. I walked into my house and was blindsided by these two men trying to attack me. I got the gun out of the hands of one of them and I...I...”

Your hands moved to mimic the action of shooting your attackers, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to say you had done it. You didn’t want to admit to having shot anyone, even if it was in self defense.

Tony placed the gun aside and took you into his arms. You stopped fighting against the lump that had formed in your throat and began to sob into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair, calming you down.

“It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “It’s alright. I got you now. I won’t let anyone else try to hurt you.”

~~~~~~

WANDA MAXIMOFF/SCARLETT WITCH:

You didn’t think of Tommy and Billy. You didn’t think about the perfect neighborhood Wanda had created. You didn’t even think about Vision, or the version of Vision she had created. Your only thoughts were getting to Wanda before Hayward and his people could.

She was horrified when she opened the door. Of course she was; you were stood at her doorstep, a ghost from the life she wanted to forget, holding a gun with blood splattered on your face.

“You have to get out of here,” you said before she could speak. “You have to break down that boarder and you need to get out of here now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice still in its sitcom mode. “Please leave before I call the police.”

You grabbed hold of her shoulders before she could walk away, startling her.

“Wanda, you have to listen to me. You know what’s happening here because you are controlling it all. I know that, everyone outside the Hex knows that. Including the S.W.O.R.D director Hayward, who is trying to break through your barrier right now to kill you. I know you don’t want to lose this perfect life you’ve made, but your are in real danger. You need to get out of here.”

It seemed like she was understanding. A hurt look passed over her face as she turned to look into the house where her perfect family was likely residing. She took a deep breath and turned back to you.

“Let’s go.”

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #bruce banner #bucky barnes #clint barton #loki odinson #loki #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #thor odinson #thor #tony stark #wanda maximoff #imagine #preference #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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elysiadjarin · 3 years ago

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Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

#elysiadjarinkinktober #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #elysiadjarin #nsft #x reader #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #xyou

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.”

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?”

The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

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biisexualemma · 4 years ago

Text

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

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