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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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The Wrong Idea (part 2) | Lee Bodecker x Reader

(read part 1 here)

summary: your relationship with your stepfather only becomes more tense, and both of you know you can’t avoid him forever.

word count: nearly 5.8k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon/noncon, and a few consensual encounters), stepcest, pain kink, daddy kink, groping, semi-public sex, a bit of pregnancy/breeding kink (just through dialogue), stockholm syndrome/sympathy for the abuser, grooming (hence the thing before this one), a bit of violence including use of a gun, a bit of housewife kink?

Jimmy O’Doyle was sweet, and handsome; tall, and strong, and with this gorgeous blonde hair that he either styled relentlessly or just somehow dried perfect on its own. Sure, his nose was a little big, but you found it endearing, especially when his smile was even bigger.

Most of the girls in Knockemstiff had a crush on Jimmy— maybe it was his looks, maybe it was the fact that he drove one of the nicer cars in town— but he was either oblivious or uninterested. He seemed to keep to himself most of the time, though he'd always be polite and carry conversation if you approached him.

Well, not you. You never approached him. It made you a little too nervous.

Therefore, you had no plan when he approached you after church one Sunday. You didn't even realize he knew your name, until he used it to get your attention with a tap on your shoulder.

"Oh, hey Jimmy," you mumbled back, looking up at him and chewing your lip.

"I like your dress," he informed you with a tilted smile. You looked down at it— yellow, with a white gingham on the skirt— and felt your face getting a little warm.

"Oh, this? Thanks, um, it was a gift from— from my stepdad."

"Oh, was it your birthday?"

You shook your head. "Not for a few more months, he just bought me something to be nice."

Jimmy nodded, and there was an uncomfortable silence before you suddenly blurted out: "I like your tie!"

"Thanks!” he beamed. “I got it when I went to—”

"Time to go, sweetie," your mother interrupted to inform you, motioning to the parking lot where Sheriff Bodecker was opening the driver's side door of his patrol car. (Yes, he drove the three of you to church in the fucking patrol car.)

"Just a minute, mama," you smiled back. “What were you gonna say?” you asked Jimmy.

“Uh, I was just gonna ask you somethin’...”

“Well, what is it?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a moment. “Just if maybe you wanted to, uh, go for a drive sometime or somethin’...”

“A drive? Yeah, sure,” you smiled, feeling a giddy nervousness bloom in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded. “I’ll pick you up tonight? At 7?”

You pictured Jimmy appearing at the door with your mother and Lee sitting in the living room. “Um, no, I’ll meet you somewhere. At the corner of Bailey and Hillside?”

“All right,” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one in a yellow dress,” you winked.

“I’ll be the one in the blue Cadillac,” he grinned.

Your mother called to you again and you waved goodbye to Jimmy, feeling your cheeks warm as he waved back.

“What was that all about?” she asked as you got into the back seat.

“Oh, he was just asking if I’d wanna join the choir,” you lied quickly.

“Well I hope you said no! I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself,” she smiled.

“Of course, mama,” you nodded, shooting Lee a glance that said ‘do you see how she is?’

He looked back just for a second before starting the car, and you knew he understood better than most.

You had a plan to tell your mother and stepfather that you were going to meet some friends for dinner, but they never even asked where you were going. Certainly made it easier to slip out and begin your walk to the corner where you planned to meet your date.

You had your yellow dress on like you said you would, but you didn't wear the white cardigan that you had on over it at church that morning. It was a warm night anyhow, but you hoped it would be a little more mature without it. Not revealing or anything, but a little more daring.

Hopping into Jimmy’s passenger seat made you feel like the most special girl in the world, though you knew it wasn’t actually that big of a deal. You let yourself get excited anyway.

The conversation was pleasant, if nerve-wracking. At first, you kind of hoped some other girls in town would see you in his car and get jealous, but as you two got to talking and you appreciated the scenic drive, it wasn’t so important to you anymore. Jimmy asked where you wanted to go. You just told him to go anywhere. You weren’t exactly offended when he decided to take you to the closest thing Knockemstiff had to a ‘makeout point’: it was just a nice park that had a lot of open space and a cute little creek down the middle. Knowing what this implied, you felt your face warm up slightly.

“Is it okay if we just sit in here and talk for a bit?” Jimmy asked gently. “I rather like getting to know you.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you nodded, “I like talking to you, too.”

It went on like that for a while, talking about all sorts of things that were mostly unimportant. Jimmy went on a bit of a ramble about baseball, which you normally found terminally boring; it was interesting when he talked about it with so much passion, though. And he returned the favor by listening to you talk about politics which was probably just as boring to him.

“I’ve never known a girl who knew so much about the world,” he said, seeming impressed.

“I don’t think I know that much,” you shook your head, “I just listen to the radio.”

“I listen to the radio, too, but it must not be the same station as you,” he laughed.

An awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable, silence fell over the car. You wanted to make a move, but you didn’t know how.

“Maybe we could turn on the radio now,” you suggested.

“All right,” he jumped up, leaning forward and turning his car radio on.

And dear, I wonder if you find love an optical illusion, too?

“Oh, I love this song,” you admitted. “I don’t have a record player, but I think if I did I’d only have Billie Holiday records.”

“You should come over sometime, I have a lot of records,” Jimmy offered.

“Does that mean we’ll have a second date?” you asked hopefully.

“Does that mean we’re having a first date, right now?” he returned.

“I was sort of hoping so,” you smiled nervously.

“So was I,” he agreed.

Are the stars out tonight? I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright…

Your mind wandered as you feared that somehow, Jimmy would see right through you— see who you really were. And if he did that, he’d never want you. You knew that. You figured Sheriff Bodecker would go out of his way to make sure you knew that, if he ever found out this was going on. But he wasn’t going to find out, you decided, because he had no way of knowing and you were grown anyhow.

‘cause I only have eyes for you…

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized Jimmy was leaning in towards you; and though you felt oddly guilty for no good reason at all, you closed the gap and kissed him.

It was gentle and sweet, nothing like the kisses you were used to. Some materialistic, status-conscious part of you (probably the part that was related to your mother) was over the moon to be kissing the most popular young man in the whole town. Most of you, though, was just happy to be kissing a boy that you liked, and that liked you back.

And secretly, a very teeny tiny part of you was thinking of someone else.

“You are so beautiful,” Jimmy whispered into the kiss.

“Really? You think so?” you whispered back, smiling.

“Everybody does,” he answered as if it were obvious.

You kissed him deeper, the smallest moan slipping out as his hands moved over your waist. You gasped a bit when his hands moved to grab your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and kissed him again, whimpering softly as his hands massaged you through your dress.

Arousal was starting to awaken between your legs, and you felt your hips pushing down against the seat a little harder, seeking stimulation. Gingerly, your hand started to slide up his leg, and you both gasped when you felt his erection underneath the corduroy.

He quickly took his hands off you to open up his trousers, pulling his cock out and sighing a bit when your hand wrapped around it.

You could tell it wasn’t as big as the Sheriff’s— not as long or as thick— but it still felt good in your hand, and Jimmy still looked beautiful with that look of pleasure and shock on his face.

“Damn, you’re…” Jimmy moaned, almost in disbelief, as you started to stroke him. “You’re incredible.”

“Touch me again,” you pleaded gently, biting your lip when he reached up to pull the top of your dress down a bit— just enough to expose your tits and grab them again.

You got lost in the moment, with how good his hands felt on you, and how nice it was to kiss him, and how much you wanted him to come all over your hand. So lost, in fact, that neither of you noticed a car had pulled up behind his until there was a tap at your window.

It was the Sheriff, shining a flashlight into the car.

“Shit!” Jimmy gasped, shoving you away and tucking himself back into his trousers while you pulled up your dress to cover yourself and turned off the radio. Your stomach sank and you thought you could probably vomit right then and there.

“Roll down the window, please,” Lee requested, and you awkwardly cranked the handle until it was halfway down.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, it was—” Jimmy began to explain.

“What do you want?” you interrupted, glaring at Lee.

“Just wanna make sure you’re both alright,” he answered sternly. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

“It’s not even ten,” you announced with crossed arms, “and you aren’t supposed to be workin’ tonight.”

Jimmy stared at you with wide eyes, somewhere between impressed and terrified that you were standing up to the Sheriff.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Lee snarled. You sighed and rolled up the window again; Lee stepped out of the way so you could open your door as you got out. “You, stay in the car,” he instructed Jimmy, who nodded fearfully.

The second you shut the door, Lee was pressing you back into the side of the car and staring you down. You were terrified of him, actually, but you refused to show it.

You whispered to him harshly, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t hear your exchange. “Go. Away.”

Lee chuckled, in an angry sort of way. “Givin’ some schoolboy a tug in his car, huh? In the dress I bought you? Thought you were better than that.”

“It’s none of your business,” you asserted.

“Everything that happens in this town is my business,” he replied, “and everything that happens to you is my problem.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a jealous creep who followed me around,” you hissed.

Jimmy stepped out of the car, and both of you turned to look back at him.

“Everything alright?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Lee.

“Can’t say that it is,” the Sheriff shook his head. “Way I see it, this is public indecency for the both of you.”

“Sir, we didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll let you off with a warning,” Lee told Jimmy with a disappointed frown.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled.

“Not you,” he turned back to you with a sigh. “I'm afraid I'll have to detain you. Can't give you special treatment just cause you're family.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“You heard me, girl. Hands behind your back."

“You can’t be serious,” Jimmy protested.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your vehicle?” Lee remembered angrily, and Jimmy hesitated but obeyed.

As he cuffed your wrists, his hand drifted downward, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Lee, don't…" you pleaded softly, "not here."

"Not here?” he whispered against your ear, making you shiver. “Then where, princess? You're never at home anymore. When am I s'posed to make my girl feel good, huh? When are you gonna take care of me?"

"You can take care of yourself," you grimaced.

"Oh, I do. After your ma falls asleep," he chuckled. "I get my cock off all by myself, thinking about you and your tight fuckin' hole."

You whimpered as he started to gather your skirt, rubbing his hands on your legs underneath.

"And what's this with you calling me Lee? You know it's Sheriff in public, and Daddy at home."

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I was just—”

“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Lee grumbled as he roughly guided you to his patrol car, all but tossing you into the back.

“Where are you gonna take her?” Jimmy asked as he leaned out of his window, not seeming to have noticed the way Lee was touching you but still obviously uncomfortable.

“Home,” was all Lee replied as he got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Of course, as he started to drive, you realized that was a lie. He drove down winding roads in tense silence, until he pulled into a clearing in the woods and turned off the engine.

“You fucked up real big tonight,” he informed you as he turned back to look at you through the caged partition.

You just looked at your skirt, that damned yellow and white gingham that had gotten you into this mess.

“Get out, get in front of the car, and bend over the hood.”

He leaned back to open the door for you from the inside, and you shivered from the sudden blast of cool night air. Lee watched you through the windshield with a dark glare as you walked around the car and laid yourself down over the hood. The metal was cold; cold enough to seep through your clothes and make you shiver. The whole world looked sideways when you saw it from this angle, but truthfully, your whole world felt completely upside down. You just waited like that for a moment— and it was the best he’d ever done to make you feel worthless, having you wait patiently for him to do what he was about to do to you.

Eventually, he stepped out with a gruff instruction not to move. When his form was no longer visible in your peripheral vision, you felt him pressed up against the back of your legs as your skirt started to slide up.

“I try to be nice to ya,” he grunted, “treat you right, buy you things. And what does it get me, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, because you were sure anything you would say would just make it worse. With your skirt flipped up completely now, you could feel the cold autumn breeze on your legs as he pulled your panties to the side.

“I’m startin’ to think that kindness doesn’t go very far with you. You like it best when I’m mean, dontcha?”

His belt made that terrible clinking sound as he opened it, and you felt his cock rubbing through your folds.

“Normally I would get you wetter first, but I think this’ll just have to do tonight.”

He pushed forward and it fucking burned. You cried out, breathing through your teeth as you tried to bear the pain. Behind your back, your nails dug into your palm.

He didn’t slow down at all, though, and fucked you faster and harder in spite of the sting. Determined to get a reaction, he slapped your ass, too.

“Daddy!” you sobbed. “It hurts!”

“You could’ve avoided it,” he yelled angrily. “It didn’t have to be like this, but you wanted to act like a fuckin’ whore, and now you’re gettin’ treated like one.”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, wet tears warming the cold metal of the car beneath you. “I’m so sorry, daddy!”

Lee grabbed your hips tighter, surely enough to bruise. Disturbingly, you felt yourself getting more aroused— it made it less painful physically, but so much more painful mentally.

“Told ya you like it rough,” he laughed. “You’re already clenchin’ on me, I can tell you’re gonna come.”

You tried to shake your head, but he was right. He reached up and pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp. Even that made a pleasant tingle run down your spine, despite the fact that it hurt so much.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, princess,” he groaned, leaning down and watching your face closely, “you’re gonna come for your daddy, right fuckin’ now.”

You heard a twig snap before you knew what it was. "What the fuck?!" another voice called out.

It was Jimmy, standing off just a few feet away in disbelief. You closed your eyes, unable and unwilling to look at him in this moment. Lee just sighed as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back into the pants of his uniform and zipping back up. "You didn't see anything, kid."

"You… you're…” Jimmy stammered, “that's your stepdaughter! The hell is wrong with you?"

"I said," Lee growled as he crossed the distance between him and Jimmy, pulling his gun from its holster and holding it under the boy’s neck, "ya didn't see nothin'."

"Don't hurt him, Lee, please!" you sobbed.

"Hey!" Lee yelped, turning back to look at you. "You, shut up!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Jimmy protested. Lee responded with a swift backhanded slap, hitting Jimmy with his gun in the process.

"You'd better learn how to respect authority, son, and real damn soon before somebody hands your ass to ya. I'm not doin' nothing wrong with her, I'll have you know. She's of age, and I'm not forcin' her to do it. She likes it,” Lee bragged, “begs me for it, day and night. Frankly, I can barely keep up with her. Now, get on and mind your business, and this won't be any trouble for you."

Jimmy hesitated a little, glancing over at you for a moment. “You’re a sick bastard, Sheriff,” he sighed as he shook his head.

Lee just grinned, almost like he was proud of the title. "Tell me somethin', Timmy—"

"It's Jimmy."

"Yeah, whatever— you kissed her, didn’t ya?"

"Yes."

Lee laughed, grabbing the boy on the shoulder as if they were old chums or something. "Oh, kid, if only you knew where that mouth had been."

Jimmy looked disgusted as he glanced at you and then to the ground, before turning away to storm off into the woods. Lee seemed so proud of himself as he walked back to you, pushing you down since you’d started to lean up off the car.

"Now, where were we?" he purred.

"I hate you," you sobbed, "I hate you!"

"Oh yeah, that's right— you were about to come all over my fuckin’ cock."

He quickly got himself back out and shoved into you again, hard and brutal thrusts slamming your hips forward painfully.

"I'd better not catch you with another stupid fuckin’ boy," he growled. "You don't know how mean I can be, little girl. You don't know everything I could do to them… you don't know everything I could do to you."

You tried your best to apologise again but the strength of your sobs made you nearly unintelligible. Worse, you were so close to coming that you were starting to see stars.

"You're mine now, ya hear?" he moaned against your ear. "Nobody else in this town is gonna touch you, or they'll have to answer to me. Don't even want 'em lookin' atcha."

Your orgasm made your legs feel like jelly, your whole body going limp as all the energy to fight left you. He kept fucking you strong and fast, overstimulating the most sensitive places inside you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your thoughts became fuzzy and distant, and all you could feel was overwhelming pleasure buzzing under your skin.

"Yours," you moaned weakly, "just yours, daddy…"

"Fuck, gonna come," he warned you, "gonna fill you up, sweetheart."

You nodded, the danger of that prospect feeling distant and abstract, while the best parts of it felt so close and tangible. He groaned as he pumped his load into you, thick and hot and warming you from the inside out. When he finally slowed to a stop and pulled out, you could feel a gush of it leak out of your opening and run down your thigh.

Silently, he uncuffed your wrists and helped you up off the car, sliding into the backseat with you with a quiet shut of the door behind him. Something about the overwhelming sensations of it all, and the way it went from so loud to so quiet in just a moment, and his sudden switch from cruel to gentle, made your eyes water until you couldn't help but bawl. You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed, clutching at his chest.

"I'm so sorry, daddy," you whimpered, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong…"

"Shh, it's okay, sweet girl," he cooed as he stroked your back soothingly. "You know I only get upset like that cause I want the best for you."

"I know," you sighed, "I just wanted to be normal, you know? Have a boyfriend like the other girls do, somebody I could marry someday."

"I get it," he nodded, "I don't blame you. I wish we could leave this place, and start over where nobody knows where we are. But you know I couldn't leave Knockemstiff… not when I'm about to win this election."

"If you can win here, maybe you can win somewhere else," you suggested.

He turned to look at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. "You sayin you wanna run away with me, princess?"

"Umm…" you stalled.

"I know you wanna get away from your ma. Hell, so do I. You understand why I needed a wife though— people trust men with wives more," he explained matter-of-factly, "and not wives that are more than 20 years younger than them."

"So it was all a way to get reelected?"

"I was lonely too. Marriage didn't fix that though. You did."

You looked up at him and couldn't believe the way you felt when you did. Sometimes you hated him even more than you did before he married your mother, but at times like this, you loved him in a way you'd never loved anybody before. You wondered if maybe hating somebody like that sometimes was just the way love worked.

"Come on, sweet girl, let's go home," he suggested softly, kissing you on the forehead.

You nodded as he got out of the back and returned to the driver’s seat, starting the car. Laying down, you watched the tops of the trees through the window— though it was quite dark out and there wasn’t a lot to see— and felt your eyelids get heavy. Drifting to sleep, you dreamt in vivid colors of abstract things that you could never explain with words if you tried; though you couldn’t have known it, Lee watched you sleep in the rearview mirror, and did some dreaming of his own.

Midnight snacks; the least of your many bad habits.

You emerged from your room in your summer nightgown— which meant it was as thin as it needed to be for the heat outside— and stepped carefully over the floorboards you knew to creak the loudest as you made your clandestine trek to the mint-colored refrigerator.

As you moved through the living room to get to your destination, you jumped when a figure shifted in the darkness. Realizing it was Lee, you relaxed (mostly).

"You scared me," you giggled. "What are you doing on the couch?"

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head and looking a little exhausted. "Uh, nothing… what are you doing up?”

“Just getting a snack,” you admitted, “hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t stop on my account. I was thinkin’ of a beer anyways,” he shrugged, following you to the fridge as you opened it. His shirtlessness was a little distracting as he stood behind you, looking over your shoulder and reaching around to grab the glass bottle. Settling on a leftover slice of cake wrapped in saran, you set your bounty on the counter while Lee opened and took a sip of his drink.

“Is it good?” he asked you once you’d acquired a fork and scooped a bite of the sweet, sugary dessert into your mouth.

You nodded, smiling but trying to keep your lips together to avoid spitting the food out. It was a few days old but somehow it tasted better than it had when it was fresh— maybe it was that it was cold on a hot night, or maybe it was that you’d had to navigate a nauseatingly-boring baby shower in order to get some the first time. Your mother insisted on dragging you along to all kinds of ridiculous community events like that.

Your next bite was more ambitious, because you weren’t exactly worried about eating in a ladylike manner when it was past midnight and you were eating cake in your pyjamas.

“You got some frostin’ on your nose,” Lee informed you— but before you could wipe it off, he took his finger and swiped it right on the tip of your nose. You felt yourself blush a bit as he licked the blue cream off of his finger. “It’s sweet,” he announced, “but maybe that’s just you.”

As warmth bloomed in your chest from his kindness (even if it was cheesy), you felt a little bolder to press him about what was actually going on.

“Why were you really on the couch?” you asked softly.

He paused for a second, taking a long, slow sip of beer as he thought, but finally answered. “I got kicked out of the bed. Your ma… well, she doesn't handle rejection very well it seems."

"Rejection…?" you encouraged, feeling a bit nervous suddenly.

"I wouldn't sleep with her,” he clarified. “And now I'm sleepin’… here."

You swallowed, even though you weren’t eating at that exact moment. "Why… why wouldn't you sleep with her?"

He smirked a little. "Sweetheart, once you've had a taste of rare meat, you never go back to well done."

The comparison to meat was demeaning, even if you came out on the flattering end of the metaphor. Still, you took pity on him as you saw how uncomfortable the couch looked.

"You could sleep in my bed, you know,” you offered awkwardly. “I mean, it's not as big as yours but… it's definitely bigger than the couch…"

He smiled at you in a way that made you wonder if you'd made a mistake. "You're too sweet, darlin'. Even for your own good."

The rest of your cake and his beer was forgotten as you walked with each other to your bedroom, now both of you avoiding the creakiest boards. You couldn’t ignore the way he shut the door behind you as quietly as possible— another reminder that, though neither of you were saying it, that this was the sort of thing you didn’t want to be overheard. The secrecy of it all made your spine tingle, and you liked it. Who knew a good girl like you would learn to love breaking the rules so much?

It wasn't as strange as you'd expected to have him in your bed. A little cramped, maybe, but also oddly nice. He cuddled up to you, and you felt small but safe in his arms. When his lips pressed against the back of your neck, you whimpered softly; and when his fingers started to trail down between your legs, you moaned a bit louder.

"Gotta be quiet, pretty girl, don't want anybody else in the house hearin' ya…"

You'd never known how good it could feel to be touched until Lee touched you. His fingers found every delicate spot and slowly took you apart until it became near impossible to stay quiet. So quickly after invading your body, he invaded your mind as well, and now he was all you could think about. Not just in moments like this, disturbingly, but damn-near all the time. It wasn’t that you forgot everything you hated about him, but more that you forgot how to feel the hate and instead could only logically try to convince yourself to hate him still. Logic was long gone, though, as he kissed your shoulder and pushed two thick fingers into you.

"You're so wet, honey, you're gonna spoil me," he purred softly against your ear. "Want me to love ya good, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, smiling wide.

He smiled back as rolled you onto your back and slipped between your legs, pushing his pyjama pants down. You preened when you felt his cock start to slide over your pussy. When he suddenly pushed in, you gasped and arched your back.

"Shh," he soothed, "it's okay, baby, you can take it. You're so good, princess, my good girl…"

You whimpered but kept mostly quiet as he thrusted deeper, nearly all the way in. Was he always going to be this much of a challenge to take?

"Keep those legs open real wide, honey, show me how bad you want it," he purred.

Your head craned up to watch his cock disappearing inside you, only to fall back again as he pulled back and pushed in, over and over, fucking you slow but deep.

"Daddy," you whimpered softly, "feels so good, please don't stop…"

He kissed you, cradling your face in his hands. "Not gonna stop, princess, 'm right here, not gonna letcha go…"

You clutched at his shoulders, feeling so full that it almost hurt but you loved it, god you loved it more than you could’ve ever believed. You loved the feeling of him inside you, like you were made for each other. You loved his little breaths and moans, and knowing it was because of you that he felt good. You loved it, even, when he went a bit too deep and your arms shot up to push him back, only for him to grab your wrists and hold your hands above your head.

"My girl," he whispered into your ear, "my girl, my girl, my girl."

And shockingly enough, you loved being his girl.

"I love you, daddy," you sighed, so quiet that you were afraid he wouldn't hear you. But he did.

"Say it again," he requested.

"I love you," you repeated, "I love you so much, daddy."

"I love you too, princess," he answered with a smile, "more than you can imagine."

He kissed you as his thrusts gained some speed, your walls already fluttering each time he pushed all the way in. You knew he felt it because you could tell that he was still smiling into the kisses he placed on your neck and shoulders. You knew he was close, too, because it was his cock beginning to swell and flex within you that pushed you over the edge. He helped you stay quiet by wrapping his hand around your neck and tightening until you started to see stars. It made everything stronger, so much so that it quickly became overwhelming as tears quickly began to pour down the sides of your face.

He was quick to comfort you though, relaxing his grip and wiping the tears away with reverently-whispered praises.

“Don’t pull out yet, daddy,” you requested softly, wrapping your legs around his hips when you felt that he was trying to pull back. “I like feeling you inside me…”

He kissed you again, gripping your thigh tight, and stayed that way until you finally agreed that he could go— and who were you to say how long you made him wait? It felt too good to let him go so soon, even if he was exhausted. As soon as you nodded, though, he was slipping out and sighing.

"Fuck it, I'm not gonna wait any longer," he groaned as he laid back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, "I wanna make you mine for good."

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him and admiring the little details of his face that you could only see when you were this close. "I thought you said you'd never leave Knockemstiff."

"I don't think I have to. What's the point of bein' the Sheriff if I can't marry who I want?"

You bit your lip a little before replying to that. "You really wanna marry me?"

"Of course I do, princess,” he smiled proudly, looking back at you. “Might have to wait a while if I'm s'posed to save up for another one of them diamond rings…"

"I don't need one, long as I have you," you decided confidently.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," he smirked, kissing your temple softly. "Can't wait to spoil you the way you deserve."

“How’s that?” you pressed, drawing abstract shapes onto his chest with your fingertip.

“A bigger bed than this,” he laughed. “A nice car— if you want your own, that is. You know I’d love to have you shotgun with me in the patrol car as much as I can.”

“You’d really get me a car?”

“Of course, after a little while. What kind would you want?”

“A red one. A real glossy red one.”

“Alright,” he smirked. “How about I getcha somethin’ else fancy— pearls, maybe? A girl like you deserves to wear pearls every day.”

“You think I’d look good in them?”

“Mm, especially if you weren’t in much else.”

“Okay, I could wear pearls if you bought them for me. Maybe I’ll be one of those wives who’s wearing pearls and heels when her husband gets home from work.”

“Fuck, talkin’ like that’ll get me hard again, princess,” he groaned. “Anythin’ else you want?”

“...I want a baby,” you admitted softly, embarrassed to even say it.

“I’ll put one in ya right now, sweetpea,” he purred. “Well, maybe not right now, I need a minute or two but… I could’ve already gotten you pregnant, you know. I’m no good at pullin’ out when it comes to you and that tight little pussy.”

“Is it strange if I sort of hope you did? Get me pregnant already, I mean.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “at least not to me. But I’m a little stranger than most.”

“Yes, that’s the impression I get,” you giggled.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’d look beautiful pregnant, all round and glowin’, with my baby in ya…” he trailed off, clearly imagining it.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’re the most handsome man in all of Ohio,” you winked, snuggling up closer to him.

“That is most certainly strange,” Lee laughed.

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x you

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0bsess3d · 4 years ago

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lies | j.m. | part one

masterlist

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader x Best Friend!OC

A/N: So idk if I like this or if I’m even going to continue this series (it’ll probably take a while). I also have no idea if I’m even gonna keep this shit up. I hope you enjoy it tho. also, the name sucks i know that, but i may change it later on idk.

Warnings: Cursing, Lying, I think that’s about it rn.

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Instead of rejecting your friend, you tell him you’re taken, which is a complete and total lie. Now that he’s asking to meet this so-called boyfriend of yours, you’re going to need someone to play the role of your imaginary love interest.

It was a shame that this great day was coming to an end. It was the first day of Summer Break, so, just like every other summer, you and your best friend spent the whole day on the water. Only, this time, you used his father’s new boat instead of your brother’s. It was now around 9 in the afternoon, and Julian was now driving you back to the chateau. Julian’s old truck finally came to a stop in front of the chateau, meaning that the fun was now officially over. “Thanks for the ride.” You went to open the door before Julian grabbed your other hand, stopping you. “What’s wrong?”

“I uh just need to ask you something.” You could tell he had something on his mind on the ride over here. He’s been all quiet which is very unusual for him, and he kept tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What is it?” You queried suspiciously and somewhat afraid.

“Do you- Would you wanna go out somewhere Friday night? Like, as a date?” You froze, still processing what he had asked. You had no idea he liked you this way. You had only ever thought of your relationship as purely platonic. You were just best friends. And only ever that.

“Julian-”

“You don’t feel the same way, do you?” He nodded after you didn’t reply, not looking you in the eye. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He just seems so sad and disappointed. You had to come up with something -- anything -- to make him feel better, even if it was just a teeny tiny bit.

“No, Julian, it’s okay. It’s just that I- I’ve been seeing someone.” You felt bad about lying to him. To be honest, it felt childish. Like you were in middle school again, making up a boyfriend to make yourself look “cool” to all of your friends. Obviously, this occasion was different. This time, you’re lying to protect your friendship from being ruined by the awkwardness that would surely follow up this conversation.

He was surprised, but there was still a hint of disappointment and maybe even embarrassment left on his face. “Oh- You haven’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we’ve kept it a secret for a while, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” You ended it with a slight chuckle. Ever since you were little, you’ve been a great liar. It was just a natural talent that you were born with. And it really did come in handy in times such as these.

Julian sighed, looking down at his floorboard. “I’m happy for you.” He gave a small, friendly smile. “Disappointed, but happy nonetheless.” The look he gave you made you feel guilty for lying to him. But, this was for the greater good, right? Because you felt like you were doing the right thing. “I do want to meet this boy, though.” He added, giving you a sick, nervous feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach.

“You do?” Your eyes widened for a split second before you told your body to keep calm. This lie of yours had already started to backfire, and you had only said it a few seconds ago. How the hell are you going to get out of this one?

“Hell, yeah, I do. As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure the guy you’re dating isn’t a complete asshole.” He elbowed your side after the phrase “best friend,” making you a hell of a lot more guilty than you already were. He gasped, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You should totally invite him to the movie night this Saturday. I’ll let Kassi know that you’re bringing him.”

He seems way happier to meet him than you are.

As soon as you got inside the house, you launched yourself onto the couch, your face landing right beside where your brother was sitting. You let out a muffled groan into the cushions below you.

“What’s wrong?” John B asked, stifling a chuckle.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Well, we all knew that already.” He laughed. You picked yourself up from the couch and sat beside him the correct way, giving him a death glare. “What happened, though?”

“Julian asked me out on a date, and, obviously, I only like him as a friend. But I couldn’t just say no because then it would make everything awkward. So, I did the only thing that made sense to me. I told him that I had a boyfriend that I’ve been keeping a secret. And the problem with that is that he wants to meet him now.” You rambled on.

John B laughed a little at your situation, earning a glare from you. “That sounds like a situation you’d get yourself into.”

You hit his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. I need advice, not for you to make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” He thought for a second. “Try and find someone to pretend to be your boyfriend. Not someone he knows, though, because then he’ll catch you in the lie.”

“Who would I ask, though?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s your problem. I got to get ready for bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, thanks for helping, jerk.” You said with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“No problem, sis, love you.” The next sound that was heard was your annoying brother’s bedroom door slamming shut and then the sound of your groaning.

Then, from the kitchen, you hear the voice of someone that you didn’t even know was in your house at the moment. JJ Maybank. “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.” Your head snapped in his direction.

“You’re serious?” You questioned, relieved that you didn’t have to beg any of your other friends to do this.

“Yes, I’m serious. But you’ll owe me.” JJ moved from the kitchen to where you sat on the couch.

“Of course, thank you so much, JJ.”

“Nope, there is no way you are pretending to date my sister.” John B hollered from the other side of your father’s boat. You had just explained to everyone yesterday’s events, and everyone except for your brother didn’t have a problem with it.

“Come on, John B, please. It was your idea in the first place to find a fake boyfriend.” You tried to reason with the stubborn, stubborn boy you called your brother.

“I didn’t mean my best friend!” He shouted before pointing over at Kiara. “Kie, you’re the one that created the “no pogue on pogue macking” rule. Why are you okay with this?”

Kie shrugged. “John B, they aren’t going to actually date. It’s just pretending.” John kept silent as if he was rethinking his opinion on the whole matter.

JJ then spoke up, “She’s not wrong, JB. You know I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t break the Bro Code.”

John glanced over at JJ and nodded. “Okay, okay. I guess you guys are right.” The rest of the pogues cheered before being interrupted by your brother again. “But, if I see any PDA, real or fake, I’m murdering you both.”

“Got it, brother-in-law.”

“And don’t call me that, JJ.”

#jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj headcanons #jj imagines #jj maybank love triangle #obx jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #obx jj #obx pogues #obx #Outer Banks #jj outer banks #outer banks cast #jj x reader x oc #jj x y/n

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kolsmikaelson · 4 years ago

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the three times he tried to ask you out and the one time he actually did- joel farabee

a/n- this is kinda meh but i hope yall enjoy it. not proofread. gif not mine, creds to owner.

word count-1.3k+

warnings- gets a teeny bit heated but no smut

add yourself to the taglist

you met joel the first day you moved into the apartment complex. he caught your eye from that very day. he was around your age, seemed sweet, and not to mention he was definitely attractive. you thought he was shy at first but when you heard him with some friends not long after moving in, you thought he was just shy around you.

the first time he tried to ask you out was a bit of a disaster. he caught you in the hallway when you were coming home from getting groceries. ‘hey y/n ! need any help?’ you smile his way, ‘ joel hey ! yeah that would be lovely.’ you let joel take some of the bags from your hands so that you’re able to get your key into the lock. as soon as you both are in your apartment you lead him into the kitchen where he puts down the groceries he took from you. ‘thank you joel, i really appreciate it.’ his face gets even more red as the seconds pass. joel keeps his eyes trained on the ground and mumbles out a thank you.

before he turns to leave your apartment, ‘hey uh, y/n?’ he questions. you hum in response and look up at him. ‘would you..’ he trails off before correcting himself. ‘would you let me borrow your phone ? i accidentally locked myself out and i need to call my team mate so he can bring me my extra key.’ he scratches his neck, beating himself up on the inside for not asking you out. ‘ yeah of course, here you go,’ you hand your phone to him. he walks towards the front door and pretends to call someone.

————

the next time joel tries to ask you out is after a rough game. the flyers lost, 4-0, to the pens, and a loss is always hard for him, wether it be to the pens or not. he knew that he would probably chicken out again, but it couldn’t hurt to try. he stops in front of your door instead of walking to his and brings his fist up to knock. when you hear the knock your brows furrow in confusion, you weren’t expecting anyone so hearing a knock on your door this late was confusing. you look through the peephole to see joel standing there nervously. ‘ hey whats up joel, you okay?’

‘oh fuck’ he thinks. he realizes he has no idea what he wanted to say. he rushes to come up with an excuse, any excuse, to speak to you and not stand there like an idiot. ‘ uh i was baking a cake for my mom, and i was a couple eggs short do you think you could spare two?’ you laugh, ‘yeah of course dude, one sec.’ dude he thinks, you’ll never think of him as anything more than a friend. his face drops at this realization.

you walk back up to joel and see the look on his face, you wanted to ask what was wrong but you hadn’t known him all that long so you decided against it. ‘ here you go joel’ you place the eggs in his hand, your fingers brushing his slightly, making the both of you blush. ‘thanks y/n, i appreciate it.’ you nod and close the door as he walks away.

joel walks back into his apartment with two eggs in his hand that he didn’t even need. he was so sure he was gonna do it. ‘another time.’ he thinks to himself.

————

the third time he tried to ask you out, is when you helped him into his apartment after a rough game. you hear some thuds outside of your apartment so you choose to peek your head out and see if anyone needs help. the sight you see surprises you. ‘joel, what happened?’ he looks at you and shakes his head. ‘nothing y/n im fine, you can go back inside,’ he smiles. you can see him wince as he moves to unlock his apartment door. you rush to close your door and help him stay standing. ‘yeah, definitely not happening farabee. i’m gonna help you and you’re gonna tell me what the hell happened.’ he nods but stays quiet. he hadn’t wanted you to look at him differently when he told you he was in the nhl. he wanted to get to know you better before telling you. he didn’t assume that you’d try and take advantage of him, but it had happened before and he was nervous.

once you have him sitting on his couch you ask what happened again. ‘ um, i’m in the nhl and i had a pretty rough game tonight, i’m just sore.’ he mutters hoping that you don’t hear him. you did hear him though. ‘woah really? thats insane. you must be really good huh?’ you joke. you can see his face drop at your joke. ‘hey, joel im joking, i don’t care that you’re in the nhl, you’re still my same dorky cute neighbor.’ you realize your slip up after it is too late. joel smiles at your confession, ‘you think im cute huh?’ he smirks. you playfully hit his chest, ‘ and what if i do?’ you smile. ‘well, you’re in luck, i happen to find you very pretty y/n.’

————

the time joel finally had to guts to ask you out. he came home from the bar after a 5-0 win against the pens a little tipsy and as happy as you had ever seen him. joel knocks on your front door at half past eleven with determination set on his face. this was of course after he had a couple of drinks in him and some pep talks from nolan and teeks. he was going to finally ask you out after all the months of pining after you. all he could do was hope you said yes.

you open the door sleepily, ‘joel?’ you question. he immediately feels bad for having woken you and almost decided to just ask you out the next day. but before he can stop himself, ‘hey y/n, i know this is random, and don’t feel like you have to reciprocate these feelings but i need to do this for me. y/n we have slowly been getting to know each other since you moved in and i think i’ve fallen for you. you’re just so kind and genuine, and not to mention gorgeous. so i guess what im trying to say is, will you go out with me?�� you let joel take a breath before answering him. ‘joel, i would love to go out with you’ you respond with a grin breaking out in both yours and joels faces. ‘could i hug you? i don’t wanna go to far and ask for a kiss yet, but you saying yes makes me so happy.’ joel rambles. you nod and pull him in for a hug, but what he didn’t expect, was for you to pull his face to yours and press your lips to his. the kiss starts to get a little heated, with joel running his tongue across your bottom lip, but before anything else happens you both pull away for air. ‘wow’ joel says in amazement. ‘that was..wow’ you can tell joel is stunned.

‘how about this joel, you head to your apartment, text me in the morning, and after our date, we can continue what we started here yeah?’ he nods and pulls you in for another quick kiss and then walks to his apartment. that night, joel falls asleep happy that he finally asked out the person of his dreams, and you fall asleep happy that you finally have a date with your dorky, cute neighbor. it may have taken a couple of shots and pep talks from nolan and tk, but both you and joel couldn’t be happier that he finally got the guts to ask you out that night.

taglist- @jamiedrysdales @joshsandersons @stlbluesbrat @2manytabsopen @nhlandotherimagines @iwantahockeyhimbo @ryanssuzuki @boqvistsbabe @alxvlasic

#joel farabee #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee imagine #philadelphia flyers x reader #philadelphia flyers imagines #philadelphia flyers #caitee writes

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its-short-for-jackalope · 3 years ago

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I love music videos very much and have wanted to create fan art for musicians I like for.. several years 🥲 without actually doing so (except for noahfinnce, somehow I've actually done a teeny bit of fan art for him lmao)

HOWEVER... tonight I started rewatching some of my favorite music videos and taking screenshots for reference, so I think im actually gonna be brave and try doing some shit with it soon!

here are some of the goals I have with this long-term/never-ending project. hopefully I can tick a few of them off and feel like I did stuff and grew as an artist!!! :D

actually make/draw things! at least a good number of sketches, hopefully some polished pieces too!

find a good balance between using references and using my imagination. I dont want to just totally redraw these screenshots and draw super realistically, I want to try to stylize stuff a bit!

be able to capture these artists' likenesses even when stylized

learn how to combine digital and traditional art! I think it'd be super fun and cool to try doing the sketches and inks traditionally, and then go on CSP to put color in. so maybe I can also take baby steps towards learning how to use my tablet better?

actually learn how to use CSP 😂

get some practice drawing people! poses, proportions, anatomy... could not get into it when I tried just drawing poses and doing studies, so maybe doing fan art will be the perfect way to trick myself into this kind of practice!

have fun and loosen up and get a little silly and not worry about being perfect (the no. 1 goal, tbh.) seriously, I already have a few ideas for goofy/memey drawings that I really want to do, and I want to actually do them w/o talking myself out of it or feeling like it's too dumb to share.

be able to show my appreciation for these artists i adore. they might not even see my art but I still want to put it out there in return for everything they've given me. <3

lol okay I could keep rambling forever but I wanna go to bed so that's all for now! tomorrow I might dip my toes in and start doing some Sub Urban sketches...... (also, stream his debut album HIVE, it's awesome. highly recommend.)

#jack jabbers

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faffreux · 3 years ago

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I love how much Fawful makes you happy. It genuinely makes me feel happy seeing you enjoy that

Messages like bring me to tears SO HARD OKAY… thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for expressing this to me. If I am spreading any kind of happiness by being myself then I’m even happier in turn.

Sometimes I’ll say things like “I really don’t know WHY he makes me so happy” but then I have to immediately stop myself bc truth be told I DO know…. BOY, do I ever. There’s just so much to it that it feels overwhelming to think about having to write down in a way that’s cohesive and shareable even though I have numerous friends who have heard all the details more than once, lmao. But I wanna do that sometime still… when the inspiration strikes it’ll happen bc I wanna share.

I just have a lot to talk about. There’s a reason I’m not bored rambling about the same character for almost 2 years…

*shrek voice* THERE ARE LAYERS

I just love Fawful. I love his smile, his face, his sense of style, his teeny little bit of hair, his confidence, his manner of speaking, his ability to rise up from a lower station even with his anxiety, and the fact that despite everything… he gave it his all.

And I love all of those things even with how flawed he is and while he made some very bad decisions in the process. He’s not the good guy, but he’s a guy I still relate to and look up to in a lot of ways regardless.

#IM RAMBLING!!!#sending you love anon #thank you so much!!

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scoopsgf · 5 years ago

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can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it!

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it...

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps.

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years ago

Text

A block

Loki x reader

Word count: 1 548

Summary: when a writer's block hits you, your amazing boyfriend is there for you

Warnings: angst, implied smut (teeny tiny bit) and besides that just good old fluff

A/N: kinda messy oneshot, possible typos and grammar mistakes, enjoy <3

You were lying in your bed. Raindrops were softly tapping on the nearby window, lulling you. Light from your opened laptop was illuminating your bedroom, keeping you from falling asleep.

Not the light, rather the opened tab. Word document. Empty. Not a single word. You turned your body towards wall and hid your head under a pillow.

It has been like this for at least two weeks. You used to have so many ideas, so many stories that begged to be let out of your head onto the paper. Or a computer screen.

That was a long time ago. Your head was empty now. No idea. No new adventure. No nothing.

You tried anything. Meditating, reading books and watching movies for inspiration, even writing down some of your dreams right after you woke up only to realise they make absolutely no sense.

You wanted to write again. You wanted to create. But you just couldn't anymore.

'It will pass,' you told yourself. 'It will pass and soon I'll create again. Just like before.'

It didn't pass. Not one bit. You don't even check tumblr anymore. You felt miserable even without seeing all those beautifully crafted stories written by people who actually do something instead of lazying around, like you are doing now. Curled up on your couch, watching a movie you don't even pay attention to.

You felt like the laziest piece of garbage in the world. Like, how can writing be so hard? Just sit down, hit bunch of keys and create senteces. That's it. It's THAT easy. So why does it feel like the most difficult thing to do?

You groaned and hit your face with a throw pillow. 'You're stupid. So stupid. Lazy, stupid, illiterate-'

"Darling? I'm back," Loki's voice called for you, stopping your negative train of thoughts.

You stood up and ran to hug him. You could've knocked him down with the force you collided with him, if it wasn't for his godly strength. You nuzzled his neck and murmured. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're here."

Loki wrapped his arms around you and brought you close. "I missed you as well. How have you been without me?"

You smiled at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm better now, when you're with me," you stood on your toes and softly brushed your lips along his thin soft ones in a loving tender kiss.

You felt his big hand cup your left cheek, turning your face slightly to the side and deepening the kiss. His tongue met yours in a passionate dance only you two knew steps of and danced only when you were all alone. His hand slowly slid down to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. Your fingers got lost in his coal black hair, tugging here and there, making him moan into your mouth.

You loved moments like this. When you reunited after a long separation and it was just the two of you again, two people who simply love eachother. These moments make you forget everything that troubles you. *He* makes you forget everything that troubles you. The pain and guilt over your laziness in your chest disappeares, beeing replaced by a warm love Loki was pouring into you.

After your mouths separated with a wet pop you stood there, forheads touching, eyes closed, smile playing on both of your faces.

Loki's quiet voice broke the silence. "You said you are better now, which means you were unwell before. What happened?"

You shook your head. You wanted that pain away from your chest for a little while longer. "I don't really want to talk about it. Not now."

Loki's hands moved from your waist to your hips, drawing small circles with his thumbs. "Alright. I won't pressure you. You will tell me when you are ready. I can take your mind elsewhere. Much more-," he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the side of your neck, "-pleasurable place. If you allow me."

Of course you did. You didn't want to think about anything other than him tonight.

Loki's heartbeat under your right ear slowly woke you from your dream. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his naked legs tangled with your own under your sheets.

Loki's affections took your mind off your misery, but it soon returned. It's only a matter of time till Loki asks if you'd written anything new. He always asked about your creations. His disappointed face after telling him you haven't written a word for nearly 2 months haunted you in your dreams.

It started to dawn. Loki was a morning person and with every new ray of sunlight a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if it's the first thing he asks? What would he, a skilled poet and story writer, say about you and your inability to write even a small drabble?

"Mhm, mornin' darlin'," he mumbled with extremely raspy voice and the deepest british accent you ever heard and pressed a small kiss to your temple. You snuggled into his chest and mumbled a quiet 'morning'.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

You felt his fingers run up and down your spine. "Right now?"

"Right now."

"But I wanna cuddle with you..." you pouted at him.

Loki chuckled and pecked your pouting lips. "Tell you what my love, I'll go make a quick breakfast, then we can lazy around in our bed the whole day. What do you think? Besides, I think you need it, you are working so hard all the time the word 'lazy' and 'break' probably left your dictionary."

And there it was again. The guilt. You didn't think you worked hard at all. If you did, you'd have finished all your drafts and WIPs while he was away.

You were so grateful he had closed eyes, he didn't see the sadness crawling back on your face. You forced some strength into your voice. "That sounds lovely."

Loki then stood up, put on his favourite sweatpants and padded barefoot into kitchen. You pulled his pillow to your chest and inhaled the smell of him. It calmed you down a little. But the thought of other people being productive and you just lying in your bed being SO LAZY to even make yourself a breakfast didn't leave your head.

'I can at least reread my story ideas, maybe that will start my creativity' You sat up, your eyes fell on your table where your laptop is. Where it usually is. But its place is empty.

'Fuck'

You started to panic. You remembered you left it in the kitchen. OPENED. UNLOCKED. LOKI WILL FIND IT. HE WILL SEE.

In the speed of lightning you put on some clothes and ran to kitchen.

You were late.

Loki was sitting at the table, your laptop opened infront of him. His face was the epitome of poker face. He lifted his head and looked at you standing in the doorway. "Sorry dear, I didn't mean to look through your laptop. I was just curious if you have written anything new and- are you okay?"

You didn't realize tears were running down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality.

"I'm sorry Loki," you wiped your tears.

"Why are you sorry? Writing is your hobby, not your work. You don't have to write all the time," he walked to you and cupped your left cheek, his thumb wiping new tear away.

"I know, but.... Everyone is still writing and I'm not. I mean- writing is so easy and I can't even do that anymore! I'm just lazy a-and out of imagination and m-my grammar is horrib-" Loki stopped your rambling with a single finger against your lips, making you look into his face.

"My love, whoever told you writing is easy is a filthy liar. Nothing about creating a whole world using only your words is easy. And while you can have grammar mistakes and typos here and there, I always get lost in the story I barely notice them at all. You are not lazy for taking a break."

"But this is not a break," you hid your face in his chest, hugging him to you. "I don't have any ideas. I want to write, but I don't know what about," you felt his fingers thread through your hair, caressing you.

"Then start out slowly. Write about your memories. Small parts of your life that make you smile. They are all little stories only you know and can share with the world. And sooner than you notice, inspiration will hit you again and you will write just like before. But for now, my darling, baby steps."

His words helped you, a lot. You still kept your face pressed to his chest, listening to his breath, his heart. His fingers were gently scratching your head in a calming rhythm, his other hand kept your torso pressed to him.

"I love you Loki, thank you for helping me," you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek.

"Always my dear," he kissed your forhead. "Always."

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #fluffy loki #loki fluff #domestic loki

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fletchphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Tell Me Where It Hurts

Another Varigo one shot that I started ages ago and only just finished!

Have fun!

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

“Tell me where it hurts.” The blond bluntly stated as his nimble fingers glided over the medical supplies beside him, deciding upon removing some cleansing alcohol, a wrap of bandages and some scissors before glancing up at Varian. “C’mon doll, I wanna get to sleep as much as you do.”

“Right, right..uh..here.” Varian replied, raising the blood-soaked dress shirt he was wearing to reveal a rather large gash across his stomach that, thankfully, stopped bleeding. It didn’t seem too deep, presumably only catching the first few layers of skin, though the amount of blood and the sheer length of the injury made it seem more threatening than it truly was. Hugo, however, still treated it with the utmost care as he dabbed the alcohol across carefully, murmuring an apology each time Varian winced or bit the inside of his cheek.

Few people had seen this compassionate side of Hugo, Varian could even count the amount of times on one hand how many times the blond had actually been nice to him. This time was rather different however, no longer out of necessity was Hugo taking care of him, but to be sure that he was okay. Usually it would be Nuru to act as the team medic, but Hugo had volunteered willingly to treat the injured Varian. Varian couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful either.

Truth be told, he had a very teeny tiny little non important problem - he had a rather large crush on Hugo and didn’t know how to act around the other man sometimes. Varian would catch himself trying to prolong their physical contact on its rare occurrences, such as when exchanging test tubes, he’d carefully place his hand over Hugo’s for a few seconds longer than he should. And, like most times, while his heartbeat would rise and pound like a beating drum in his ear and the tips of said ears went bright red, Hugo would continue nonchalantly as if nothing had happened between the pair. As if Varian wasn’t dying of embarrassment over how badly he’d failed at his attempt of seduction.

“Earth to Goggles. You need to take the shirt off. I can’t reach the wound.” Hugo muttered, hands lingering over the buttons to the shirt and his eyes locking with Varian’s, waiting for his consent. A lump formed in the raven haired man’s throat, though he swallowed it and exchanged a nervous nod with the other, his face reddening as Hugo took his time undoing the buttons and sliding the shirt off before continuing with his care of the wound.

Varian really hadn’t expected Hugo to take so much care about his injuries, the man being as gentle as humanly possible on the other man. Slowly, the blond began to wrap the bandages around the other man’s abdomen and, once done, his hand rose to rest on the scar across Varian’s chest. “How’d you get the other scars?”

The man gulped at the hand on his chest, moving his hand carefully to rest over Hugo’s. “I...well, when I was sixteen, I um..had to fight my friend, Cassandra. I tried to convince her that being a villain wasn’t the way and...well, she hit me with one of the rocks that’s generated from the moonstone. I guess it scarred pretty bad.” he sighed softly, the flush on his face deepening as Hugo leant down, pressing his lips to the scar before moving away.

“What about you, Hugo? What about the uh-eyebrow scar?” He smiled, his eyebow raising as his left hand cupped the blond’s cheek. This time, instead of no reaction, Hugo’s face began to flush and he swallowed, clearing his throat.

“Well, as you know, I’m way too cool for lab safety. When I was, what, fifteen, I was doing an experiment alone and uh...the glass of the beaker exploded and hit me in the eye. I was kinda lucky that I had my glasses, but uh..yeah it still hit my eyebrow and cut it open.” Hugo explained, Varian leaning forward to kiss the scar a few times, his lips ghosting over it when he was done and sighing softly against it.

Varian lowered himself slightly, coming face to face with the blond with a smile on his face and his left hand still resting on the other cheek. “Hey..” He whispered, his arms wrapping around the man’s neck as he leant forward. “How’d you get that scar on your lips?”

“Mmm...an effect of not being kissed enough. Maybe you can fix that?” He smiled softly, Varian obliging as he shuffled forwards and kissed him, slender fingers intertwining with raven hair as he pulled the smaller man closer to his chest. He shut his eyes, moving his right hand to his hip. They stayed together for a while, the men kissing and enjoying each other’s company before whining from Varian broke the kiss.

“Ow, ow, ow-” Varian whimpered as pressure was put onto his wound, Hugo moving away to lock eyes with the other man, a pained smile on his face. “Sorry I ruined the mood. You pushed against my scar.” He explained, Hugo simply shrugging as he laid back on the makeshift bed he’d set up. “Can I join you?” Varian questioned nervously, a soft smile appearing on his lips as Hugo nodded in confirmation.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that right?” Hugo thought out loud, a hand absentmindedly trailing through Varian’s hair as he rambled, Varian silently cuddling closer to Hugo and resting his head on his chest. Well, a lot had changed between them in the past few minutes, but the compliment still caught him off guard. “You’re so beautiful it takes my breath away whenever I see you because I just can’t believe it.”

“Oh, be quiet, you.” He sighed softly, his hand resting on the blond’s chest and his eyes shutting while the other twirled his hair around his index finger, soft breaths passing through his lips as he continued his rambling about the beauty of the man in front of him. Eventually, the pair drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

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

She couldn’t find Varian anywhere and, at this point, it was worrying.

Nuru searched around the camp, dew dampening her feet and the chill of the spring air hitting her arms, her sleeves doing nothing to help protect herself from the environment. Frustrated groans formed in her throat as she kept searching around for the raven haired boy. She really needed to talk to him about the next trial, finally figuring out what the cryptic writing in his mother’s journal meant in regard to solving the trial, though he wasn’t in his tent.

She went through her options mentally. Varian didn’t seem like the kind of guy to just run away and leave them, his stuff still there and him being the one to originally start seeking out the trials. He wouldn’t have gone to town or anything without telling the others at least four thousand times to make sure they knew where he was going. That was when it hit her. Her eyes moved to glance over at the emerald tent on the far end of their campsite - the one that belonged to her favourite, insufferable blond. Hugo.

Mustering up her courage, she strolled over to the tent, her arm reaching out to push the flaps of the entrance aside. There, the two men lay in each other’s arms, snoring and holding onto each other loosely. A sigh passed through her lips as she closed the flaps and retreated from the entrance. She could tell him later - for now she’d let him indulge himself in the company of the blond.

They were kinda cute together, to her surprise.

Quietly, she brought out her little photo of Amber that resided in her pocket, a flush covering her cheeks before raising the photo and placing a kiss against it. Only a bit longer and she’d be finished with this and they could be together.

Only a bit longer.

#varigo #tangled varian #varian tangled #tangled hugo #varian x hugo #hugo tangled #alchemy boyfriends #varian and the seven kingdoms #hugo x varian #nuru tangled #tangled nuru #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled the series

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iwaizooming · 4 years ago

Text

okay so bc im an indecisive and overthinking virgo bitch,, im gonna have to explain my thought process before i do anything so, feel free to ignore but ahh idk i just wanted to put this out in the universe so i can decide better.

okay so i freaking love this blog okay? like the layouts?? sexy. the url ??? sexy. my moots? sexy. my followers who frequently come by to say hi? sexy.

and i’m so so grateful to be able to build a platform like this in such a short amount of time, especially bc it’s my first blog and i didn’t start this acc knowing ANYONE.

this is just me making shit a bigger deal than it actually is but yknow, that’s my brand 😎

okay anyways here’s why i wanna (maybe) move:

1. most of my followers come from my smau i’m pretty sure. which is cool and all, but smaus attract such dead followers lmao. i’m obviously not complaining about the interactions i have rn, bc god damn i love you guys, but it’s just a teeny bit annoying when your follower & note count doesn’t grow proportionally.

2. i feel chained down by my responsibilities here. i don’t feel any motivation to continue my smau anymore, like i just don’t wanna continue it. i might wanna make another smau in the future but idk, not right now. and more people keep interacting w the smau and i feel horrible knowing that it’s most probably gonna be discontinued. i COULD delete it, but yknow, the memories 🥲

3. fresh start babyyy!! a fresh new blog with no saved tags lmao and yeah,, it’s all clean and nice.

why i still am not sure if i wanna move:

1. all the memories i’ve made here. but then again i won’t deactivate this one so ig it’s fine hehe

2. my works. i could always repost them bc i do like quite a few of them, even the stupid crack ones, so i might. this is super shallow but im scared that i won’t get as much notes if i move, but like that’s so shallow lmao whatever 🏃‍♀️

3. idk actually lol. the only reasons why i dont wanna move yet is because of the memories and like, number-oriented, extremely vain reasons. which is quite embarassing to say, but idk i still think it’s pretty valid.

———

huh. this made things a little bit clearer lmao 👩‍🦯

anyways sorry for rambling but i just wanted to like,, think. it’s not important whatsoever but babababa it’s my blog hehe i’m allowed to ramble 😁👍

what do you guys think? i’d love to hear your opinion on this but then again it’s really not a big deal lol i’m just doing the most rn 😪

#💭#not me coming to a realization while i type this out lmao

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coffee-mugz · 5 years ago

Text

Inspired by: This post!

Warning: cursing, mention of alcohol and murder (dont worry, nothing serious at all.)

Pairing: Remus x Virgil

Note: Firstly, this is unedited, secondly, I do not own these characters! They belong to Thomas.

Today was December 19th at around 8 PM.

For others, it was a normal day. A fine winter day with a faint dust of snow and chilly weather. Christmas ornaments and decorations were set up everywhere in the suburban neighborhood, lighting up the otherwise gloomy streets. Families were getting prepared for the holidays and children were excitingly nearing their winter breaks. A normal day.

But for Virgil, it was in fact a very important day. It was the day he'd turn 18, the day he'd first meet his soulmate. Well, "meet" was a bit of an exaggeration. Okay, maybe a lot, but switching emotions with their fated other for an hour was as interesting as it is useless.

And, as the time ticked nearer to 8:12, Virgil felt a rise of guilt and fear bubble up in his chest. And suddenly, everything was too much for him to bear.

The brightly flashing Christmas lights seemed to absolutely tear through his vision, too bright for him to completely register.

The laughter and cheers from the party- his birthday party- were too loud. They flooded his brain and his head pounded.

And he's reminded of those awful thoughts of doubt, his mind spiraling downwards into a dark pit he couldn't avoid.

What would they think of me?

Should I eat?

Would they think I'm eating too much?

Do I look bad?

Do I look fat?

Am I talking too much?

What if they dont like my smile?

My smile is ugly.

My makeup doesn't fit in.

My clothes look strange.

I don't fit in.

I'm strange.

Why would they want to talk to me?

My soulmate-

My soulmate will feel this.

What do I do?!

I dont want them to feel miserable.

They're going to hate me.

They're going to blame me.

What if they're doing something important right now?

What if I ruined their life by giving them a panic attack?

Virgil flinched, feeling a hand suddenly land on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. A faint whisper of alcohol could be smelled behind him, and judging the fact he hadn't brought any alcohol here since he (and almost everybody else) was underage, he already knew who it was.

"Virgin?" A deep voice called his "nickname"- if it even could be called one.

"R-Re-" Virgil stuttered, his breath still rather rapid and his heartbeat nearly exploding.

It was Remus. His best friend since middle school... and his not-so-secret teeny tiny crush.

Sure enough, Remus popped in front of him, one hand holding a bottle of beer while the other seemed to have dropped his deodorant.

"How you doing, birthday boy~? I brought the other little shits some alcohol so they could finally- woah there. You good, Virgin?" Remus ranted to him, before abruptly stopping, seeing Virgil's teary eyes and smudges makeup.

Remus took a glance at Virgil's chest, noticing it rising and falling rather rapidly despite it being mostly coveted up with Virgil's oversized hoodie.

Remus put down his bottle on a nearby coffee table, stretching his arms out as a sign that the shaking boy could hug him.

"You need some time- upstairs- away from all this shit? I get it. Roman can be such a dick-face sometimes, I want to toss him out of a ten story building too." Virgil laughed, graciously taking Remus's offer and hugging him.

Remus was warm- really warm. All of Virgil wanted to do at the moment was keep snuggling into his arms, confess even, but he knew he couldn't do that to Remus, who was waiting for nearly 2 years for his soulmate to pop up. He was a rare case, having an age gap with his soulmate. Virgil couldn't take away Remus' fated other, especially when he had been waiting for so long. That would be robbing Remus's future partner.

"Let's go to Mr. Virgin's super dark lair to see what kind of toys he has hidden away-" Remus said, quiet so that nobody else heard it, but loud enough for Virgil to punch him in the chest.

"Oof! So it looks like be got a naughty one here!" Remus let go, much to Virgil's disappointment, to dramatically clutch his chest, as if he'd been stabbed.

Virgil grabbed him by the sleeve, too afraid to make direct skin contact again in fear of Remus thinking he was strange, and dragged both of them up to his room.

Although Virgil's breathing had become more stable, his heart was still racing and his adrenaline rush has yet to fully wear off. A faint thump of guilt emerged in his chest, though he didn't know why.

Soon enough, they were by themselves, locked in a room where the only colors you could see are purple, black, or grey, accompanied by a rather Halloween type of astethic despite it being Christmas.

Virgil sat himself down on the bed, making enough space for Remus to sit tight next to him. He tossed his purple spiderweb blanket on top of the two of them and took the opportunity to lean on Remus's shoulder, panicking as he felt his ear brush against bear skin.

Virgil jolted upwards, staring at Remus, who was somehow wearing a tank top now. Virgil's eyes dashed across the room, spotting Remus's unruly leather jacket on the ground, long discarded.

"What? Emo boy can't handle my hots?" Remus asked, and Virgil could only roll his eyes and pull a bit of blanket up, so that he could lean on Remus without physically touching him.

Who knows how much farther his emotions would spike if he were to have skin-to-skin contact like before? It's already too late to stop, seeing as it was already his birthday.

Man, does time fly by fast.

"So, wanna talk about it?" Remus asked, sticking a piece of deodorant he got from who knows where into his mouth. Though, Virgil knows it's mostly marshmallow fluff. They made it together a few years ago, and it was still a long running joke.

"...Probably. But no." Virgil replied, sneaking a look at his digital clock.

8:10, 3 minutes before he'd switch.

"Mmm, why not? Y'know, you love rambling."

Virgil could only avert his gaze, his throat closing up on him.

"Virgin?" Remus asked; shaking his shoulder a bit, causing Virgil's bright purple hair to become staticky.

Fuck, Virgil thought. He really hated this- hated having to watch Remus get snagged away because he knew he wasn't destined to him. Why in the world would Remus be paired dup with him? His luck had always been bad, so this just sounded absurd to him.

"I'm sorry." Virgil meekly replied, nuzzling his head further into Remus's arm as he watched the clock flash to 8:11. 2 minutes left.

Remus looked down on him, confusion evident on his face. "Sorry for what? Sorry for making me leave my beer?"

Virgil paused, forcing down his emotions as tears welled up in his eyes. He hated this, so do much. He should have tried harder, to be good enough to stand by Remus's side. He should've been more confident, better suitable for Remus's own cocky, rash attitude. Hr should've tried to end this years ago, but what a coward he was, leaning on him to the last second.

The clock flashed to 8:12, and Virgil felt his previous regret and guilt become replaced with self hatred. If only he had been better suitable for him...

"Virgin?" Remus asked again, not getting a reply from the boy. He want used to being left in the silent. He was used to being instantly retaliated by Virgil's snarky comments, right after his own. He wasn't acting at all like the normal.

"I'm sorry for loving y-" Virgil stopped, feeling all his prior emotions immediately flush down the drain as he was suddenly filled with something else. His confession was stopped, and hid apology that followed right after escaped his mind.

Confidence, pride, arrogance, confusion, an urge to explore his entire neighborhood (and maybe even the world)- he felt all these foreign emotions suddenly overwhelm him. He stared at the clock, which now proudly blinked 8:13.

What? Dude, at least give a man his time!

Virgil was suddenly given the urge to punch it, and act...irrational.

A beam of hope sprung up in his heart, only for it to vanish seconds after it.

There are plenty of people who are irrational, brash, and arrogant like this. But Virgil, surprisingly, couldn't accept that, as his hope was reignited, as stubborn as a mule.

Because Remus was fine-

"Hick-" A small noise came from beside him, the hope in his heart glowing brighter, fiercer than it ever had before.

"Remus?" Virgil asked, his voice loud and clearm. It even shocked him, who knew he always kept his voice down in fear of being too annoying.

"D-Damn." Remus cursed, furiously wiping away at his eyes.

"R-Remus?" Virgil felt a searing pain erupt in his body, but it wasn't painful. He...enjoyed it. His body felt as if he were on fire, tears once again threatening to fall, but was held back just in time. For some reason, he couldn't accept the fact that he almost cried in front of Remus. It mad him feel...weak.

"Wow, holy shit." Remus tried to laugh it off, but Virgil noticed the glistening tears running down his arms, each one giving striking Virgil in the chest with his own sadness.

"A-Are you ok?" Virgil asked, taking his head off of Remus's shoulder, questioning whether to wrap his arms around the other. He didn't, because a small part of him doubted that this was real, but a big part of him believe it was.

"Virgil," Virgil flinched, unexpectedly hearing his own, correct name coming from Remus's mouth.

"You really hate yourself this much?" The moment he heard this, his heart shattered, finally realizing what he had done.

His soulmate- Remus, as much as he couldn't believe it- was just given...possibly the worst thoughts he had ever encountered. Self deprivations, self hatred, regret and guilt, anxiety, everything that Virgil usually burdened himself to carry was now placed onto Remus's chest.

Virgil knew how it felt, and he knew how horrible the aftermath was.

Without a second thought, Virgil tossed his arms around Remus's large stature, and although his arms weren't quite long enough to fully encase him in an embrace like Remus would usually do to him, it was better than nothing.

"I'm sorry." Remus muttered, giving a strained laugh, so unlike his unrestrained, boisterous one.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Virgil quickly shut it down, knowing himself well enough that the moment he apologizes is when everything starts getting worse and worse. He then starts thinking about what he wished he could hear from the other during these times, and although hesitant, he said it anyways.

"I love you." Virgil confessed, seeing Remus tense up his entire body.

"I love you so much." Virgil repeats, watching as Remus started to shake this time. Virgil started to worry, thinking he had done something wrong, or in the worse case, messed up their relationship.

Soon after, a chuckle could be heard, and Remus looks up, smiling happily as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Good news for you, so do I, you dick."

Virgil looked offended, an expression Remus thought he would never have seen, and watched as Virgil proudly proclaimed:

"Since when have I been a dick when you're acting like one! I even told you first- all three times- that I love you! Say it, say it. C'mon!" Virgil hissed, but relaxed after hearing a laugh that sounded more like Remus. It wasn't him entirely, but it was a lot better than before.

"Asshole." Remus fixed, grinning once again at Virgil's unsupporting gaze.

"Its true! Look at me- I radiate top energy. You're definitely a bottom." Remus said, snapping his mouth shut as he realized what he said, green eyes wide open in shock.

But he was eased out of that state with Virgil's calm, sarcastic laughter, and was once again bombarded with the fact that Virgil could definitely top somebody else, and that he wasn't entirely a bottom.

But they both knew that Remus was right in the end, neither of them want to admit it, though.

They spent the rest of their little break in Virgil's room, Virgil taking the initiative to thank everybody for coming to the party and seeing them out the door when the time had come. On the way out, everybody gave him a knowing glance as he rolled his eyes, slamming the door in their faces, leaving them in the midst of a blizzard.

Truth be told, the party wasn't really a party. At least, not to Remus who had gone to so many parties with over 30 people attending each. But to Virgil, it was enough, especially when Declyn and Roman were in the same room.

The test of their hour was spent with the two of them questioning each other's emotions, Remus asking more of them than Virgil.

"How do you even think like this?"

"I have a strange urge to eat chocolate."

"Is this why you never talk?"

"Wow, I look horrible. Did I always smell like this?"

"How the fuck did you deal with my chaotic dumbass energy? Like- Everything looks dangerous! Even that stupid broom you never use! What if it falls and trips an unlucky bitch?"

"That ceiling fan of yours is giving me major creep vibes- you never know when it's gonna fall! It's plotting against us!"

"How do you manage to sleep like this?"

Remus would continue to endlessly spill out questions after questions, cherishing this hour of his life to see everything his soulmate looked through his own eyes. And this is when he truly learned about different perspectives.

Like he said: the ceiling fan he never played attention to is always on his mind now, he never thought to use actual deodorant until now, when he thought about what Virgil would think despite him knowing very well that he doesn't give a damn. That lamp in the corner of the room? Remus had seen it before, but now he could only think about what would happen if it were to tip over.

Minor things he never noticed became so apparent in his life, and he feels horrible remembering all the times he forced Virgil to do something absolutely crazy with him (like the shopping cart incident). He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have to do that when he feels this horrible just lying down.

It was the same with Virgil. He never knew Remus experienced such a pull to the outside world until now. In fact, a 'pull' would be an understatement. He desperately wants to go outside and maybe even conquer the woods just outside of his house, but it takes every ounce of his will to stay put and stay shut inside.

It helps knowing Remus appreciated it.

Virgil hasn't had a single thought about everything that would have been in his mind. He felt...giddy, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. He hadn't felt this way for a good few years now, so it certainly came as a shock to his unprepared mind.

As the minutes passed by, the digital clock finally beeped "9:13" and the two of them felt the exact same sensation as they did an hour prior.

A drain sucked out their personality -or emotions-, and their original one filled the void, leaving the two of them in silence as they grew accustomed to their original feelings.

Virgil, as he really couldn't focus on anything for too long for the entire hour, had just processed the fact that Remus was and is indeed his soulmate. A dream come true, if not a miracle. And Remus had just processed his own train of thought, grinning wildly as he dived towards Virgil, who let out an "oof!" at the sudden force and pressure.

Soon enough, Virgil and Remus were in their usual cuddling position once again, with Virgil sitting on Remus's lap, facing him, wrapping his arms around his neck as he settles his head into the crook of it. Remus wrapped the both of them in a blanket, playing a crappy version of a scene from a recently released movie which was obviously taken in the movie theaters.

"Boyfriends?" Virgil suddenly asked, somehow growing enough confidence to ask such a question. To his delight, Remus grinned, picking up Virgil's thin body and swinging the both of them all around the room.

"Why don't we just get married? Right here!" Remus exclaimed, only to get his face pushed away and his mouth shut up.

"Married? Yeah right! You haven't even told me "I love you" yet! Now that I think of it, I'm the only one who said it, you ass! Say it!" Virgil tossed around Remus's head in all directions, only to end up on the ground, Remus's eyes spinning from the dizziness.

"I-I love you." Remus weakly muttered out, before grabbing a nearby bag of onion rings and smashing them open, picking one of the few intact rings.

He grabbed Virgil's hand and stuck the onion ring onto his ring finger. "Now, marry me?" Remus asked once again, tossing Virgil another onion ring and stretched this hand out, waiting for the other to slip it on.

Virgil blushed, hiding his red ears as he hit Remus's head rather ruthlessly and putting on the ring.

"Dammit, what'll Dee say if he finds out you proposed to me with a fucking onion ring." Virgil said, falling onto Remus's chest, staring at his new edible ring. A smile stretched out on his face, and although Remus may not have directly seen it, he knew exactly what he'd look like.

"Well, he'd be jealous! What better than to be able to eat your ring, so you can give your lover another one the next day. Y'know, Ro said it would be his "dream come true" if he could propose to his lover every day and relive the moment. So, me being me, I had to steal the number one place from that piece of shit again." Remus boasted, before proudly exclaiming, "And as you can see, it worked. You accepted it. Now I can rub it into his nasty face."

Virgil burst out laughing.

"Is that the only reason you proposed to me after being boyfriends for not even half an hour?" Remus paused for a moment, then making a gesture as if he were in deep thought. Virgil rolled his eyes at it.

"Well, I've considered you my boyfriend for the past few years already-"

"What?" Virgil sat up abruptly, shocked to hear such a thing. He didn't even remember Remus saying or acting weird at all.

"Yeah, that one time I got the both of us drunk by accident I ended up blurting something along the lines of "You're really cute" and you said that only your boyfriend can call you cute. I asked if I could be one, and you said yeah, so I called you cute again. It's really foggy since it was so long ago, but you probably forgot. You were hit by the alcohol cloud the hardest and you were younger than me, so it was obviously expected." Remus explained, then grinned at Virgil's shocked expression.

"Remember? The time I decided to burn my dad's vodka because I was pissed at him for some shitty reason. We didn't know that the alcohol would evaporate the moment we lit it on fire, and the wind pushed it to your direction first. Funny as hell looking back on it now, but it scared the shit out of me when you nearly fainted."

"No no, not that. You didnt take me out on dates and you never said you liked me."

"Uh, I did?"

"You didn't."

"I did! That time I took you to the treehouse- that was one! Then when the both of us ditched my own party to explore the woods and nearly broke my arm was another. After our shitty swimming lessons, when I took you to the cafe, that was another! Also that one time we climbed a tree and got stuck for 3 hours- that was another! All the sleepovers, dumpster diving, stealing from the old bastard and cuddle sessions were dates! And the "I love you" stuff... I'm not really good with it. I never know when the right time to say it is, so I ended up skipping that part. But still!" Remus ranted, counting all their "dates" using his fingers, while Virgil stayed silent in utter shock.

"Wait-" Virgil laughed again, "What is your definition of dates?" Remus looked at him, as if he asked the most stupid question on earth.

"No, really, what do you think a date is?"

Remus paused again, "well... it's when you're only with your lover, right? When it's only the two of us- Roman told me that. Roman... Ah, fuck! Don't tell me it's completely different!"

Remus banged his fist on the ground, spewing out more curses at his brother as Virgil's laughter only continued to rise.

"It's- HAHA- It's not completely different. It's right in a way, but you'd usually tell your partner if it's a date or if it's just hanging out. No wonder I had no idea- all those happened when I was so young! Haha, sorry."

Remus grumbled to himself, crossing his arms, but nevertheless managed to smile at Virgil's rare fits of laughter.

Remus: "Alright then- to fix everything my shitty bro did, how about a date tomorrow? In the woods." Remus smiled, and Virgil wiped away some of his tears.

"Yeah, sure. That's great."

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