#tumblr is. probably going to ruin the quality loud sigh

[sun-ea-sports]

leans on car. hey girl

Closeup. on her face

[2-fast-2-curious]

Come Around

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You’re dating Peter Parker but thirsting for Spider-Man.

Warnings: The language in this is filthy, definitely NC-17, Peter and the reader are adults and apparently being an adult means that you gain like 3498 levels in dirty talking ability, there’s unprotected sex and thigh riding.

Words: 3026

Author’s Note: I have no idea what I should title this. I spent my 23rd birthday writing this because I have no life/friends. Also watched The Punisher while I was writing and wondering if Frank Castle and Peter Parker ever cross paths when out and about fighting crime in New York City. What I would give to see that interaction… Peter Parker was such a piece of sunshine in Homecoming while Frank Castle is all doom and gloom.

On the subway back to your shared apartment, you texted Peter asking him mundane questions like if he would be home for dinner and whether or not you should wait for him to get home before starting another episode of Bojack Horseman on Netflix. As much as you hated to admit it, you and Peter had settled into a routine and become a boring domesticated couple. It didn’t help that you two hardly saw each other with his sporadic Spider-Man work schedule. The only thing you liked about Peter being gone all the time was the fact that it allowed you to keep a secret of your own.

You sighed as you entered the apartment. There was something about being inside your home that alleviated all the fatigue from your body. You wondered where this energy had been when you were at work. You slumped into the couch and opened your laptop to check on your dirty little secret. It was a blog, a tumblr blog that posted suggestive imagines and visuals for the various superheroes in the universe. Captain America was the most popular with his muscular physique and golden locks. But occasionally they would even post a little something about a certain web-slinger you called your boyfriend, those were your favourites. You typed ‘Spider-Man’ into the search bar at the top of the blog and were happy to see there was a new post.

You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed. The thought had never even crossed your mind. When you first found out you were dating Spider-Man, you were wondering how long it would take until your life was in danger. But that day never came. You probably owed it all to Peter for working so hard at keeping his identity secret. You closed your eyes, imagining what it would be like. You would probably be panicked so the adrenaline would be running through your veins, making all your senses heightened. And when Spider-Man came to save you, he would look oh so good in his skin-tight suit that showed off his masculine form. He would take care of the bad guys who had taken you and help calm you down. You’d be overwhelmed with his generosity and kindheartedness that you couldn’t contain yourself and you’d pull his head to yours in a passionate kiss. And maybe things would get even more heated when you-

You heard the jiggling of keys enter your doorway. “Sweetheart, I’m home“. Peter leaned down and gave you a kiss on your temple as you came back to reality. You watched as he pulled out a large styrofoam container from his backpack. You smiled catching a glimpse of his suit, tucked safely inside his backpack. “I stopped a stick up at a Korean restaurant in Midtown, the owner gave me japchae to bring back.“ Peter said, completely unaware of the fantasy that he just ruined.

You smiled at your boyfriend, he seemed so pleased with himself. “I’m sure you were amazing, babe, you always are.” You grabbed a plate and helped yourself to the delicious tangle of sweet potato noodles

For the next couple of day, that scenario was all you could think about. And maybe, just maybe, you had gone on PornHub and searched for erotic videos based on your boyfriend’s alias.You had fallen in love with Peter Parker but now you were beginning to realize that you also had Spider-Man as well. You fell for Peter and his goofy smile and his unrelenting kindness. But Spider-Man took those qualities to a whole other level. He spent all day helping people, putting others above himself, sacrificing his life, and asking for nothing in return. You felt that Spider-Man deserved to be rewarded, something that was a little more personal than the heaps of praise recognition he got from the general public. You wanted to give him something that was shared between just the two of you and your mind was running wild with an endless list of ideas.You decided that this fantasy was too good not to share. 

One day, you got off work early and to make the proper preparations for your fantasy real. You splurged on fancy lingerie and wore it underneath Peter’s favourite outfit of yours. A sweatshirt of his that was oversized and a pair of comfy drawstring pyjama bottoms. You finished doing your makeup just in time to see your boyfriend texting you that he would be back in fifteen minutes. You called your best friend who begrudgingly agreed to tie you up to a dining chair in the middle of your apartment. As your friend was working on getting the rope around your legs, you messaged Peter, telling him to come through the window. You told a little fib about your neighbour having a party with several loud, inebriated guests hanging out in your shared hallway.

Your friend finished tying your hands to the chair and swiftly left the apartment. The sound of your front door closing was perfectly timed with the sound of your living room window opening. Just as you predicted, Peter was in his full Spider-Man get-up with the mask obscuring his beautiful face from your view. Peter wondered why your apartment was so dimly lit and was about to take off his mask when you let out the loudest sound you could make with your mouth taped.

Peter’s head turned at record speed and the eyes of his mask widened when he saw your constricted form. “Y/N, what happened?!?!” He ripped the duct tape off your mouth and you winced, surprised how much it hurt, next time you would fashion a gag out of a bandana or something. “Spider-Man, I’m so glad you came!”

You could see Peter’s brow furrowing through his mask. “Of course, I would come, I texted you that I would be back-wait did you just call me Spider-Man?“ In all the years the two of you had spent together, you had called him Peter, even after he told you who he was and why he was always cancelling dates at the last minute despite being completely smitten with you.

You nodded. “Well, you are Spider-Man, right? Our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man? And you heard my cries for help and came here to save me.“ You fluttered your lengthy mascara-coated eyelashes for emphasis.

You knew Peter would catch on eventually. He was a smart guy and he was a superhero to boot, he knew how to pick up on context cues. “Why yes, yes I am. I’m Spider-Man and I’m here because I had a feeling there was a beautiful woman who needed my assistance. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened here?“

“Well Spider-Man, I had just come home from a bad date, slipped into my sweats when I walked into right into a break and enter happening right in my apartment.“ You smiled feeling Peter’s covered fingers running through your hair in a soothing manner. “Well the robbers tied me up, but it wasn’t long until you got here Spider-Man. Luckily they weren’t able to take anything important.“

“Aw sweetheart, I’m sorry this had to happen to you. I’m also sorry you had such a bad time on your date.“ You could tell that Spider-Man was the kind of hero who would actually listen to you complain about your non-existent love life, he was such a genuinely good person.

You sighed. “Yeah, that sucks. It’s been awhile since I’ve met a guy worth my time. I thought this one might be the one to break my dry spell.“ You looked up at Peter, strategically adjusting yourself against the restraints. Your movement caused the neckline of your/Peter’s sweatshirt to fall off of your shoulder, revealing a lace covered breast. “I even wore my best lingerie.“

Spider-Man’s eyes widened at the sight of the lace, stretched tight over your chest. He wanted to reach out and grope your chest like he would’ve normally. But one look at the red and blue material covering his hand reminded him that to you he was Spider-Man, not Peter Parker, and Spider-Man didn’t go around squeezing the breasts of women he just met.

You cleared your throat, even though Spider-Man had held back on touching you, apparently, it was totally okay to gawk at your chest like he was a teenager seeing a girl in the flesh for the first time… “Spider-Man, aren’t you going to untie me? I can’t possibly thank you properly when I’m restrained like this.”

“Oh right, sorry ma’am.“ Peter made quick work of the knots and soon you were able to move your limbs.

You got up from the chair and leaped into Peter’s arms. “Oh thank you, Spider-Man.“ You lifted up the bottom of his mask and uncovered his full pink lips. You kissed him, taking your time to test and see if kissing Spider-Man was different from kissing Peter.

Peter cupped his hands on your bottom supporting your weight. “You’re very welcome Miss.“

“If it’s okay, I’d like to do more than kiss you to thank you, Spider-Man.“ You gave him a demure smile as you took your sweatshirt off all the way. “Like I said, it’s been awhile since I’ve been well… properly fucked as to speak.“

“This reward you’re proposing sounds a bit selfish don’t you think?“ Peter ran his tongue down the side of your neck, planting soft kisses with his newly exposed mouth. “You’re going to get fucked and I’m going to make you come over and over again and what am I going to get?“

You bit your lip. “I have eyes you know… I see the way you’re looking at me. I bet you’re wondering what I look like underneath these pants, don’t you? Well, let me help out your imagination…” You hopped out of your arms and slowly shimmied your pyjamas down your hips. Bending over to give Peter the best possible view of your wet slit soaking through your panties. “See… Spider-Man, this can be beneficial for both of us.”

Peter ran a finger down the spine of your bent over form and a shiver soon followed suit. His hand continued it’s way down your bottom and gave your cheek a tight squeeze. You giggled as straightened your spine back to standing. “I like it when you touch me, especially since you still have your suit on.“ You guided Peter to take a seat on the chair you were previously bound to and straddled him. “It makes me wonder what that suit feels like against other parts of my body.“

To nobody’s surprise, Spider-Man had amazing thighs. They were thick and muscular. You had always admired Peter’s thighs and although you had thought about it a lot, the two of you had never done this before. Due to your lack of experience, your hip motions began timidly as you tested the waters of what felt right. Soon enough, you had built up a rhythm and throwing your head back in ecstasy. “Spider-Man, do you feel how wet I am? Am I soaking your thigh with my wetness.“

You continued to perform your impromptu lap dance, making his suit feel tighter by the minute. You smirked as you watched him awkwardly scratch the back of his head. It amused you how the more time you spent with Spider-Man, the more Peter Parker mannerisms snuck out. “My suit is made out of a water repellant material…“

You rolled your eyes, of course, it was, you bucked your hips and increased the pressure making Peter groan. “But I do feel how warm your pussy is, it feels so nice.”

“Even better“ Your eyes began to flutter as you felt that familiar warmth heating up your loins. “Spider-Man, I’m close…”

“Cum for me, babygirl, soak those panties for  me.“ You clung to his broad shoulders as your entire body shook.

You let out an unsteady sigh. “That was amazing.“

“Yeah? I’ll bet that’s the first time you’ve cum on someone’s thigh before isn’t.“ You nodded, rubbing your cheek against the slippery material covering his chest. Peter knew this was a new experience for you.

“I want your hard cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me Spider-Man.“ Your hands found themselves where they usually went, to Peter’s crotch, but then you realized that there wasn’t a button and fly like pants. Even your research on PornHub hadn’t prepared you for this. “Um…Spider-Man, how does this work?”

“Well, the thing is that it’s a one-piece type of deal. So there’s no way I’m going to be able to have you bouncing on my cock while I’m still wearing it.“ You moved off of Peter as he got off the chair. You smiled when you saw that his right thigh had an extra gossamer sheen due to your actions earlier.

“Oh, okay. Can I take this off?“ you asked gently running your hand down his jawline.

“Yeah sure…“ Peter agreed and shed the tight material off of his torso while you pulled the mask off of his face.

Your mouth fell when you were met with your boyfriend’s brown eyes and sweaty curls. “You’re really handsome…“

Peter chuckled. “You’re not too bad yourself.“ He pulled you close to his body and you pulled away in shock not quite expecting to feel so much of your boyfriend’s skin against yours.

“Do you…do you not wear anything underneath this?” This was completely new information for you, and not just the damsel in distress you were playing.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t really need it. The suit has netting to keep everything in place.“

“That must be some powerful netting.“ You reach down and stroked Peter’s hard cock. “There’s a lot to keep in place.“

Without his Spider-Man get up, it seemed like Peter had reverted back to being your shy and affable boyfriend. His cheeks reddened at your bold comment. “Yeah?“

“Yeah.“ Peter managed to navigate the straps and lace that made up your lingerie well enough to get you out of it. You gave Peter a quick peck on the lips and led him over to the couch. You leaned over the top of it, planting your hands on the cushions, your feet dangling. “Ever since I got this sofa I’ve been thinking of this. You’re so strong, I bet this should be a cakewalk for you.“

“I’d love to fuck that wet cunt of yours when you’re bent over like this.“ Peter used to fingers to spread the wetness between your legs. It was the first time you had been touched all night. Feeling the pads of his fingers lightly brush against your clit made you moan. You felt so sensitive, any kind of stimulation Peter gave you felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

“Wow, you are throbbing, baby girl.“ He put slightly more pressure on your clit, making your eyes close in bliss. All of the sudden, it was all gone. You turned your head, ready to beg Peter to put his hands back on you, just in time to see him licking his fingers, savouring your taste. “You are just absolutely delectable.“

“I’m ready for your cock, I want you to feel you stretching me out.“ You were getting needy. You were getting impatient and started wiggling your bottom wrapping your legs around Peter’s hips, trying to get him closer to you.

“Okay, okay. My greedy girl, I’ll give you what you need.“ Peter lined himself up and used his hands to guide himself inside you. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet. You feel so good.“ He let out a groan, no matter how often the two of you did this, he was never totally mentally prepared for how euphoric you felt wrapped around him, squeezing his length.

You simply weren’t in the mood for Peter to take his sweet time. You put more of your weight into your hands and pushed your hips back, driving his cock deeper inside of you. Peter whimpered at the sight. “Look at you, fucking yourself on my cock. You really are desperate for me aren’t you sweetheart?”

Peter held your hips still, forcing you to stop your movement, waiting for his answer. “Yeah, I’m desperate for you, please.”

“Don’t worry, I got you babygirl.” Peter began exerting more effort into his thrusts, the sound of his hips hitting your ass filled the room. Peter lean over your bent form, his hands playing with your hard nipples. His extra weight on your back pushed you deeper into the couch, further embossing your body into the structure of the couch. It meant that every time Peter bucked his hips, it caused your clit to rub delightfully against the soft velvet material.

“Peter, I’m going to…” You ground your hips, trying to get more friction onto your clit. The fabric of your couch was now completely wet.

“That’s it, darling. Let it out.” Peter whispered encouragingly in your ear. You came for him, yelling Peter’s name as he increased the pace of his movements, your arms giving out and your body falling limp against the support of your couch. Peter release came moments after yours filling you with warmth.

Your boyfriend left your spent body momentarily to go into the kitchen. Upon his return he ran a wet, warm towel between your legs, cleaning up the bodily fluids that were dripping out of you. After he was done, he wrapped you up like a human burrito in the throw blanket that you kept on the couch, laying you down. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to fuck Spider-Man.“

You yawned snuggling into your boyfriend. “Really? Because I’m not. Everyone else in the world knows you as Spider-Man, but to me, you’re Peter Parker, my boyfriend, and that’s something no one else can say. I love you.“

Peter couldn’t resist himself. “I know.“

You shook your head at your boyfriend, trying to suppress the laugh that wanted to escape your lips. “Yeah, I love you, even if that subjects me to your random Star Wars references.“

[rrrawrf-writes]

stuff i wrote at work 5

the only reason i signify that i wrote it at work means that those writings undergo (extremely minimal) editing as i type em into tumblr so idk 

anyway! this is the last thing i was able to write into my pink flowers notebook! i filled it all up!!!!!!!!!! i deserve a cookie

Lariat stared at the man hanging upside down from the ceiling and wondered why he was grinning.

“That had to be the worst escape attempt I’ve ever seen,” he informed the blond Russian. “You didn’t even try. I’m insulted, Dmitri.”

“I wasn’t trying to escape.” Dmitri didn’t seem at all bothered by the ropes suspending him from the warehouse rafters and pinning his legs together, arms secured firmly against his sides. “I had to use the restroom.”

There was something different about the quality of his voice; Lariat distracted himself for a moment trying to figure out what had changed. Maybe it was because Dmitri was no longer completely drunk?

“And you didn’t think to ask?” Lariat said, eyebrows raised.

Dmitri wrinkled his nose. “It’s always awkward, you know? Some kidnappers are fine with it, some make you pee in a bottle - I couldn’t figure which one you were.”

It was the accent, Lariat decided. It wasn’t as thick as it had been when he ambushed Dmitri the night before, lassoing the moron as easy as stealing candy from a baby. He had been loud and vicious in his swearing, nearly unintelligible from drink. Now, however, his words were clear, with hints of another language layered underneath the Russian accent.

“Other... kidnappers?” Lariat crossed his arms over his chest. Dmitri shifted a little and set himself to slowly, very slowly, spinning around in the air. “Does this happen often?”

“Well, usually I’m not the abductee,” Dmitri admitted, “but no, this isn’t my first time.” His hazel eyes crinkled with amusement. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Lariat was on his way to being thoroughly bewildered. “What?”

“I mean, usually I’d be in your shoes, right? But we never say kidnapping, per se - I just keep people in custody -”

“Why is the son of a Russian diplomat kidnapping people?” Lariat interrupted. He was now talking to Dmitri’s ear. “Why is your voice different?”

“Because I’m not the son of a Russian diplomat,” Dmitri said cheerfully. “Actually, it’s my mother who’s Russian - my father’s not. Or a diplomat. My mother isn’t, either, not a diplomat -”

“Stop talking.” Lariat stepped up to Dmitri, grabbing a fistful of his hair. That was when he noticed that the roots were a darker shade than the blond Dmitri Mikhailov was supposed to be.

“Who the hell are you?” Lariat demanded, spinning Dmitri - or whoever this was - back around. They were more or less at eye level; the bound man was looking a little red in the face at this point, from all the dangling upside-down.

“Oh, so now you asked,” he huffed, faking indignation. “After we spent such a wonderful night together -”

Lariat yanked sharply on the man’s box-dyed blond hair.

“Ow.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Lariat snapped. One of the ropes wound around his hostage, snaking around the man’s neck. “Who are you, and where is Dmitri Mikhailov?”

He answered promptly. “Eli, and on a plane over the Atlantic right now. Unless it, y’know, crashed or something. That would suck, but no skin off my back - my job’s done. I hate to speak poorly of people, but the guy was kind of a jerk.”

“Your job?”

“Bodyguard,” Eli said, then reconsidered. “More of a body double, I guess? We turned it into a bit of a recon mission. Dmitri and I, we look pretty similar at first glance, and we don’t have a lot of info on you, so I thought, hey, why not go ahead and kill two birds with one stone?”

“’We’?” Lariat interrupted. He couldn’t believe this. He and Wildcard had planned this scheme for months - and now some moronic body double had ruined everything.

“The International Library Repossession Association.” Eli gave him as stern a look as he could while dangling like a fish on a hook. “You have an overdue book, sir.”

Lariat clenched his jaw, fighting to maintain his composure. He wanted sorely to hit Eli; instead, several loops of rope joined the first around Eli’s throat, tightening. He did not seem concerned; metal glinted in between the cords around his neck.

“Who do you work for?” Lariat forced between gritted teeth.

Eli heaved a sigh. “Right, well, I’m getting a little woozy like this. You should probably move back.”

Lariat was expecting some kind of enhanced strength, since the ropes were tight around Eli’s neck, and he hardly seemed to notice, but he didn’t count on which brand of super strength this particular person had. 

He did not expect Eli to turned to solid metal, and took several quick steps back as the beams he hung from gave an alarming creak, the weight hanging from them intensifying. Lariat hurriedly summoned more of the ropes hanging from the rafters and snaking around the floors and walls, but before they could reach Eli to support his sudden new weight, the warehouse rafter twisted and broke.

Lariat watched Eli crash into the cement floor and hoped he broke his neck. No such luck - the man rolled over a second later, easily tearing the ropes from around his arms. Lariat didn’t bother trapping him any further with those ones. He’d dealt with enhanced strength before; he knew what to do. And fortunately for him, Eli didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave.

And in spite of having already fooled him once, Eli didn’t seem too bright.

Lariat glanced around the warehouse, glad he had thought to bring a few reinforced ropes along with him. He pulled a gun from underneath his suit jacket, continuing to back away. Eli seemed disinclined to follow.

The man took his time standing. He stretched his back out and kicked away a few loose coils of rope. Despite the nonchalance, he kept Lariat in his line of sight.

They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Then Lariat, not really expecting anything to happen, shot Eli in the chest.

He flinched only a little; there was no fall, no blood. Eli shook out his shirt, until there sounded a quiet tink! of metal hitting the cement floor. “That was unnecessary.”

“Never hurts to try,” Lariat said.

“Well, it hurts a little. And now there’s a hole in my shirt.” Eli pouted a moment, tugging on said garment. “Anyway. Hm. This is always awkward. I’ll just, ah, let myself out.”

He sidled around Lariat, gesturing in the vague direction of the exit. His eyes remained on Lariat, when they should have been on the ground behind him.

Two thick hawser ropes - the kind used for mooring boats - snaked around Eli’s ankles. The man grunted as he tripped and fell; he muttered a Spanish curse as the heavy cables swarmed up his legs.

Eli couldn’t tear through the thicker hawsers as easily as he had the thinner ropes. Lariat relaxed a little as the ropes bound Eli up, and he regained control of the situation.

“You know,” Eli said, craning his neck to look at Lariat, “ I’m not super into the whole bondage scene.”

“Mm. that’s a shame.” Lariat walked past Eli, trussed up neatly on the ground, and gave the ropes a mental twitch. They started dragging Eli along after him. “You should try it sometime.”

“Not while I’m on the clock,” Eli said, disgruntled. It was the first time this entire fiasco that he sounded anything less than insufferably perky.

“You’re no fun at all.” Lariat checked his watch as the cables lashed Eli into a sitting position, back against a thick pillar near the center of the room. “You’re also lucky my partner isn’t here.”

“Partner? Like... business partner?” Eli quirked an eyebrow. “Or partner partner?”

Lariat shot Eli a look. “You have a wedding ring,” he pointed out, frowning at the man’s calculating look - unless that was fake, too - but it wasn’t shiny or new.

“It’s a matter of professional curiosity,” Eli assured him. “And the ring’s so I have access to titanium.”

“Ah. I didn’t remember Dmitri being married.” Lariat ran a hand over the back of his shaved head, feeling the beginning fuzz of hair regrowth. He regarded Eli for a long moment. “I’m not going to ask again -”

“Already told you,” Eli interrupted cheerily. “Library Police.”

Lariat pursed his lips. “You’ll die here,” he told Eli. Lariat wouldn’t kill him - it would be the quickest way to reaching the top priority list for every superhero and government agency out there, and admittedly, he didn’t really have the stomach for it - but Wildcard certainly would. “And then the library would never get their books back. Wouldn’t that be a shame.”

“Oh, they’ll get their dues, one way or another,” Eli said amicably. He didn’t even look nervous - Lariat wanted to be annoyed, but he found himself enjoying the conversation, even as Eli singlehandedly ruined the entire scheme they had been building up for six months. The captive man added confidently, “You can’t kill me anyway.”

Lariat arched his eyebrows. He twitched one finger, and one of the thick ropes wound its way up Eli’s chest.

“Even tin soldiers need to breathe,” Lariat pointed out. One end of the rope lifted, probing at the corner of Eli’s mouth. The man set his jaw, and Lariat finally had the satisfaction of seeing something a little like fear flash across Eli’s face. Lariat let that sink in for a moment, pretending to think, and then amended, “But, you know, metal is a great conductor for electricity.”

“Hey, you know what else is a great conductor?” said a voice from behind. Lariat whipped around, reaching for his gun, to see an actually blonde woman standing there. She shoved a tazer into his chest and said, “Human bodies.”

The ropes slackened as Lariat hit the ground, twitching. Eli shrugged them off and sent his savior a grateful look.

“You took your time, Scopes,” he said, disentangling his feet from the heavy cables.

“Me?” Scopes snorted, resetting her stun gun. “You said you’d be out in ten minutes, tops.”

“I didn’t think he’d have these monster things,” Eli complained, standing up. He dropped his transformation, skin turning from steel grey to tanned flesh. He felt instantly lighter. Frowning down at the dark-skinned man on the floor, he asked, “How hard did you hit him?”

Scopes admitted, “It might’ve been set a little high. He should be fine.” She nudged Lariat with the toe of her boot, then jumped when a rope near him twitched. “Let’s get him cuffed and get the hell outta dodge, yeah?”

Eli agreed. Scopes had to provide the handcuffs, and he propped Lariat up against the same pillar he’d been bound too just a moment ago, cuffing his hands in front of him. He didn’t seem fully unconscious, at least, but the man definitely had no idea what was going on. “I’m surprised you got the drop on him like that - I thought he was better.”

“Well, you did a good job distracting him,” Scopes said, clicking her tongue. “I swear, I think I saw him drool while he was looking at you.” She ducked away as Eli good-naturedly swatted at her arm. “He seriously threaten to shove rope down your throat? That’s pretty kinky.”

“Please stop.”

“Seriously, I heard him saying how handsome you were on the phone last night,” Scopes went on with a wicked grin. Eli rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

“You get the book?” he asked Scopes. She nodded, pulling a tiny moleskin journal from her jacket pocket and wiggling it at him. “Man, I don’t think he got my joke earlier. He must’ve thought this was only about Mikhailov.”

“What joke?” Scopes asked, walking backwards to keep an eye on Lariat as they headed for the exit. Eli, in his turn, watched the ropes around them in case they came back to life.

“I told him I was library repo.”

“That’s dumb,” she scoffed.

“You’re dumb,” Eli said, indignant.

“Your face is dumb,” Scopes sniffed.

“Your butt is dumb.”

“Don’t talk about my butt that way.” It was Scopes’ turn to punch Eli in the arm. “I’m telling Daniel you were flirting with another man.”

“Aw, no,” complained Eli. “I just got him to stop worrying about me and Miller.”

[adorkablephil]

Fic: Terrarium

Summary: Dan builds a terrarium after a difficult week, but tragedy strikes. Rating: G Word Count: 2114 Genre(s): Fluff, hurt/comfort, friendship, romance if you squint Trigger Warnings: None Author’s Note: Thank you to my muse, @vivianadichiara, for the original germ of the idea! Also on AO3 here

Terrarium

It had been a hard week for Dan: a tiring week, a draining week. He’s the sort of person who needs a lot of down time, a lot of time to just soak in solitude and peace, and he hadn’t been getting a lot of that lately.

I think he was already in a slightly fragile place because of the holidays. Gamingmas had been fun but demanding, and then he’s never in the best shape emotionally after spending time with his family. I don’t think they understand him very well, and they don’t tend to give him much time alone, so I think it’s a little overwhelming. I can understand it—they don’t see him often and so they want to talk to him while they can—but it seems to usually leave him fairly drained. I think this year it was helped by the new family dog, because that’s all Dan could talk about when he got home. He seemed to derive a lot of peace and relaxation from just cuddling the dog.

I wish we could get a dog. Maybe when I stop killing the houseplants and Dan starts remembering to use lip balm. Maybe when we aren’t so busy. I really wish we could have a dog. I think it would make us both so happy. And I think it would be good for Dan.

But back to Dan’s difficult week. He hadn’t been back from his family visit long before he began work on his meme video, and I have to admit I didn’t think that was the best idea. He was already seeming a little emotionally fragile, and now here he was actively asking his viewers to mock him. Sure, he enjoys mocking himself—making all those little sarcastic, self-deprecating comments both privately and publicly—but I know he’s more sensitive than he likes to admit.

He spent five days going through the memes that viewers submitted. He just ensconced himself in his sofa crease and scrolled and scrolled. I supplied him with Ribena several times a day, but he rarely moved except to make dinner each night. I’m a hazard in the kitchen and a rubbishy cook, but Dan’s pretty good at it, so he tends to cook for us more than I do. He seems to find cooking relaxing, too, so it seemed like a good counterbalance to the meme work.

During those five days, as I sat beside him on the sofa or wandered in and out of the lounge, I often heard him laughing out loud at his laptop, but just as often heard him sigh or saw his mouth turn down at the edges and his forehead wrinkle a little in that way I hate to see.

The fans’ mockery of his peace signs seemed to hit him hardest. I knew he was uncomfortable having his picture taken—never feeling entirely comfortable with his physical appearance or his status as a “famous person,” and I knew he felt especially awkward about his deep dimple, which he tends to turn away from the camera—and the peace sign was a way he felt like he could take control of the uncomfortable situation and turn his “fame” into something ironic, making fun of himself before anybody else could do it. But he ended up relying on it so heavily that it stopped being ironic and the fans had begun to actively make fun of him for it. I could tell he felt almost like a security blanket had been yanked away from him. What was he going to do now when fans wanted photos? I’m always fine with just smiling and hugging them, but Dan gets so awkward. I felt bad for him. Then a fan posted a photo of him on Twitter giving a thumbs up, and that was mocked as well. Dan tweeted a response asking if he should just cut his arms off and would that make everyone happy, and I knew there was more bitterness in the words than he probably would like anyone to know.

After five days of scrolling through the memes, he had chosen a few and recorded his video. He seemed exhausted afterward, not wanting to cook dinner that night, so we just phoned out for pizza. He barely spoke to me, just watching the television and eating silently. I left him to his quiet.

He spent the entire next day editing the video. He settled himself in front of the computer for a good twelve hours, and I could hear him grumbling and talking to himself while he worked. Eventually, he seemed satisfied with the result and set it to start uploading and emerged from the room like a bear leaving his cave.

It was another pizza night.

We’d gotten tickets for the Harry Potter play, and I’d hoped that would be something that would help take Dan’s mind off his own issues for a while. I completely lost myself into that fictional world, but Dan seemed restless beside me. I think he was distracted by the fan who sat beside us, watching our every move and facial expression. I tried to just ignore her and enjoy the show, but Dan seemed self-conscious and uncomfortable, perhaps because he was already feeling sensitive to fans’ invasiveness after dealing with the memes? At any rate, Dan didn’t seem to find the entire day and evening of Potterdom as enjoyable as I did, and I wondered what I could do to help. It seemed like he was becoming more tightly wound every day.

The Sherlock finale didn’t help. We were both disappointed, but when the episode was over Dan ranted to me for a solid two hours about how it had ruined the series for him. He was very worked up.

When the DIY terrarium arrived in the post, I thought it was a perfect solution. “Take some time to yourself,” I suggested. I knew how much he’d been looking forward to crafting his own little world in this glass bubble, a world untouched by fans or fame or expectations. I urged him to spend some time alone in his room, not bothered by even my quiet presence, and express his creativity in this completely different way. “You’ve had a rough week,” I acknowledged, wanting him to know that I understood. “This will do you good.”

He smiled weakly and thanked me, retreating to his bedroom with the large cardboard box in which the terrarium elements had arrived. He was in there for nearly two hours, though I don’t know if he spent the entire time working on his project. I didn’t bother him. That is … until the crash.

It was the saddest crash I’d ever heard, because I knew immediately what it meant.

I ran to his room and stood in the doorway, seeing my friend staring in silent dejection at his bedroom floor. At his feet, a pile of sand, rocks, and shards of glass showed what had happened. He seemed frozen in disbelief and horror, but then he glanced up at me and our eyes met for a long moment. His lips twitched slightly, and I knew that meant he was seeing the humor in the situation. We both began to laugh, and if his laugh gained a hysterical quality after a while I couldn’t blame him.

“Okay,” I said firmly. “You’re going to go play the piano or scroll through Tumblr or play something on the Wii or whatever—something totally relaxing and peaceful—and I’m going to clean up this mess.”

“Phil,” he sighed. “You’ll cut off a hand or something, messing with all this glass.”

“I’ll be careful,” I insisted. “I don’t want you to worry about this. The point of tonight was for you to get some peace, so I want you to do that. Let me deal with this.” He hesitated. “Please?” I asked, my voice soft. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist that.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his head hanging low. He shuffled out of the room, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowed, but stopped in the doorway to hug me tightly a little longer than usual. He didn’t hug me often, so I relished the contact and hugged him back just as tight.

He wandered off to the lounge and I painstakingly cleaned up the broken pieces of his terrarium. I saved the rocks in case he might want to do something else with them, but threw out the moss and sand and broken glass. I was careful not to cut myself, not wanting to give him something else to worry or feel bad about.

When I’d hoovered thoroughly and his bedroom floor was as clean as before the terrarium tragedy—possibly cleaner—I walked into the lounge to see him slouched on the sofa, his laptop on his knees. I glanced at the screen and saw that he was scrolling through an aesthetic blog on Tumblr.

“Are you wanting to be on your own?” I asked gently, not wanting to invade his solitude if he needed time alone, but his face when he glanced up at me was filled with a deep sadness I couldn’t resist. I immediately sat beside him and pulled him into my arms. He hugged me tight again and I heard him sniff into my shoulder. I didn’t let him go for a long time, feeling his back shake with his silent tears. I waited until his body was still again and then slowly released him, pulling away slightly to let him wipe the moisture from his face. I was glad he didn’t look embarrassed. He could always cry in front of me—he knew I would never judge him or mock him for anything. I would always accept him, just as he is.

I had an idea. “Remember back when you were in uni, when you would come visit me in my flat?” I asked him. He looked confused for a moment, not knowing where I was going with this. He nodded. “Remember how you would sleep in my bed with me?” He smiled slightly and nodded again. With his reddened eyes, that small smile looked beautiful, like sun peeking from behind heavy clouds. “Want to come cuddle with me in my bed for a while?”

It was a risky suggestion. Cuddling wasn’t something we’d done in a long time, not since the fan shipping had made such behavior seem like it meant something more serious than either of us felt comfortable contemplating, let alone initiating. But this seemed like the moment, a moment when I just wanted to hold Dan in my arms and make him feel safe and loved and accepted and understood. And maybe a moment when he would be able to accept that kind of comfort from me.

He bit his lip for a moment, and I noticed that his lips were chapped again. He doesn’t take care of himself as well as he should. That’s why I need to step in sometimes. He hesitated a long moment, then nodded slightly, his eyes downcast.

I didn’t take his hand or anything so intimate. I just stood and turned to walk to my room, turning back  once to make sure he was following, which he was, his eyes still on the floor, tears visible in them again. When I got to my room, I turned back the duvet and climbed in fully clothed, and he followed me with no further hesitation but then seemed uncertain what to do. I pulled the duvet up to cover us and then wrapped him in my arms, pulling him close to me so that his head rested on my chest near my shoulder, his forehead pressed to my chin and his short hair tickling my cheek. He wrapped an arm around my waist and scooted closer so that his body pressed against my side all the way down to our socked feet. He was warm and soft against me, and I closed my eyes to focus on the way he felt in my arms as his shoulders begin to quake slightly again and felt moisture begin to wet my t-shirt. I tightened my arms around him and let him cry as long as he needed.

Slowly, his body stilled, and I eventually realized that he had fallen into a peaceful sleep. It was early in the evening for either of us to go to bed, but nothing on earth would have persuaded me to wake him in that moment, so I just held him gently, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, and gave him some of the peace that he needed.