#Its fine anyways its like just a scratch he's getting stabbed all the time

[hellsdogs]

𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐃𝐀𝐈 & 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈

       @wellfell asked for an incorrect quote

[eggcats]

Radiostatic fic, where when Vox is watching the hotel prepare for the Extermination and is like “they're going to FIGHT?!” he (internally) freaks out and decides to use the opportunity to try to get a deal out of the princess of hell himself. After all, he has the tech to fight - Angelic Security - it'd be remiss of him to not offer it to the princess and raise his status over that old timey prick!

–

“Vox, you of all people know that Angelic Security shit is a scam. Get your ass back in the chair.”

“Nonsense, Velvette! It's simply…untested. And what better way to beta test its worth than by using it against a direct assault from heaven?”

“If you die, I'm taking your room.”

–

So he goes over to the hotel to offer his help.

(Vaggie tries to stab him when he asks for a deal in exchange, and he doesn't know why he's so desperate to help, so he decides to offer it free of charge).

Alastor tries to veto it entirely, citing how all of his technology is both flashy and useless, but he's outvoted by Charlie. (She doesn't trust Vox, nor does she believe in his tech, but she's not in any position to not accept help where she can get it - at worst, she figures it doesn't work and Vox abandons them).

Alastor and him ignore one another to the best of their abilities - they're both too busy (and stressed) to even really bother with their normal hostilities. The most they do are just a few snarky lines whenever they cross paths, but overall it's fine. (Vox will absolutely not admit to himself that it's kind of nice to not be at each other's throats, for once. They've even had to work together once or twice).

So now Vox is struggling to help the hotel with the oncoming assault, and convinces himself that he'll be long gone before any real danger arrives - he's only here on the off chance they survive to up the status of the Vees. (Totally no other reason).

Except. He doesn't leave the night before, and surprises even himself by showing up ready for the fight.

And the fight actually seems to be going really well! (Vox refuses to acknowledge being impressed by Alastor’s shield, even to himself).

But then. Not too long after the shield breaks, Adam appears. And Vox doesn't understand why he feels like his heart has stopped for the second time. He does his best to ignore it, but then Adam effortlessly kills Pentious and all he can think about is the same thing happening to Alastor.

(He can't die like that loser, I'm the only one allowed to kill him! There's no way that pretentious angelic prick took him down!)

When Lucifer finally arrives to take down Adam, Vox disappears. He will find Alastor, because no one but him is allowed to kill him. He refuses.

Vox finds where Alastor was injured, but with him not being there Vox knows there's only one place he'd go - his radio tower. And he's right! He finds Alastor, alive! (Vox does not admit, even to himself, the blatant relief that goes through him).

Alastor does his best to defend himself, assuming that Vox is there to end him. However, Alastor is barely functioning and despite his best efforts, Vox isn't deterred.

–

“I'm here to help you, asshole! Let me see that injury so we can fix it, and then we can try to kill each other!”

–

Vox refuses to take no for an answer, and does stitch up Alastor's injury. (Vox cannot believe Alastor even survived it).

He succeeds in closing his wound, and ends up looking like he's lost a fight to a badger - covered in scratch and bite wounds. Vox complains about it the entire time, but he's secretly relieved Alastor is alive enough to not take his help lying down.

Anyway, after his help, Alastor finally gets himself ready to return to the hotel. (When he first stands up, he falters and tries to catch himself with his staff - obviously it fails with it broken - and Vox catches him instead. They refuse to look at each other as Vox helps Alastor leave his radio tower and walk back to the hotel).

It's not until Alastor asks Vox how long before he can expect to be on the news that Vox realizes he has no intention of letting anyone know that Alastor is injured. (Alastor obviously doesn't believe him, but Vox does keep quiet about it. He doesn't even tell Charlie when Alastor does his best to keep it from her, as well).

It's not until they arrive with the brand new hotel, Lucifer being present, and everyone recovering after the failed Extermination, that Vox realizes he intends on staying at the hotel, even without his original excuse.

(He needs to make sure Alastor recovers, after all).

[charismabee]

Thinking about the Hunted and the Paranoid They'd be such a force to be reckoned with if one of the others got hurt (assuming separate bodies for my convenience). They'd both immediately be in protective mode because a) injured member of the flock, susceptible to preditors, must protect until healed and b) if its not properly treated it might get worse, it might get infected and then they'll die and a piece of the group will be lost and then they'll all start dying and everything will be terrible forever.

So whoever is injured is dragged to the nest or whatever place is currently safest to be fussed over by the Paranoid while the Hunted watches over them. I can see the Hunted being like 'I'll protect you' and sitting on top of them, covering their body like an overprotective blanket while Paranoid worries over them being crushed or suffocated by the protective cuddle. They're fine Hunted is like 90% fluff and feathers. Not that heavy, perfect blanket. Everyone who isn't injured has to avoid them because Hunted will lash out if you get too close to the injured person he's protecting, abs then they get stuck in there with the injured person because they've been scratched.

I can see the others reacting in a variety if different ways to this.

Hero, Broken, Opportunist, and Smitten would probably enjoy the attention.

Hero a bit more bashful and grateful for the help even if its excessive which it probably is.

Broken being a mix of shocked that anyone would be nice to him and mopey about how he doesn't deserve it and what's the point in helping him. He's just going to get hurt again later anyway.

Opportunist takes the opportunity (ha) to get attention and affection and conformation that everyone likes him because let's be honest with ourselves he may act cocky but that man is desperate.

Smitten is a weird one. He's the type to be all 'these five stab wounds are nothing in the face of my dedication and love', but he probably loves being taken care of. He would prefer if it was the princess though.

Cold and Skeptic would just put up with it.

Cold doesn't care enough to stop them, though he will tell them that he's fine and they're being stupid and his broken arm isn't a problem, pain isn't a bad thing, they don't believe that and Paranoid tries yet again to explain to him why pain is bad.

Skeptic knows it's excessive but he also knows it'll soothe their worries if he lets them confine him to the nest for a week. He can do his philosophy in there it isn't a huge deal for him. He gets to pester them about the inner workings of their minds while he's there too, enrichment.

Cheated, Contrarian, and Stubborn would complain the whole time.

Cheated would so be a whiner about the whole thing. He hates being hurt, and he hates being taken care of even more. It's like an admission that whatever hurt him won. Which it didn't. He'd be even more upset if they didn't fuss over him though because that wouldn't be fair.

Contrarian would hate being stuck in one place for an extended period of time. Just knowing he's not allowed to leave makes him want to really bad, plus he gets bored easy and Hunted keeps puffing up and hissing at everyone until they leave so he can ensure Contrarian is safe so he only has these two worryworts to talk to and they're no fun to wind up because they're too busy fussing to react to his japes and such.

Stubborn would hate being seen as weak. He doesn't need to be protected or patched up, he's stronger than that. They'd still get him to let them do it, but like the Skeptic it's only for their piece of mind. He still complains the whole time.

Hunted would hate being injured and having Paranoid fuss over him. He doesn't like staying still. He'd probably sit through it though because he's objective enough to understand that if injured he does need to heal. After all, how will he evade preditors if injured?

Paranoid I could see appreciating the Hunted watching over him. He'd patch himself up tho, no one is getting near him while he's hurt, Hunted helps keep everyone else away though so it works.

[milkyplier]

“C’mon, Vet, it’s just a scratch,”

Twilight tries to reassure the fussy Veteran as he presses his hands against the recently acquired puncture wound in the Rancher’s abdomen.

“This is hardly a scratch, Rancher,” Legend snaps, switching to just one hand as he rummages around in his bag. “You’re bleeding out.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Twilight teases, and it’s true. “I’m not bleeding out, just bleeding a little much for our comfort.”

“I’d rather you weren’t bleeding at all,” Legend’s face is set in a grimace as he pulls his hand out of his bag with a thick square of gauze. “No potions; think I gave my last one to the champion.”

“Fine, it’s not a potion-worthy wound anyways,” Twilight replies. “Other people will need one more than me.”

“You’d better hope not. If I’m out of potions, chances are everyone’s out of potions.”

Twilight winces at that. He’s right; Legend always carries more potions than everyone else, true to his nature. Movement behind the Veteran catches his attention and he sees a bokoblin drawing back its bowstring.

“Vet, watch it—!” He yanks Legend down to the ground, flinching at the thwack of the arrow against the tree he’s leaned against.

“Good catch,” Legend thanks him quickly before pulling out his sword and charging at the ‘blin. “Don’t you dare stop applying pressure to that!”

Twilight grins. Ever the worrier, Legend is, and he’s been worse after the rancher’s brush with death back at the inn. Well, everyone has, but he’s noticed it most in Legend. The prickly, snarky Veteran, who has out-adventured them all before the age of eighteen, has turned out to be quite the caretaker.

Even now, Legend doesn’t stray far from Twilight’s position against the tree. After killing the bokoblin archer, he’s fallen back to a defensive position just in front of Twilight, and none too soon—another wave of monsters bombards teh once-peaceful clearing and the Veteran has his hands full defending the vulnerable Twlight.

As for the Rancher himself, he quickly begins to feel guilty. The stab wound isn’t anywhere he’s ever been stabbed before. Even if he is tasting blood and bleeding a tad bit profusely, he should be able to fight. But when he tries to stand up, he ends up getting dizzy and sitting back down heavily. It takes him back to when the dark lizalfos first hurt him, further urging him to get up and fight—he doesn’t like having to sit here as the anxiety of past events nags at him.

It becomes unbearable when Legend gets thrown across the clearing by a moblin and doesn’t get up immediately. Twilight is on his feet faster than he realized, almost sprinting towards Legend’s position, sword drawn. His wound throbs violently but adrenaline masks it well. Twilight yells as the Moblin raises it’s club above the Veteran’s stirring form, and throws his sword at the creature’s back, effectively catching its attention.

It turns, looming over Twilight and obviously burning with rage. Twilight, having lost his sword and being remarkably unprepared to be barreled over by a creature twice his height, turns to at least distract it long enough for Legend to get up. He leads it back towards the tree he was just under, and is almost there when a sharp stab of pain through his gun sends a shockwave through the rest of his body. He must black out for a second, because when he tunes back into the world, he’s lying on the ground and the Moblin is dead.

He sits up and almost immediately regrets it when the world starts spinning and his gut erupts into searing pain. He inhales sharply, triggering a coughing fit that ends with blood on his hands and dripping down his chin. He hates the why his heart races at the memory of the last time he was coughing up blood.

Evidently, he isn’t the only one having flashbacks. Sky is kneeling in front of him, gently slapping his cheeks to get him to focus. Twilight smiles at him reassuringly. This has nothing to do with the dark lizard. He won’t resist potions or fairies this time, because it’s a regular wound. He grasps Sky’s hand, trying to get him to realize this isn’t like last time and there’s no need to worry. Not as much, at least.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. “You have to help the Veteran.”

“Captain’s got him,” It’s Sky’s turn to reassure. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Twilight can do that, easy. He must be more drained than he realized, though, because the next thing he knows he’s being woken up, despite not recalling when he fell asleep. There’s a bandage wrapped tightly around his middle. The battle is over by now and the clearing is silent, everyone gathered around him.

“We’re ready to move on,” Sky says softly. “Can you stand?”

He’s quick to nod, and even though it hurts he’s able to get to his feet. He searched around for Legend, and finds him, seemingly asleep, and being piggy-backed by Time. The bandage hides the wound on the side of his head but not the blood that runs from it.

“Is the Vet alright?” Twilight asks, and Sky nods, and then hesitates.

“Well…he’s not dead, but he’s got a pretty bad concussion. We’re out of potions and fairies, so we’ll need to find a town, and soon.”

“Portal,” the call comes from up ahead and only Wind seems to have the energy to bemoan it. One by one, the battle-worn and weary heroes resign themselves to their fate, and walk through the portal without a word.

* * *

Hylia herself must have decided they deserved this break, because they were let out at the front gate of Twilight’s very own Kakariko Village. They’re able to get their hands on a couple potions—it is unfortunately in the middle of the night, so they’re only able to get a few using Twilight’s reputation as the town hero—and several people’s conditions are improved. For the first time in awhile, the heroes spend the night in beds and no one is in too much danger of dying—although, Legend’s concussion is bad enough that Hyrule insists on watching him through the night, even after he’s given a bit of potion, just to be sure.

The night passes without incident, however, and the next day they purchase almost every potion Kakariko has to offer and Twilight finds himself, completely healed, sitting on the edge of his bed, enjoying the peace and quiet.

A knock on the floor interrupts the silence, and Legend enters. He leans against the bedpost next to Twilight, and is quiet for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says presently, “for saving me.”

Twilight smiles. “Of course. I’m always happy to help preserve your life.”

They fall into a slightly awkward pause.

“I should also thank you,” Twilight remarks. “For taking care of me.”

Legend shrugs. “It wasn’t much. Just a piece of gauze. Didn’t even do that much to help in the battle, I managed to get myself a concussion and if Sky hadn’t stepped in, you’d be dead.” Twilight hears the bitterness in the statement.

“You did a lot.” Twilight says. Legend raises an eyebrow, and Twilight is ashamed to say he can’t think of anything regarding that particular battle that would disprove Legend’s point. “It meant a lot to me, anyways.”

“Glad to help,” Legend nods.

Another pause.

“I…guess I should say sorry.”

That catches Legend by surprise. “What for?”

“I could have been more accepting of your help. You were just looking out for me and I tried to reject it.”

“Because you wanted someone else to get that help,” Legend shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re apologizing for protesting out of selflessness.”

“Well…no, no one really needed the help at the time. I was just in denial, I didn’t want to admit I’d gotten hurt and couldn’t fight. Again.” Twilight frowns, once again remembering the last battle that nearly killed him.

“Water under the bridge,” Legend says breezily. “I’ve done it before, we’ve all done it before, we still do. It isn’t in our nature to be useless, especially not in a fight.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Twilight snorts. “Anyways, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Don’t let it weigh you down.”

The ease with which the Veteran gives out his grace makes Twilight smile.

“You’re a big softy, you know that?”

Legend glares at him sharply, feathers obviously ruffled.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I already have the Sailor calling me soft, I can’t have you doing it too.”

“It’s technically too late.”

“Shhh.”

“At least I know why your dark world form is a rabbit.”

Legend’s glare turns murderous. “I’m going to bury you.”

“I love you too.”

“Almost dying has made you almost as insufferable at the Captain, you know that?”

Twilight just laughs.

[bloodlustngore]

I am mad! - Maggie

I know I promised a JJ oneshot next but I have completely lost motivation to write for her or Emily right now so the best I can do is bring a oneshot out of my favourite walking dead woman Maggie, anyway enjoy ;)

Can it be classed as a oneshot its almost 800 words long?

This is a Maggie x fem!reader

Warnings: talk of injury/being stabbed but not too detailed, (is that enough for a warning).

Y/n, Maggie and Negan had been split up due to a small horde of walkers, whilst out in the city. During the whole ordeal, Maggie had been injured, a wound on her stomach, it was quite deep but Maggie being herself, she was stubborn about it. Not wanting to waste any time.

Luckily Y/n, Maggie' girlfriend had medical supplies, but of course Maggie only insisted on her cleaning it and wrapping a bandage around it.

They had to settle down for the night, no sight of Negan but both women knew he would catch up eventually to them. They held up for the night in a run down apartment building, clearing out walkers on the floor they decided to stay on, blocking the door in case any walkers decided to pay them a visit.

Maggie winced from the pain of the wound, it wasn't anything walker related, luckily. They had gotten into a bit of a fight with two other humans...who really didn't seem human anymore, and one of them had managed to practically stab Maggie in the process of fighting. Y/n sighed, hesitant to bring up the wound knowing Maggie would be stubborn. The brunette hated seeming vunerable, hated standing still for too long and she hated showing that she was in any pain. But Y/n was the only one with her right now that she would show this vunerability.

"Maggie, it needs stitches. You and I both know." Y/n mentioned. Her girlfriend rolled her eyes at her. "I'm fine. Its just a scratch." Maggie replied.

"No, you're not fine. You have almost passed out twice from losing blood. I know that bandage has soaked up half of it, but it really needs to be closed." Y/n mentioned. Y/n was by no means a nurse or doctor, but being in an apocalypse teaches people a few things. So stitching up a wound was a cake walk. Y/n sat in front of her girlfriend, with her back pack beside her "lift up your shirt" Y/n ordered.

All Maggie did was sit back on her hands, a smirk plastered on her face. "Don't give me that look, I'm being serious." Y/n added.

Maggie laughed at her girlfriends response "I wasn't thinking anything" she bit her lip, and that was an instant tell. "Mhm." Yep Maggie was busted.

"Lift. Up. Your. Shirt." Y/n repeated, she sounded mad and Maggie knew that there wasn't time for her to be stubborn. So she lifts up her shirt, revealing the blood stained bandage on her abdomen.

"Thank you" Y/n replied, very annoyed. She carefully removes the bandage, getting some stuff from her backpack. A clean patch, needle & thread that they found in a hospital used for stitching a wound shut.

Maggie moved her hand and put her index finger underneath Y/n' chin, making her girlfriend look in her eyes. "Are you mad?" Magpies asked.

"I am mad! You don't need to pretend around me Maggie, I know you hate being vulnerable, but you need to stop being so stubborn because I care about you and it upsets me when you have no regard for yourself." Y/n mentions.

Maggie gives Y/n a sad smile, she was about to lean in to kiss her girlfriend but Y/n went back to the task of patching her up. Using a piece of clean fabric and putting some disinfectant on it, Y/n presses it lightly on her girlfriends wound. Maggie winced, she knew it would sting.

"I'm sorry if this hurts you, Maggie" Y/n apologised beforehand. As she got the needle and thread ready to stitch up the wound. "It's okay, I'm used to it." Maggie added.

After what seemed like forever, Y/n had stitched the wound on her girlfriend and patched it up. "Please don't pop any stitches." Y/n mentioned but it would be difficult to not do so, and both women knew that.

Y/n leaned down to Maggie' patched up wound kissing above it gently. Before looking back in her girlfriends eyes, inching closer to her as they sat on the floor. Maggie smirked again, putting her shirt back down and taking Y/n by surprise as she moves her onto her lap in one swift motion.

"Maggie your stitches!" Y/n warned. "I'm sorry, Y/n." Maggie added. "I just can't help myself" Maggie chuckled. Pulling Y/n into a kiss, attempting to not pop the stitches she just gave her.

[comvi]

silver time silver hi silver.

silver does not like any creature (but whisperer and lucky.)

silver's spikes cannot be controled, "standing up" as a reaction to stress and worry.

silver feels calm and safe around whisperer

silver learnt how to wag his tail from lucky

despite not liking chief for talking to whisperer (it thinks scavs are evil, as they are the ones making rumors about it.)

rumors about it are: "It's an alien!" (made silver get sharp claws on its "slugcat paws")) "It's a weapon for someone!" (Made spikes form on it.") "It lures people in with its mimicking!" (Made it learn to "speak") "It's just alive goop!" (Made silver drag its tail.) "Its unbound!" (Made it grab people.) not all of them but whatever.

silver is perfectly fine with whisperer touching them. but calls him off from it cause they dont know what would happen.

silver's pearls are called boons. What do boons do? help whisperer directly. holdon ima paste some things. Voice, you know anything about this thing? Bring it closer to your eyes can you even see? whatever. OH WHAT THE What? whats wrong? what is it? Uhm...throw it away! what happened to being poetic. and why whats it do Uhm... not good! just...dont keep it! i cant trust you, im asking ...it about it. You better not oh yes i will. Little thing, you are bleeding in MANY places. i'd like to see you walk. You know i can walk. You have 3 seeping marks on your chest, leaking blood, you nearly got your foot-paw bit off. Your arms bleeding and infected, You have scratch marks all over you, and your ear is also bit. Yes, and? ...fuck you. You two. I ran outside, pretty sure it would be there anyway. and it was "Hey!" it seemed.. "happy?" to see me? i hopped down and accidently dropped the pearl i tripped over it and fell flat on my face... embarrassing. i sat up and it somehow was in front of me, tail...wagging... when could it do that? "Y-you came back! H-HH-Hiello!hi!" "You said like all those words wrong but hi." "Why are you--B-BB--B" it covered its mouth "Why you back?" "The uhh...gift? what is it?" i felt the ground, still staring up at it... spooky. "O-O-Oh! it..b-bb-boon!" "a what." the fuck is a boon. "P-P-PLEAsENO!-Place... it onsomething!!" why does it seem so happy... good for it? "What will it do..?" "D-DONT!D-Depends, let me see..." Without warning it yanks it from my paw and holds it close... reading it? "Boon: circle of healing." "Why did you." why. "whydid you say that in perfect speech." i dont. "idont like how you did that why didyoudothat." it ignored me and placed it back on my paw. WHAT! NO IT CANT! cant... what? "I-T-Ilike you enoug.h...T-TOM?GGETOU" it covered its mouth again "Ilike youenough,i think it will help!" "Why uhh....thank you?" BUT IM PUNIsHING YOU! IT CANT ! ARG! i stood up quickly, ready to run off but before i could it stopped me "H-hey!" "What..?" "Iliekyour....eyes..." I forgot my eyes glow in the dark at night. thats...nice? "Thank you???" i quickly ran off, scurrying back into my den. Lucky is still sleeping..."place it on something..." hm.. I use a bundle of rocks to stand the goop colored pearl up.

^ from whisperers head

silver kills people by stabbing them. (claws r cool.)

silver loves nudging whisperer

silver is embarrassed by how they speak.

silvers tendrils will randomly grab things beside it.

the only not covered parts of silver are its feet, and half of its face.

silver is happy with this form.

silver is aware and alert about whisperers injuries, thinking he should lay low for a while.

silver has a predatory grin as a smile.

ifyouwanna knowmore about their boons ask.

who nect...

okay finally answering this!!! so so sorry for the delay! I dont have a big answer this time around cuz were not in that kinda headspace to dump a bunch of information on something i like, but ive read this a few times & i really enjoy how mysterious yet, oddly “cute” (?) silvers nature can be :0) love luv that whole thing where popular/known rumors will often become reality in some way!! + that added bonus fact about whisperer where we’ve found out!! his eyes glow!!! neat neat!!!

[skayafair]

5 Extra Lives

This has probably been stated by someone by now, but I have a theory about why Arthur is so hard to kill.

Everyone he holds dear seems to die sooner than later, even Kayne made a note about that, and he never just chats. For some reason this seems important to me.

There are 5 deaths important to Arthur so far - of people who cared for him, who he cared about, or both: his parents, his wife, his daughter and his best friend/partner investigator. 

So far I’ve counted about similar number of cases Arthur has either died or had a too close of a call:

when he opened the book

car crash (another driver was dead but not a single scratch on Arthur? Really now?) (arguable tho)

stab wound resulting in coma

the boat

the fall to that talkative monster buddy (even Arthur and John noticed they shouldn’t have survived this)

throat wound at the King’s

27 ep

Now I realize there are not 5 but 7 cases, however: 

- at the boat Arthur was brought back to life by the wraith (which also gives us a precedent of a dead soul having power to do this)

- at the King’s it was the King who kept his word and didn’t let Arthur die for good

I’m also not certain about the car crash. This leaves us with the following:

when he opened the book

car crash

stomach stab wound resulting in coma

the boat

the fall to that talkative monster buddy

troat wound at the King’s

27 ep

4 certain death/near death experiences, 5 if we count the car crash. 3 (4) of them led to miraculously staying alive, one is still undefined.

So you probably already get the gist but I think the deaths of the close ones might be part of the Plan(/Play). Arthur clearly is a pawn in some bigger game, and we don’t know yet if the “friends” who “can’t play by the rules” and “like” Arthur so much (according to Kayne) as well as all Arthur’s choices being scripted beforehand in ep 12 are a plot thing or just a nod to the audience and voting  polls. The 2nd option looks incredibly lazy and disappointing to me so I’ll hope it’s the 1st one.

So he may be following a path set for him (more or less) by some other entities and those entities might ensure their pawn will live long enough to get to the end of their play. 

Basically, 1 death of a close one - 1 more life/miraculous salvation Arthur has.

I first thought about it when it was said that Arthur shouldn’t have survived looking into the book, but he just went blind and was perfectly fine otherwise. Kayne says he’s special, but special how?

There was a theory I’ve seen about his parents, that they might have been cultists too and died in some ritual - I like this theory and thought for some time that might be the catalyst for this “immortality”. I don’t think there’s anything really special about Arthur as a person and by default, but he might have been made special in order to play his role. You know, almost Harry Potter-ish stuff.

Now though I think the parents might have been just theater actors (it feels fitting - probably because his father saw no problem in crossdressing for fun as well as child Arthur himself, in 1920s setting this should stem from somewhere), which still ties them to the Play. I changed my mind about the “cult parents” theory because I think Arthur would have mentioned this in the beginning of ep 27 but he didn’t (he may not know tho).

So while I don’t know how and why exactly this works, Arthur may still have 1 spare life left. 

I guess it gets clear whether this theory has any grounds or not in the 28th episode - if Arthur doesn’t survive, I’ll be wrong. 

But I still like it, canon or not. I think the tragedy and cruelty in its core fit canon anyway.

[theohnocorral]

More Rodeo AU!

sick fic, snippet thing, @lec743 if finished it

Ok, so you may have been bucked off your horse. No big deal. Happens to the best of ‘em. Just last week Sun got his ass bucked by that dappled mare. Perfectly normal, average thing to happen. Everything is fine. Didn’t matter that you’d been on a long ride to Bakersfield and that you were miles from anything and the darkening of the sky wasn’t because of the late hour. 

Fine, fine, everything is fine. Fritter knew his own way home. Horses. Stupid flighty disasters. Daisy wasn’t even here, so it was just you you needed to worry about. Hopefully the coming rain would keep the racoons and possums away from the chickens and the sheep could get back in the barn and survive one rainy night with the doors open. There might be some extra clean up tomorrow if the wind got bad but everyone should be fine. Fritter would probably be stopped and led to a farm anyway, the saddle has tags on it.

So you pick up your feet and head in the direction of the road, leg still aching from the break and not used to walking again. County Z is somewhere off to the east, find that and you take it almost all the way home. You might have been cutting through tractor roads and fence rows with Fritter but the road would be safer than the badger hole sage land. 

“Well feet, start walking.” and you set off into the gloom. 

Damn. You’d been walking for a while. You almost wish Daisy was here after all. Just for the company. It was getting darker and darker on the horizon, the rain much too still. It would start pouring any minute. The afternoon sun undercut by the clouds. The wind picked up suddenly, nearly taking your wide brimmed hat off your head.

“Just keep walking. Little rain never hurt anyone.”

You keep walking down the road, holding your hat down occasionally even with its string pulled tight against your chin the wind threatens to snatch it away. The wind pulls harshly at your clothes, noticeably colder than the rest of the air. There's a crack of thunder and all at once the sky breaks above you, and it pours.

The rain is cold. And you're soaked through within moments. The rain is so heavy and the wind blows so harshly that it's hard to see. The rain stabs and stings as you're pelted. It feels like the wind is going to knock you off your feet. 

You know you should stop, but the rain isn't letting up and probably won't any time soon. The ground can't soak the water up fast enough. In some spots the water swallows up your ankles and splashes up past your knees.

It's a miserable time. You stumble into the ditch more than once, barely able to see, but pretty sure you're still on the road. Whether you're going the right way anymore is something else entirely. You finally come to a crop of trees and decide to stop. It's not like you're actually getting anywhere. You really really hope someone picked up Fritter and that he didn't get himself in a badger hole.

You sit on the muddy ground to rest, it's not like your clothes can get much worse off. You're wet and surprisingly cold. Leaning against the scratching bark of the osage orange isn't nice but it's slightly better than slogging through the torrent of rain and mud. You know you should keep moving bad there's no telling how far you have to go or how turned around you got in the rain. You tuck your chin and bundle yourself up as much as you can. Certainly closing your eyes to rest and wait for clearer skies won't hurt.

When you open your eyes it's daylight. Your still wet and uncomfortable but your burning up. You stumble up to stand besides the tree. It's not raining anymore. Everything shines, sunlight reflecting off all the water. You need to get home.

Once back on the road you start to shuffle your way home. Sore and aching from sleeping outside in the rain. Your pace hasn't really quickened now that the rain has stopped and you've still got work to do when you get home. 

You walk and walk until you realize that the road youre on isn't County Z. You don't know where you are. As you're looking around, trying to get your bearings the rumbling of a car distracts your foggy mind. The sheriff's car is coming down the road. 

The lights come on and then he's stopping right beside your soaked form. He leans over to roll over the window down.

"Kid, do you have any idea what a fuss you've caused?!"

"Fuss?" 

"Those two idiots found your dumb horse out in the rain and practically demanded I call in the national guard to look for you! I told em that damn dunderheaded horse probably just got out after a ride. They've been looking for you all night and day! Do you have any idea- hey, hey kid are you alright?"

You sway a bit. Everything is hazy.

"Ya know sheriff, I don't feel so good."

"Were you out in the damn rain all night? What happened?"

"Fritter bucked me."

"Shit." He puts the car in park and comes around the side. The next thing you know you're off down the road in the back seat of the cruiser. 

You think you'll learn your head on the window for a moment and the next thing you know you're waking up in front of your house. You blink slowly and try to open the door but it's pulling away from you. 

"Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to find your horse on his own and then come to you gone and everything is disarray?"

Moon is inches from your face, he's got you by the shoulders and he's crouching on the ground.

"You took your eyebrows off." 

He huffs before he takes you out of the car, hoisting you up in his arms. The sheriff is following you into the house.

"Alright boys, we got 'em, so if you think you've got this, then I'm going back to the station and call my deputy back."

"We've got it from here sheriff."

"What?!" The call comes from further in the house. "The sheriff can't go back until we-" Sun rounds the corner. "Oh! Short stack, thank god! Where were you what happened? Fritter was all alone trying to get back in the paddock."

You blink slowly at the yellow animatronic. Your moving kind of slow right now, not entirely sure what's going on. You are sure of one thing though.

"I'm not short. Why do you have your eyebrows on and he doesn't?" When you go to point at Moon you end up slapping him in the face. 

"I think it's a fever. Seems they spent all night out in the rain. They were a little out of it when I picked them up too." You hear the sheriff's voice.

"When did  sheriff McElroy get here?"

"We've got it from here sheriff, is there anything you need from us?" Sun is ushering the sheriff out as Moon brings you further in the house.

"No no, I'm sure I'll see you all around town. You take good care of them."

"Come on darling," Moon jostles you higher in his grasp "time for a bath." You start whining and kicking.

Moon drops you in your room after taking your boots, telling you to get some pajamas. You give him your hat too but it's not on your head or hanging off your back, it seems you've lost it on your little adventure. 

Moon comes back and takes you to the bathroom. He's drawn a bath and laid out towels. The air is thick and warm, you get distracted watching the steam curl in the air.

"Do not fall asleep in here. Do you understand?"

You nod your head and he holds your shoulders for a moment longer before slipping out the door.

The water is warm, so warm it makes your toes feel like they're freezing. It burns as you lower yourself into the steaming water but once you're in the bath is like heaven. You wash yourself as best you can, trying to continue to move to stay awake in the too warm bath. 

Getting out draws attention to your aching muscles. Your teeth chatter as you dry and dress. Once done you leave your bathroom and find Moon standing guard.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't fall asleep and drown?" 

"Most drownings are silent."

"Why do you know that?"

"I dunno."

"Okay darling let's get you fed and into bed, you can hopefully sleep off this fever." Before you can say anything else Moon has scooped you up and is carrying you downstairs.

"You're still not wearing your eyebrows." You gripe at him.

"Why the preoccupation?"

"I've tried giving you gifts and those are the only one you've liked." You're falling asleep in his arms. You think he's talking to you. Everything is too warm but your shivering and your head is fuzzy, so you just wrap your arms around his neck.

The next several minutes are a blur of too warm hands and conversation you can't follow. You eat soup even though it tastes funny, sour on the edges and does nothing to soothe the ache in your throat. But someone is insisting you eat and even when you push the food away it's brought back to your lips by hands not your own. So you eat and drink ginger ale and nibble on crackers. You're much warmer now and so tired, you start to nod off at the table.

You get bundled up again and brought up stairs. You could tell that much at least. It had been so long since anyone had carried you anywhere. You hold the person carrying you tighter, mumbling, trying to apologize. If dad's carrying you upstairs you must've stayed out really late. You try to apologize for losing track of time again as he lays you down. He must be mad, you've fallen asleep in the barn before, he doesn't like it. But he smoothes your hair down, pulling your covers up before he leaves. You hope he's not too mad at you.

When you wake up its well past noon. Which is not good. You throw the blankets off and try to rush downstairs but dizziness and an uneasy stomach cause you to stumble and sit back down on the bed.

Your head hurts and your joints are aching. You remember sitting down to rest and the sheriff's car but after that everything is fuzzy. You remember bathing but not much else. You wonder how you managed to not hurt yourself in your fevered state. It doesn't really matter, you have work to do.

You make it halfway down the hallway before you hear the clattering downstairs. At first your frightened of someone in the house with you in this state but then you realize it must be uncle Ollie or Norma Gene who took care of you and they're still here. Then someone is stomping their way up the stairs.

"Oh darling, you're awake!" Moon is the one that appears on the landing. "Come on, our Sunny boy is making breakfast." He picks you up without waiting for a response, your head swims a little.

"What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, you had quite the fever yesterday. What do you remember?"

"Sheriff's car, I took a bath, not much else."

"What about before?"

"Oh, Fritter bucked me on the way back from Bakersfield. Then it started storming."

"Sheriff said he found you walking north on W." The wrong way. Like the completely wrong way. 

"I must've gotten more turned around in the storm than I thought." Maybe you had been walking for longer too. In the dark in the rain you hadn't known for sure what road you'd ended up on. Moon sets you down at the kitchen table. Daisy comes up and shoves her face in your lap, whole body moving with the force of her wagging tail. "Oh hey girl, don't worry I'm alright."

"Well you will be once you eat and rest a bit more! Though it does seem your fevers broken!" Sun turns from the stove, sleeves rolled up, wearing an apron, holding a spatula. 

"I'm fine, I've slept enough there's work I need-"

"Oh hush." Sun sets a bowl of creamy oatmeal in front of you and a tall glass of orange juice. Not something you usually have in the house. "We took care of everything, all the animals are fed and let out, Fritter got brushed and I took care of your saddle, we fed Daisy here, you just need to relax."

"You gave us quite the scare you know." Moon pulls out a chair to sit next to you. Sun starts cleaning dishes. You look between the two of them.

"I was gone less than a day." Sun glances over his shoulder from the sink. "I didn't even think anyone would notice I was gone." You stir your oatmeal before shaking your head and starting to eat.

"How could we not notice our favorite clown missing?" Moon says as he cups your neck, rubbing the base of your skull with his thumb. Between Moon and the warm oatmeal you’re nodding off again fairly quickly, head still a little fuzzy from the fever, throat still a little sore. You don't protest when one of the boys picks you up to tuck you in again. Tomorrow you might feel bad that they're having to take care of you again but right now it's nice to be cared for. To not have to look after yourself for once. You sink into the pillows and don't notice when Sun kisses your forehead.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 06x14 Mannequin 3: The Reckoning

“It’s going to either move its eyes or whole head.” 🎶in the butt🎶

“It’s going to microwave his brain from all the way across the room or something” “The fuck” “THE FUCK” “That guy had some high blood pressure. That was some serious blood splatter” “like I got fucked in the nostril” “Stop lying” “I’m fine” “Soulless dick bag era” “Play montage music. Stare at computer screen” “This aint gonna go well” So I fell asleep watching this episode with my hands on the keyboard so we are starting again tonight

“Way to fkn trip dude. Right when it matters” “I mean if you’re going to get stabbed with a pipe, you gotta see the blood coming out of the pipe. A missed opportunity” “then again, we’re all just mannequin parts anyway” “That was funny” “I don’t know what we’re looking at” “Don’t write that down.” “Prop shop. I suppose this is an easy set for them” “Something about humming and molesting dummies something something” “Is the next one a sex doll? That would be funny” “Because it’s an object. Wait.” “There he goes acting with his eyes again” Paused to read the web page

“They misspelled Prices” “The US Federal Reserve went bankrupt That’s funny” “Also I’m assuming they’re researching people in the town. If that’s the case, here it says the weather is rainy and going to storm. Lets make sure that happens” “Paused to read the Missing Girl article on TV” “Her routine route” “She was on her routine route on her way home when she saw the rotorooter rooting around in the rummage store” “You can file this stuff under stuff that could be written under ChatGPT instead of an intern” “They bothered to actually write this out. That’s actually impressive. All that effort for 5 seconds” “Duck face” “Maybe don’t ignore that shit, Dean” “He’s trying to dodge the kid, seriously?” “You could do a whole genre of niche fan fiction that they paint this Rose person in. You read all the onscreen shit and make a story about her” “Oh, I’m sure she did” “She was wearing red. Imagine that” “That was quite the jaw slap. Watch him move his whole head. He quit then Spouse wiggles like Sam did” “You’re nowhere near a factory. You’re in the middle of suburbia” “This guy seems familiar” “There was a sign I couldn’t read” “Fkn finger the shit out of that doorbell” “I thought they were still together?” “the guy is Yo Mama” “Nerd” “Get pegged” “In a barn” “On a rusty nail” “Bro. I gotta hide these drugs” “Oh shit I think the condom exploded. Fuck man” I have no idea

“He’s going to be like yeah sure, but I guess Sam did interview this guy” “How does that not hurt? That’s the best superpower a ghost could have. Be the best doctor in the world and never feel that” “Surgeon not doctor I guess” “That’s just fkn cruel man” “Thats locker room talk bro” “Oh yeah you all deserve to die” “I mean they have it coming” “Had to dump her. Couldn’t make it look like suicide or whatever” “It’s on me bro” “I’m not saying you deserve to die but…” “Just let him die” Laughed 

“The fkn nod. That entire scene was a whole conversation with himself” “and it made sense” “Isn’t that basically the same speech he gave Sam a long time ago?” Look at spouse picking up parallels

“The guitar is back” “Get murdered bitch” “Now I’m confused” “What the fuck did I just see?” “Isn’t the thing that was doing the murdering…? I don’t understand” “I should totally make this my voicemail “this is my other other other cell you know what to do” “she is a very small person” “She’s holding the cursed object?” “Her underwear, obviously” “Kidney / underwear. Same difference” “What are you going to do? Burn her at the stake or what” “She’s fkn gone. Pay attention” “Just outrun it? YOu’re not going to dodge the side or anything?” “Man they don’t build them like they used to. Not a fkn scratch” “Oh that was easy” “Don’t have to worry about getting the kidney out if you just kill her.” “Soulless Sam - he would have just killed the girl” “Just pour some beer on it . It’ll be fine” “Need a new headliner bro.” “Engine liner thing. I think it’s called a headliner” “The hood liner.” “Just keep kissing ass. It’s only your brother so it’s weird” “Keep our heads down. Keep swinging our dicks” “I think Sam nods too much to allow me to trust him. Like he’s trying to convince you he’s a good person”

[writtenjewels]

Injury prompt #4 (trying to hide injury) with dialogue 20 would fit so well with Jalim 👌💯 (have fun choosing who faints 💛)

“So what the hell happened to you, anyway?”

“Eh?” The angry marine's words startled him. They had just agreed to work together and had barely taken two paces down the corridor when the question came up. “I'm not sure where to start,” Salim admitted. “You mean since we fell into this temple?”

“No, smart-ass, I mean that.” The marine-- Salim remembered that Nick had called him Jason-- pointed to Salim's chest. Salim reflexively put a hand over the scratches he'd endured from the vampires. They weren't that bad; there was no reason to bring them up.

“I've been battling demons all night. This is just their blood.” Jason considered this and seemed satisfied with it.

“I killed one 'em, too,” he boasted. “Motherfucker grabbed me and dragged me off.”

“I didn't hear any shooting,” Salim reflected.

“I stabbed the shit outta it.” Jason pulled out what looked like a tent peg to show him. “Drove this right in its fuckin' heart.” Salim leaned in a little to take a look. Yes, that would have certainly done the trick. He glanced up and caught Jason's eye, and for a brief moment they were smiling at each other. Then Jason schooled his features back to sternness.

Bonding time was over. And yet Jason was no longer being entirely cold to him. Now and then he seemed willing to at least talk to Salim and tease him a little. Salim found he liked the playful side of Jason very much. If only he would stop reverting back to the confrontational man he'd been when they first met.

They came across a door that needed both of them to lift it. Salim crawled under first but Jason lost his grip, separating the two of them. Salim felt a little light-headed when he pushed back up to his feet again. He could feel his uniform was wet with his blood.

“You okay?” Jason called to him.

“Ah, yes, I'm fine,” Salim assured him. “I'm looking for another way for you to get through.” He pushed his way onward until he found a gap in the rocks. “Here!” he called out. “I just need to shift the rocks.”

“Take your time,” Jason replied. “It ain't like I'm goin' anywhere.” Salim smiled to himself and started moving the rocks. “You got any idea what we're facin'?” Jason asked. Salim shook his head trying to keep it clear.

“Could we talk about something else, please?”

“I hear ya,” Jason agreed. “Like what?”

“Tell me what your home is like.” He wasn't really expecting anything, but Jason actually gave him an answer. Salim could hear the frustration and hopelessness in the words. This was the true Jason, he realized.

He finally shifted the rocks and held up the slab so Jason could crawl through. The moment he did Salim was hit with another wave of light-headedness. He slipped to his knees, blinking past the spots in his vision.

“What the fuck? What's the matter with you?” He thought he felt Jason touching him but he couldn't tell. The marine's face swam in Salim's vision, and then the world went black as he fainted.

When he opened his eyes he found himself on his back. His shirt had been removed and there were bandages clumsily placed over his scratches. Jason was sitting by his side and there was a brief flicker of relief on the marine's face before it shifted to one of annoyance.

“The scratches were 'just their blood', huh? Thought we were supposed to be workin' together as sword and shield now.”

“I didn't think the injury was that bad,” Salim defended. He shifted to a sitting position but Jason glared at him.

“Don't even try to get up.”

“Watch me,” Salim spat back. He was relieved that the act of sitting up didn't make his head spin. He took a few slow breaths just to make sure he didn't pass out again.

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?” Jason growled. “You're not gonna be any good to anyone until you get more rest.”

“I'm not sitting around here waiting for more of those vampires to come after us!” Salim shot back.

“Am I the fucking shield or what? Give me more credit, Salim!” Salim's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open. “What?” Jason grunted.

“You said my name.”

“So?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“So...” Salim couldn't form the right words. He never introduced himself, so Jason got his name through Nick. Nick probably only said it once in passing but Jason had remembered it, and used it without thinking. Salim dropped his gaze; he couldn't even explain to himself what he was feeling. “Nothing.”

“Here.” Jason shoved something toward him. It turned out to be his canteen. “You need fluids.”

“You need to work on your bedside manner, Jason.” He used the marine's name wanting to see if it had a similar effect on the younger man. And it did seem like there was a shift in Jason's expression before he caught himself.

“Give your mouth some rest, will ya?” Salim took the canteen and sipped to hide his smile. This was the kind of anger from Jason he could live with: the kind that hinted at worry he wanted to be kept hidden. Maybe all of Jason's anger toward Salim was like that-- hiding another emotion. Acting as a shield, one might say.

Salim passed back the canteen. Jason took a sip before screwing the lid back on and putting it in his pack. He held out a hand to help Salim back on his feet.

“If you ain't gonna rest, we'd best move on. Just... tell me next time you get hurt, all right?”

“I will if you do the same,” Salim agreed.

“Yeah.” Jason caught his eye and nodded. “I'm good with that.” Salim felt warmth swell his heart. There was hope for them yet.

[lovelybarnes]

scars- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: heavy mentions of insecurity, focus on scars, injuries, blood, wounds, canon violence about: requested! (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc. + (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope this is what you wanted and that you liked it!!

[ @tylard-blog1 ]

you’re aware that everyone on the team has them; natasha romanoff, even steve rogers, with his unbreakable milk skin, and bruce banner, with the green that tinges the hue of his temples when a scar is made. they’re reminders of what you do, some symbols of the lives that you’ve saved-- and others the lives that you’ve taken.

yes, everyone has them, but that doesn’t make you like the ones that litter your own body very much. nor does it stop you from looking away from them when you catch a glimpse of the scars that peek out of the clothing you specifically choose to hide them away from the curious eyes of the public. it doesn’t stop the frustrated tears that ebb in your eyes when you run the tips of your fingers over the raised tissue.

sometimes you realize how unfair it is of you to hate the scars that splay on your collarbone, and the ones that run across your hips and thighs, when you press your lips against the ones on bucky’s shoulder, pleading for him to believe you when you say you think he’s beautiful. the thought lingers when you playfully roll your eyes at natasha on the rare moment when she narrows her eyes at the healed bullet wound that sits above her hip, genuine words assuring her she looks great no matter what slipping out of the same mouth that utters ugly words at the mirror. you ignore it even as it guilts you when you touch the scars on bruce’s arms with featherlight fingers, pressing that they don’t make him a monster, or any of the hideous words with which he describes himself.

you try to tell yourself the reassurances apply to you, too, because they’re true-- the scars don’t diminish the beauty of your smile, or the glow that you carry, and they shouldn’t hinder the upwards pull of your lips when you catch a glimpse of them in the mirror-- but even as you try to convince yourself of that, your eyes always flit away, hand positioning itself in front of the scars as you examine the way you’d love yourself without them.

you were never aware of the blue eyes that caught your moments of dislike for yourself, missing the bead of worry that embedded itself in the cerulean of bucky’s irises.

-

it was on a particularly bad day of yours that one of your relatively smaller missions was scheduled. listed underneath your name was bucky’s, although he was only on there because he had demanded you never to go on a mission to an active hydra base alone, even though he knew you could handle it; you didn’t mind, always enjoying the quiet moments you got on the quinjet with bucky-- and the pilot, usually clint or steve, who bit their tongue, unlike sam or tony.

it would’ve been fine on any other day, but your day hadn’t started on the best note. the scars underneath your clothing seemed to burn every time you moved in the way they had when you first received them. you had stared at them for far too long, wishing you had the super-healing of the asgardian gods or the super soldiers you surrounded yourself with, who would never get permanent scars from the things you had experienced. they felt especially ugly sitting on your skin, making you want to lay in bed all day, pretending they didn’t exist.

your mission cut off your day of wallowing in your bed, forcing you to shove on your suit and sit in the quinjet to arrive at the mission you could’ve easily handled by yourself had it been another day and you had felt any other way.

you were from the same black widow program natasha was from; you were probably impossibly better, more ruthless and uncaring because from the moment you were born, you had nothing to lose, no family to protect, no memories of a childhood--even a fake one-- to hang onto. your movements were always calculated and perfect, like they had been forced to be, and your emotions were never supposed to cloud your anything-- they never did, except for when you had the days that knocked you off your feet, just like these.

nevertheless, you were distracted in the base with bucky, although you shouldn’t have been, considering the delicate information you were handling. you flawlessly did the routine of knocking guards unconscious, ignoring the way a harsh heat flashed in your hip when bucky’s hand touched the place where one of your more brutal scars was. it felt nearly as if he could feel it under his fingers, even though it was a ridiculous thought considering the material of your tac suit.

it was still going relatively fine; you had recovered the usb file you had been assigned to secure, and most of the guards were dead, fallen in a trail that created a clear pathway for bucky to find you, usb drive clutched tightly in your hand as you bled out on the floor, a knife thrown next to the pool of blood quickly forming underneath you and the person who had done it lying dead a few feet away. your gun was in your other hand, one of its bullets embedded in the hydra agents’ chest. bucky could hear the strangled gurgles of breathing coming from the agent, but he paid no attention to him as he rushed to your side, eyebrows furrowing as his hands reached the stab wound. you hissed sharply when you felt the cold of his vibranium fingers meet the burning hot of the injury, pressing down hard as lightly as he could while he mumbled something into the comms you never used. you were suddenly gathered into his arms, cringing when you heard a scream you didn’t realize was yours until you felt bucky’s lips moving in reassuring sentences next to your ear, a string of apologies falling from his lips. you never let go of the drive, desperate to keep hold of something that connected you to the real world, not wanting to focus on your other alternative: it was irrelevant when compared to everything else, but through the blinding red of pain, the only thing you could focus on was obsessing over the fact that a new scar would inevitably heal in place of the stab wound-- one you knew you would survive because you’d survived a hell of a lot worse than it, but the next ugly thing to form in your abdomen might just make you never want to see yourself again.

warm tears rolled down your cheeks as bucky carried you back into the quinjet, one of your hands tiredly fisted at bucky’s shirt, trying your best to stay awake but ultimately failing from the loss of blood and will.

-

it’s stupid. you’re aware, but your first thought when you open your eyes again is how there is yet another scar that will form on your abdomen, making tears rush to your eyes in frustration because it was your fault it was there anyways. had you just paid attention-- just not concentrated so on the wretched things, a new one would not be forming right now. the collection of ugly tissue that littered your skin was already too large.

the frustration you felt overpowered the painful numbness that settled over the wound in your abdomen, making dried tears spring back to life and dribble down your apple cheeks, alerting your boyfriend of your state. “doll? what’s wrong?” he asks, and at the sign he’s there, listening to your whimpers and audible disdain, the dam breaks loose, your hands reaching up to your face and tugging at the gash.

bucky’s up on his feet, tender hands circling around your wrists to pull them back down, “y/n, what’s wrong, doll?” he repeats, gentle blue eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. you squeeze your eyes shut, another salty trail making its way onto the bow of your lips. bucky’s warm fingers wipe away the wetness, his fingertips light.

“baby, please tell me what hurts,” he begs, his vibranium hand making its way into yours. you shake your head, squeezing his cold fingers. “i hate them,” you mumble, feeling his palm cupping your jaw, “i hate them so much.”

“hate what, honey?” he questions gently, brows furrowing further when he sees your hand curling into a loose fist above the place where his hands have lovingly settled: right on your scars. “i’m sorry,” you cry quietly, nose scrunching up when his fingers trace over the tissue he’s memorized the location of, “i hate them. they’re ugly and i hate them.”

“these?” bucky inquires, surprised. he lifts your shirt-- really, his-- to see the object of your tears, catching when you shut your eyes again and more tears drip off your jaw.

“bucky, no--”

bucky looks up at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “y/n…” he starts sadly, pulling away to get you to look at him. “they’re not... “ his eyes flick down to one of the scars, and he taps on it gently, “d’you remember this one? it was a couple years ago when i barely joined the team.” you can feel a lump growing in your throat, perfectly able to recall where you got it.

“you barely knew me back then, but you did know i was a super soldier, and you jumped in front of that bullet anyways. god, i knew i had to ask you out before someone knocked sense into anyone else.”

you sniffle, biting your lip, “this one,” he touches another one, “you saved nat and a little girl from a madman. her parents were so thankful they stayed with you until you woke up to thank you.” his finger wipes away another tear, “she invited me to her birthday party this year,” you snivel, and bucky smiles.

“these are not ugly-- you are not ugly, i promise.” he tells you. “i love you, every part of you--” his head suddenly ducks down, and you can feel his lips softly pressing against the scars, careful to avoid your newly forming one. your hand reaches his jaw, running your nail along his stubble as more thankful tears slip from your eyes. “i love you,” he repeats, kissing your lips.

“thank you,” you whisper against his lips, sniffling as you feel the burn on the scars slowly begin to disappear with the coolness of bucky’s vibranium fingertips.

[scaramoon]

he accidentally hurts you while sparring

DILUC, KAEYA, XIAO, CHILDE — gn!reader

warnings/genre: kinda hurt/comfort? idk it’s mostly fluffy, mentions of blood and (very) minor injuries, swearing in childe’s

notes: rbs are v much appreciated, please and ty !! also pls ignore that i got carried away w xiao’s </3

━━ diluc;

you’ll have to be insistent if you even want him to spar with you; he knows you’re fully capable of standing your ground but... he’s worried

he’ll act like he doesn’t, but it’s obvious that he keeps close by whenever you’re sparring with someone

but if you wear him down enough or you’re good with your words, you can convince him to be your sparring partner

lmao just tell him you’ll get kaeya to do it 💀

“don’t- don’t hold your sword like that.” he said, his tone was flat but you’d known him long enough to be able to find the concern in it.

“i know how to hold a sword, diluc,” you responded. “i asked for a partner, not a teacher, remember?”

red eyes flashed towards you and something like a smile appeared on your lover’s lips. you mirrored it, letting your lips curl into a grin.

“of course,” he said, smallest hint of a playful tone in his voice.

but he was quick, and you may have underestimated just how well trained he was. normally, you could have blocked him. this time, however, you weren’t expecting it and you’d already began to drop your dominant hand to your side.

he noticed that, but he was just a little too late. diluc was used to the momentum of his weapon, but it wasn’t often that he had to stop it. he tried to step back before he hurt you, your name falling from his lips, desperation and worry coating his voice.

and then, just as soon as he’s processed it, his claymore was on the ground and he was watching you crouch and hold your upper arm. your seethe of pain sent guilt rushing through him.

it took him a moment to decide whether or not to go over to you; he wanted to, he really wanted to, but a part of him feared that you didn’t want him near you.

he couldn’t help it though.

“y/n?” diluc’s tone was almost a command, loud but desperate, wanting you to look at him and tell him that you were perfectly fine — wanting that to be the truth.

tears pricked in the corners of your eyes but you looked at him nonetheless. he hated that look in your eyes. seeing you in pain was one thing, but the knowledge that he was the cause of it twisted his heart in unbearable ways.

“i’m ok, diluc,” you said, quieter than you normally would. “just a little scratch, see?”

you moved your hand from where it was holding onto your arm. blood coated your fingers and the clothing surrounding the new wound, but it was clear that the cut wasn’t deep.

he didn’t say anything. his lips were pressed into a thin line as he kneeled beside you. eyebrows pinned in worry and concentration evident in his eyes, he started ripping at your sleeve to get a better look.

“diluc.” you said. your voice was more commanding this time as you moved away from him. why couldn’t he see it really wasn’t so bad?

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” this time you could see clearly just how distressed he was.

he looked like he was about to cry and he wasn’t the one that’d been hurt. not physically, anyway; you had no idea how his chest hurt, how he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

you stared at him for a little longer. “i said i’m fine. but if it will help you sleep at night, you can come help me clean it, deal?”

“of course, dove.”

━━ kaeya;

he actually likes sparring with you

he doesn’t often get the chance, but whenever both of you are able to, he sees it as time he gets to spend with you

and any time spent with you is never time wasted in his eyes

plus he gets to do the sword under your chin thing and tease you </3

“dead.” you said proudly, standing over your lover, your sword under his chin.

a playful grin spread across his lips as he let you enjoy your win. you backed away and allowed him to stand up, dust himself off. a stretch of his arms, and then he was picking up his sword to go again.

“ready?” kaeya asked, smirk stretching his lips.

“yeah,” you said, smiling back. your gloved hand tightened around your sword’s hilt; the gloves were making your hands sweaty, your grip loosening. “actually, w-”

“y/n!”

the next thing you realized was a stinging at you side. your hand immediately came to the cut, taking an instinctive step back. the sound of kaeya’s sword hitting the ground met your ears, his hands were on your arms a second later.

“hey, hey, you’re okay.” he tried to sound calm but if was a bad attempt. he crouched down onto the ground, guiding you to sit in front of him. cautious hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, kaeya looking up at you. “can I look, love?”

“yeah, but I’m fine.” you said, though your face was twisted in pain.

his eyes were full of pity when he looked at you, jaw clenching before he lifted your shirt enough to see the wound. on first appearance, it looked worse than it really was.

“see?” you spoke again. “all good.”

he didn’t say anything at first. he just pulled you closer to him, chin hooked over your shoulder, though he was careful not to agitate your cut.

“not really. but it’s okay, we’re gonna get you all better, yeah?”

“kaeya, seriously, i’m fine. you don’t need-”

“y/n.” his voice was still sweet and concerned, but more stern when he spoke this time. “let me take care of you.”

“...fine.”

━━ xiao;

good luck getting him to spar with you in the first place

it doesn’t matter how much you tell him you want to, he’ll keep turning you down

needless to say, you’ll have to play your cards right to get him to agree to it

“what if i hurt you, y/n?”

“i’ll be under-trained and get hurt if you don’t help me.”

“you know i’ll always be there if you call for me.”

“and if you can’t come?”

“...”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” he stated simply, eyes narrowing at you. you only threw him a smile.

“what’s the worst that can happen? you won’t even use your real pole arm, you have a stick. you can’t stab me with it, xiao.”

“I would rather not think about ‘stabbing’ you in the first place.” he huffed. “but... you need to be safe, in case one day I can’t keep you safe myself.”

a smile crossed your face as you gripped your weapon, ready for him to start.

you may have miscalculated the power and ability of an adeptus though. you quickly found yourself tired and overwhelmed, just blocking and dodging was almost too much. he could sense your fatigue already, and he was listening for you to call him to stop. xiao was ready to stop on a dime, but he knew that you were stubborn and insistent.

his “pole arm” came close to your side, and he really thought you would dodge this one. you’d done it before. but he felt the wood hit you, you falling to the ground, holding your side soon after.

his make-shift weapon was long forgotten now. he was kneeling beside you in seconds, gentle fingers running along what he was sure was a broken rib. he didn’t find one, but the guilt was already eating him and that knowledge did nothing to stop it.

“ow! that hurts, don’t touch me.” you said, seething in pain and making a pitiful attempt to move away from him.

xiao did not cry.

he didn’t, it just wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure if adepti could cry. but the idea of you being scared of him started tears to fill his eyes; his chest was tight, and he had this uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“no, no,” you started, propping yourself on your elbows and then sitting all the way up.

you tried to reach and hold his face, to wipe the tears off, but he turned away from you; he kept kneeling, but shifted to a position a little farther away from you. the adeptus made a noise something like a squeak, and it seemed to surprise him. he didn’t wait for you to finish talking, he turned away and looked anywhere except you.

“xiao, baby, that’s not what I meant. you can- I just meant don’t put your hands directly where I got hurt... xiao? can you look at me?”

it took him a few more moments before he turned his head back to you. you knew he wasn’t always the most emotional, but you didn’t think you’d seen him like this before. he hummed, not trusting his voice. still, he wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me. its just a little bruise, there’s not even blood... I’m not scared of you, xiao, it’s not your fault.”

he stared at you for another moment before he cleared his throat and stood up. “can we at least have someone make sure you’re okay?”

“yeah.”

“...and you won’t ask me to do that again?”

“of course not.”

━━ childe;

he has mixed feelings about sparring with you

of course, it’s an odd form of quality time, but he likes it

plus that means he won’t have to watch you spar with anyone else

but there’s always the risk that you could get hurt

he’s an archer though, so he only “attacks” you with his melee — he thought he was being a lot more careful

“ready?” childe smiled, twirling one of his weapons around his finger.

“as always.” you said, gripping your own weapon.

“mhm, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re ‘always ready’,” childe said dropped his hands to his sides and stepping closer to you.

you knew what he was trying to do — he attempted to pull this off every time you sparred with him, and you never failed to catch him. seem relaxed, and whenever you thought he wouldn’t, he’d attempt to get the better of you.

this time, however, you were not as quick as you usually were. childe knew that you always saw through this; not once had you’d failed to block him, so maybe he put his trust in his weapons more than he should have.

he stopped when both of you look at the clean, but bloody, cut he’d made. his eyes widened as it sinked in, coming to the realization that he’d hurt you

“y/n- shit, I’m sorry,” he said, panic clear in his voice, though he tried to hide it. his hand was on your shoulder, guiding you to sit on the ground. “are you- you’re okay, it’s not that deep. we’re gonna get that healed and you’ll be fine, yeah?”

for words so reassuring, his panicked tone was saying something along the lines of ‘shit shit fuck dammit, i accidentally hurt my own partner, what the fuck-’

“yeah, it’s no biggie,” you said, smiling a little at him. “it’s just a little cut, I get worse on commissions.”

you knew that later he would claim he was totally calm. in reality, he was trying his best to clean the wound with his vision, and he’d get better help whenever he could get to bubu pharmacy.

“you owe me kisses though, y’know,” you teased.

‘good,’ he thought. ‘they aren’t mad at me.’

“whatever ya want, love.”

“oh? maybe I’ll take cuddles too.”

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Possibilities [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Title: Possibilities Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 6 July 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: Mention of food and alcohol Summary: Tom and you have been friends for a long time and because of that same reason you value your friendship more than to ruin it with some silly feelings. But the event you attend together offers you some surprises that might change your relationship forever.

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Events, galas, award ceremonies. You weren't a popular actress nor a famous singer, or social media influencer. You had a simple 9-5 job that would hardly ever get you into these events. But regardless of your status in society, you were known and not because of any talent you possessed that could have made you famous, but because your best friend was none-other than Tom Hiddleston.

You have been friends for years, you adored everything about the man. He was sweet and kind, always polite, but just as playful. It was a friendship you felt lucky to be in, a friendship that you held so close to your heart, it would have broken every little piece of you if it ever ended. Often, you found yourself staring at him with a little smile in the corner of your lips, watching his every move, the way he joked around with his co-stars on set, the way he exercised in the gym for a role, the way he winked at you with a mischievous smile as he caught your eyes on him.

"Do you need my autograph?" he asked with a wide grin as he opened the door of the luxurious car he booked for the event. Once again you have forgotten your eyes on him— his dashing looks, the perfectly fitted suit, the playful twinkle in his eyes. He never stopped teasing you about it.

"Shove off, Tom," you nudged him as he got out of the car and held out a hand for you, waiting for you to accept his help. So, you did. Wrapping your fingers around his hand, you let him help you out of the vehicle as you rearranged your stunning dress and ran your hand down its length to remove any creasing. Cameras were flashing, reporters' loud voices filled the pathway to the entrance, a long red carpet leading your way inside the building towering over you like a modern castle.

"If I didn't know better, I would think your interest in me goes beyond friendship," he chuckled as he held his arm out to you, waiting for yours to be placed over his, his eyes following every little movement of yours. A sudden rush of heat travelled up to your cheeks, your breathing slightly laboured as you tried to calm your heavily beating heart. He was not wrong after all. It's been years since you have been harbouring these feelings, but you hadn't had the heart to confess them. Tom was more important to you than to ruin it over some silly feelings.

Sometimes, when you caught Tom's eyes on you, watching you intently, a soft smile spread across his face, it made you think if maybe, just maybe he was harbouring similar feelings towards you. But the idea was quickly swept away by your doubts, the thought of such an amazing man falling for you seeming impossible. You knew your worth, you didn't write yourself down, but Tom has always been perfect in your eyes, and you couldn't imagine him wanting you even if at times a certain silly part of your brain whispered otherwise.

"I love your healthy self-confidence," you finally gathered your ability to be able to reply, earning a comical huff from him. You have been trying hard, to deny your romantic interest in him, but rumours about the two of you have become a reoccurring news and it didn't help your case to shove your feelings in the back of your mind.

"Ready?" He asked as his gaze turned towards the red carpet. Heaving a heavy sigh, you nodded and murmured a 'yes' as a response.

As soon as the cameras started flashing, hundreds of photos of Tom and you being taken, you conjured a sweet little smile that the tabloids loved. You were always nervous when it came to these events. It was Tom's job to answer some of the questions journalists asked of him, which meant they were to ask about your relationship. It was becoming repetitive, making you feel uncomfortable. The questions themselves didn't bother you but repeating over and over again that the man you have fallen for is merely a friend, felt like a stab in your heart, each time you responded.

"Tom! Tom!" One of the reporters shouted his name and he led you to the side of the red carpet, halting right beside the metal cordons. Questions were flying around, photos had been taken, but you didn't concentrate. Your senses were heightened as Tom pulled you in his side, his arm now wrapped around your waist, gently, but firmly holding onto you. Looking up at him, you studied his face, his ice-blue eyes focusing on the reporter, an excited smile across his face. He seemed so relaxed, so collected, meanwhile even events after events you were still nervous. As though he could feel it, he turned to you with a soft, reassuring smile, giving you a nod, silently asking if you were alright. For others, the movement could have easily been missed, but to you, it was like an earthquake, shaking your heart, making you fall even deeper for him. In a reply, you nodded and offered him a smile as you squeezed his hand that rested on your waist.

"So, Tom, this might be a bit more personal, but everyone has been talking about the two of you," he started, and your eyes immediately darted towards the man. You knew the question, heard it a thousand times already, so you prepared your heart to give the same reply as always. 'We are just friends,' you repeated time after time, hoping they would finally understand and let you be, but they didn't seem to budge. "You have been friends for a long time, and your fans have been talking about how close the two of you have become. Do you think, maybe in the future, there's a possibility for romance to blossom?" He asked with an expectant expression, a sly smile in the corner of his lips.

"As we have said before," you spoke up, ready to reply as you always did, "we—"

"You never know what the future holds for you, there are many possibilities" Tom cut in with a mischievous smile, your eyes growing wide as you looked up at him. Tom chuckled at your expression as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. "Tell me I'm wrong," he arched a brow questioningly, his words starting your heart off at a faster pace, your cheeks feeling warmer under his intent gaze, those blue eyes you often found yourself lost in.

"Well—, I mean I can't argue with that statement," you replied, feeling slightly awkward. A confused smile started growing wider on your face as Tom led you away. "Why did you do that?" You asked as you finally stepped inside the building, his arm still resting around your waist as you headed towards a large room filled with all sorts of foods and drinks, people dancing in the middle, the dim lightning offering a rather intimate mood. "You just created even more gossip," you scolded him, but seemingly he didn't mind. He led you to a table where his name was printed on a nametag and pulled the chair out for you before he took his seat beside you.

"I didn't say anything," he smiled at you as innocently as he could manage, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"You did. Exactly because you were so secretive, people will want to read between the lines. They will think there's more to us than friendship," you huffed as you hid your face in your palm and heaved a heavy sigh.

"And is that so bad?" He frowned, earning the same expression from you.

"What?" A silent scoff left your lungs. "What are you trying to say?"

"Is that such a big problem if people think we are together?" He asked, his confident tone stunning you.

"Of course, not. I don't care what rumours are being spread about me, but I don't want them to gossip about you," you reached for his hand on the table and wrapped your fingers around it, giving it a gentle squeeze. His expression stayed emotionless; you couldn't read him entirely, but you knew he seemed off.

"I will go grab us a drink," he said as he stood up, leaving you frowning. You weren't sure what you said that made him upset, and regardless of trying to put on a straight face, you knew he wasn't happy with your response.

You watched as he walked over to a small table filled with the most delicious looking cakes and a couple of bottles of champagne, ready for the guests before they brought out the main course. Tom grabbed a battle of champagne and two glasses, filling up both halfway, before he placed the battle back into an ice bucket.

"What is it?" You asked as he returned and gave you one of the glasses.

"What do you mean?" He asked, taking a seat beside you.

"We've known each other for quite a long time. I can read you like an open book. What's bothering you?" Trying to get him to open up, you shuffled closer to him, your chair scraping the floor, turning heads in your direction. "Oops," you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, earning a chuckle from Tom.

"Very subtle," he mocked you.

"Don't change the subject Mr. Hiddleston," you raised a questioning brow, a tiny smile hidden in the corner of your lips.

"Nothing is bothering me," he added, but your suspicious gaze didn't falter. "I'm being honest, darling," the sly little fox knew his nickname for you would make you soften up and he used every opportunity to say it when he felt cornered.

"Fine," you squinted. "But we aren't done! I'm not blind, I can see something is on your mind."

"Yes, ma'am, I can't wait for this conversation to come back around," he mocked you once again, making you huff as you gently punched his shoulder.

Throughout the night, said conversation was forgotten, the alcohol consumption rose, the amount of people dancing around the room grew, meanwhile others sat at their tables, trying to digest the previously served delicious meals. You couldn't deny that you had a good laugh with Tom and his co-stars from all sorts of movies he had been in. It felt like a little family, people coming together to just have a joyous time.

The way Tom smiled at his friends, praising each other, before turning to mock one another forced your eyes to rest on his excited features. He looked so alive, so happy and the feeling of the man you loved being in his element meant everything to you. Tom was radiating enthusiasm and you couldn't look away as you watched his ever-growing smile, his nose scrunched up at an unexpected subject, his head falling back as a loud laughter erupted from his lungs. He was always handsome, but when he was happy, it filled you up with a certain warmth that you couldn't explain. Like you always wanted to make him happy just to be able to see that cheerful smile spread across his face.

He turned to you, catching your gaze on him once again. His arm sneaked behind you, pulling you closer and leaning down to your ear. "You are staring at me again," you couldn't see it, but you could feel his smile spreading wider.

"I like to see you happy," you shrugged with a soft smile as you leaned back to be able to meet his gaze. His smile faltered, but his eyes softened.

"Dance with me," he said as he offered his palm to you, and you placed your hand in it.

"I take no responsibility for broken toes," you said with a silent chuckle as you followed him to the dancefloor.

"Don't worry, darling, it's worth the injury," he mirrored your expression as you stopped in the middle of the dance floor. A slow, romantic song started playing in the background, his arms finding their perfect position around your waist as yours sneaked around his neck.

It was a slow and peaceful dance, not requiring much knowledge and talent. You just enjoyed each other's presence, gazes meeting, smiles forming, swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. You didn't speak a word, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It never was with Tom. A soft smile, a quick glance, a simple gesture meant more than thousands of words when you were with him.

You laid your head against his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat, taking on a quicker pace just like yours did. "I miss you when you are not with me," he spoke for the first time as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. You didn't move away; his embrace was too comfortable, and you couldn't care about people watching you.

"I always miss you. You are the one travelling all the time after all," you chuckled lightly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"I could be only a mile away and I would still miss you," he replied as you pulled back a bit to meet his soft gaze, but there was no smile present across his handsome face. As the song finished, you found yourself standing in front of him, slightly confused about the conversation. "Do you want to go to the balcony? Have some fresh air?" He asked, taking on a more cheerful expression, but you knew him more than to believe it was genuine. In a response you nodded and linked your arm with his.

Following him through the sea of people, you finally arrived at the balcony, looking down to a smaller version of a park, a water fountain standing tall in its centre. You leaned against the rail as you watched the trees battling the silent wind, fallen leaves being blown across the walking path. Tom joined beside you, his eyes following the same direction as you did before they halted on your face. "You are being strange tonight," you spoke up, feeling his gaze resting on you before you turned to him, meeting his eyes.

"I'm just thinking," he added with a half-hearted smile.

"About?" You asked as you reached for his hand resting on the rail and placed yours on top of his. He turned his palm upside down and lifted your hand, hinting a small kiss on your knuckles as he heaved a heavy sigh. "Tom talk to me," you squeezed his fingers reassuringly, his eyes watching you, not leaving your gaze for a moment. "You have been rather quiet around me," you added.

His whole body turned to you, as though he was focusing his complete attention on you. Reaching towards you, he brushed your hair to the side, gently tucking it behind your ear. You leaned into the touch involuntarily, only realising your actions when he caressed your cheek with his thumb, before moving down and running it across your lips. The feeling burnt you, starting your mind off in a very dangerous territory, one that you have been avoiding. 'He is your friend' you tried to remind yourself. But once the tip of his thumb brushed along your lips once again, you couldn't stop yourself. Stepping forward, you placed your hands on his chest, steading yourself and rose on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his.

Your own bravery surprised you, but Tom didn't seem affected. As soon as your lips met, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. He didn't hesitate, he wasn't surprised. He just held you, gently running his lips along yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. But as much as you wanted to enjoy the moment, realisation hit you. You were kissing your best friend. You gently pushed him away, stumbling back from the force, covering your mouth with your palm. "I'm so sorry," you breathed, panic rising in your chest. "I have no idea what happened, I don't know why I did that, I'm so sorry," your words were rushed, your heartbeat loudly pulsing in your ears.

But Tom's gaze twinkled. A soft, warm smile grew wider across his face as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm not," he said as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I've been wanting to kiss you," he breathed as he closed his eyes momentarily, slightly shaking his head. "I've been wanting to tell you how much I love you; I've been trying to gain the courage to say it out loud," he scoffed. "I'm a fool for dragging it out for so long, but I love you," his voice shook as he said the words, but his arms tightened around you, safely holding you against his chest. It took you a second to understand what he meant, that your feelings weren't unrequited, that he has been harbouring the same feelings you have.

A heavy sigh left your lungs, as though a weight fell off your chest. Your lips curved into a smile as you placed your hands on his cheeks, running the tip of your thumbs across his jawline. He mirrored your expression whilst leaning into your touch, planting a small kiss on your palm. "I love you too," you replied finally," the words rolling off the tip of your tongue easier than you expected. "I love you so much," you giggled, wanting to repeat the words over and over again, until you finally understood that it was real, that you weren't dreaming. "You never know what the future holds for you, huh?" You asked, repeating his words from earlier in the evening, earning a loud chuckle from him. "So, is this one of those many possibilities?" you raised a single brow.

"Could be. I have a couple more ideas," he said, his soft smile turning into a confident grin.

"You are terrible," you gently hit his chest as you grabbed his suit-jacket and pulled him down to you, meeting his lips halfway, smiling into the intimate moment you have been craving for so long.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In between the city walls of dying dreams

This if for @buckyownsmylife​​ 2k challenge. I chose the character Andy Barber and the AU ex-con.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); somnophilia, drugging, breeding, oral, fingering.

This is dark! (ex-con) Andy Barber x shy!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: One night, you’re saved by the last person you expect, but you don’t know that he’s only saving you for himself.

Note: So I woke up at like 4am and couldn’t sleep. My biggest mistake during my insomniac fits are scrolling tumblr and then I see a writing challenge and decide, hey I hate myself enough to write 6k+ words for a tatted up Andy Barber so here we are.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The streets were shiny and slick as the rain pattered across the pavement and the eaves trickled loudly. The door of the convenience store chimed as you stepped out into the drizzle with a plastic bag hanging from your elbow. It was late and you were eager to be home after a ten-hour shift, your return delayed by your visit to the shop.

A man stood beneath the beaming ‘lotto’ sign and you kept your head low as you passed him. He kept his hood up but you recognized the grey sweater. You had waited behind him as he paid before you and offered only grumbles to the cashier. You weren’t too talkative yourself although the clerk recognized you from frequent visits. You only lived a block away and it was one of the only places open after your evening shifts.

Your boots splashed through shallow puddles as you passed by the alleyway you took in the daytime, keeping to the halo of the streetlights along the grimy stretch. You had no illusions about the neighbourhood and it often reminded you of its vices. If you kept quiet and faded into the background, it couldn’t eat you up. Living downtown meant that you had to learn to ignore the alarm bells in your head and just keep going. Be vigilant but don’t be bold.

As you cleared the mouth of the alley, you heard footsteps emerge behind you. You picked up your pace and gripped the strap of your purse slung across your torso. You pulled out your phone and angled it to see the shadow following you.

There was a shawarma shop on the next corner. You could hide out there until the creep got tired and left. It was your usual trick and the owner, Mo, was especially skilled at scaring away the rabble. 

The man got closer and you gulped. You would have to start running if he got any closer. You thought of swinging at him with your plastic bag, the bottle of vitamin water would give him a good knock. You walked faster and squeezed your phone as you brought up the dial pad. There was no one you could call who would get there fast enough.

You tripped and felt the hand on your arm. You were spun back against the wall and you threw your bag around to hit your accoster. It bounced to the ground as it was batted away and the plastic bag tore in half. The bottle of vitamin water rolled over the curb and your can of soup was dented on impact. The candy bar was tangled in the white plastic and you were trapped against the brick.

“Wallet.” The man’s knife slid from the handle with a threatening whisper. “Phone!”

He wrestled your cell from your grasp as the blade kept you from resisting. He cut the strap of your purse and yanked it free from your body. Shit. That can of soup would likely be your only meal for the rest of the week… if he didn’t stab you anyway.

You readied yourself for the worst but it never came. You were suddenly released as the man was shoved away from you and the blade clattered to the ground. The stranger in the grey hood kicked his ass so he sprawled across the pavement and bent to grab the blade. He retracted it and booted the mugger a second time.

“Stay down.” He warned as he knelt to pick up the can of chicken and rice and the dark chocolate. He fished the vitamin water from the gutter but the seal had broke and it was mostly gone.

The mugger groaned and pushed himself to his hands and knees. The other man stood and pushed down on his back with his thick sole until the attacker was on his stomach.

“I’m gonna crush your ribs if you don’t get outta here. Now.” He jabbed the mugger’s side sharply. “Go!”

The man scrambled up to his feet and wheezed. He stumbled away and the other watched him until he disappeared. Finally, he turned to you and held out your goods. You took them shakily and shook your head at the vitamin water. He bent to grab your purse and your phone and held them out in turn.

“You okay?” He asked.

You nodded and took them shyly. You never said much to anyone but even if you tried, you expected your voice wouldn’t rise. You huffed at the broken strap of your bag and the scratch across the back of your phone. The screen protector was a spider web of cracks and you were thankful it wasn’t entirely fucked.

You clung to everything and warily sidestepped the man. You dropped the wet bottle in the stinking bin behind him and turned back. You looked at him and froze. He was taller and broader than the man who attacked you. He still held the knife and could do worse.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” He slid the knife into his pocket. “He didn’t cut you?”

You shook your head again. Even as his face was shrouded in shadows, you couldn’t look directly at the man. You never really looked anyone in the face, you often spoke to their shoes or the void above their heads.

“You live far?” He asked and again he received a negative gesture. “You want me to walk you? Or I can watch?”

Your eyes widened at the spatter of rain against the concrete.

“Miss,” he said with exasperation.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You whispered as if convincing yourself too.

You slipped past him quickly and he stepped back with a surprised stammer. Your soles slapped the pavement as you rushed away from him. You couldn’t be sure he wasn’t as bad as the other man. He might follow you home and try to get even further.

But he didn’t pursue you. You didn’t hear his footfalls behind you, only the steady fall of rain.

“Good night,” you heard quietly as you got to the corner. 

You didn’t look back and kept on around the bend. You sprinted all the way to your building at the end of the side street and fumbled for your keys at the door. You took a breath when you were inside at last. You were lucky but not many downtown were. That wouldn’t happen again.

🌆

After your close call, you didn’t return to the convenience store for several days and you only did so in the daylight. You had a rare day off and the spree of rain finally ceased. The sun beat down on the buildings and reflected hotly off the sidewalks. There wasn’t much to do, or much you could afford to do, so you didn’t do much in your free time.

You had to get out of your apartment, had to enjoy the nice day before you were once more trapped behind a desk. You walked up to the store and grabbed an ice cream bar from the freezer. You paid in change and claimed your treat with a tight-lipped smile.

As you approached the door, it swung outward and you retreated before you could collide with the other body. You muttered a sorry and stood aside as you waited for your path to clear.

“Hey,” the deep voice was familiar and sent a chill through you. “It’s you.”

You looked up at the man as the ice cream added to the cold flow through your veins. The same grey hoodie and broad shoulders. The man’s deep blue eyes shone beneath his tidy undercut and a thick beard trimmed his chiseled jaw. He was less sinister than the shadow you met days before.

Your eyes quickly flitted away as you remembered yourself and you looked at the door. You nodded as you cleared your throat. Speak, goddamnit.

“Thanks…again,” you croaked weakly. “S-sorry, I’m in your way.”

You tried to step around him but he was still firmly planted in front of the only exit.

“Wait,” he said gently, “Hey, I… don’t wanna seem weird but I was worried about you.”

“You don’t know me,” you said quietly to his shoes.

“Yeah, but that’s a scary thing to deal with.” His voice was firm but comforting, almost warm. Your eyes clung to the tattoo between his thumb and index finger.

“But…” you swallowed, your ice cream would start to melt soon. “You helped me. I’m okay now.”

“Well, good,” he said and finally moved. “I’m happy I could help.”

“Thanks.” You reached for the door but he beat you to it. He pushed it open and held it for you, forcing you to brush against him as you left.

“Be safe.” He called after you as the door chimed and you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, barely missing another pedestrian.

You crossed the street and stepped over the low hedges between the café and the pawn shop. The small park was oddly peaceful amid the chaos of the city and you didn’t mind sitting under the shade of the fragrant leaves. You sat at an empty picnic table and unwrapped the chocolate dipped bar.

You listened to the birds and watched the squirrels as you ate. You pulled out your phone but didn’t have enough data left to do much. You put it down as you licked clean the little wooden stick and shoved it back into the wrapper.

You flinched as a shadow blotted out the sun and you blinked up at the figure as it stopped before you.

“You again.” He smiled and your eyes fell back to the grass around his boots.

You crumpled the empty wrapper nervously and let out a nervous, “heh, yeah.”

“I’m not… following you.” He said and chuckled. “I know we kinda keep running into each other but I swear, I’m not some creep.”

You nodded and watched his fingers straighten. The ink on his knuckles made you nervous.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You looked beside you as he pointed to the bench and you shrugged. “Could I stop you?” You uttered.

He turned and sat beside you. He took a breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes. He opened it and offered you one. You shook your head and he closed the carton, tucking it away without taking one himself.

“I won’t smoke around ya then,” he said. “I’m Andy.”

He held out his hand and you eyed it. Your lashes fluttered nervously and you squeezed the garbage. He waited patiently. You felt the heat on your neck and you reached to shake his hand. He gripped yours firmly and his strength made your wits flurry. You gave him your name and looked down at your lap as he let go of you.

“I don’t blame you not wanting to talk to strangers. Especially around here.”

You stayed quiet and twisted the wrapper around the stick. Your leg jiggled and he ran his nails over his jeans.

“Maybe you’re just shy and that’s okay too. I just thought, well, there’s a lot of shady characters around here and it’s good to have someone lookin’ out for ya.” He scratched his beard and leaned back against the table. “I just wanted to say that if you see me around and you need someone to scare off the other hounds, I’m more than happy to give them a good bite.”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and stilled your leg. You nodded.

“Alright,” he stood and the whole table shifted with his weight, “Now, I’ve said my peace. You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” you wrung your hands around the bending popsicle stick entwined with the wrapped.

“Oh, and… I think I grabbed the right one.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and you noticed the awkward shape jammed into the pocket. He revealed the bottle and placed it on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

You stared at the label. It was the right flavour. You looked up and watched him head out along the path. He unzipped his sweater as he went on and pushed his hands into the pockets. You pinched your lip with your teeth and took the bottle of water. Maybe there were nice people in the city or maybe you were just that pathetic.

🌆

Back at your building, you were relieved to be out of the sun and the stifling humidity. It would be a rough summer and your box fan would do little to stave off the heat. 

After your run-in with your hero, you decided to take a walk and finished the entire bottle in your casual stroll around the paths and the little creek on the other side of the park. It was later than you thought when you got back and fought with the jammed key slot.

You opened up the inner door of the lobby at last and grunted with frustration. Not only did the slot threaten to bend your key but the door was heavier than you. You climbed the first short flight of stairs and grabbed the old banister to continue your trip up the winding case. 

You stopped as the platform above creaked and as another resident came down with a basket of clothes in hand. You stayed at the bottom to let them pass but as they descended, they stopped a step above you. Your name had your head up and your eyes, for the second time that day, met two stunning blue irises.

“I didn’t know you lived in this building,” Andy said as he cradled his laundry and turned to face you. “Small world.”

“I didn’t--” your words dwindled and you focused on the lip of the basket instead of his face. You didn’t talk to your neighbours, not since the old man had threatened to choke you in the lobby.

“I just moved in.” He said. “My first place since… well, the first place I’ve had to myself.”

“Oh,” you breathed and picked at your frilly shirt.

“Well, let me just get out of your way,” he angled away from the stairs. “I’ll probably see you around. Don’t hesitate to say hi.”

You nodded and gripped the railing as you continued up the stairs. As you reached the platform, you glanced back and he was still watching you. He smiled and finally turned away, heading towards the laundry room as he began to whistle. You climbed the next flight and took a breath.

Coincidences happened but you just couldn’t handle so many at once. Andy had been nothing but nice, he saved you from being robbed and he even replaced what he didn’t owe you. You just couldn’t believe it. 

People could be good, they could be kind, just not in the city.

🌆

Your run-ins with Andy continued. You passed him in the hall several times before you realised he lived on the same floor. Your suspicions were confirmed as you grabbed your take-out and saw him unlocking the door only a couple away from your own. You even managed to drop your fliers on his boots when you were grabbing your mails.

Each time, he was friendly and each time, you barely said a word. He was a curious man. His tattoos labelled him as dangerous but his demeanour was welcoming and compassionate. He was entirely off putting and you lived in the city long enough to be wary. And you were shy enough to be evasive.

You were tired after another late shift. The bus ride had you yawning by the time you reached your stop and your short walk to the building was less than enjoyable as the usual weirdos were out with the full moon. You shoved your key into the slot and swore under your breath as it refused to turn.

Finally, it pivoted and you yanked on the handle as the door behind you swished open and closed. A hand grabbed the side of the door and helped pull it back all the way. You peeked over your shoulder as Andy held it and you thanked him with a squeak before heading through.

He followed you a few steps back as you started up the stairs.

“You work late a lot.” He said from behind you.

“Yeah…” you said as you turned up the next flight.

“You work far?”

“Not very,” you replied as you turned again.

“Yeah, I used to be on nights and that was hell.” He humoured as you pressed on.

Your toe caught on the lip of the top step and you went hurtling forward. You tried to catch yourself and cried out as you landed on your wrist and felt an agonizing twinge. You hissed and turned over, holding your arm as it throbbed.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked as he stooped to look you over. 

Your purse had landed in the corner of the platform and your flat had slipped off in your descent. Embarrassed, you lowered your arm and nodded. “I’m fine. Just… hopeless.”

“Here,” he took your shoe from the step and slid it onto your foot. “Hey, it happens. I almost did the same thing the other day.” 

He paused and you felt him staring. You looked him in the face nervously but his eyes weren’t on yours. You felt a tickle as he pulled your skirt back to your knee. You hadn’t realised how far up it had flown.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as you rested it on your leg.

“No, it’s fine, I--” You waved him away with your good arm and but he took your other gently and bent to look closer.

He tutted as he touched the flesh and you winced. 

“It’s swelling,” he felt firmly along your wrist, “I don’t feel a break but a sprain is a serious thing.”

“How do you--” you stopped yourself. “I’ll be okay.”

“You need to wrap it.” He let go of your arm and stood. 

He grabbed your other elbow and helped you to your feet. He stepped up onto the platform and scooped up your purse.

“You have something to wrap it? You’ll need the proper support.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is. You landed on it with all your weight. I’m surprised you didn’t break something.” He insisted. “I have something, I’ll wrap it for you.”

“Really, I can…” you voice fizzled as you tried to steady yourself. “I can do it myself.”

“But will you?” He kept his hand on your arm and guided you up the last steps to your floor. “Please, for my own peace of mind, let me help.”

You stared at the stained carpet as you stopped beside him. “Why?”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” He asked.

“I’m not-- I…” You frowned. “I just don’t know you. I-I-I’m just quiet.”

“I’ve tried to know you so why don’t you let me?”

You drew away from him and watched his hand drop. You stared at the tattoos and he curled his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, well, I guess I can start by being honest.” He sighed, “Yes, I’ve been to prison. I’ve been out for a year now, I’m finally off parole, I have a job, and I’m working to live a clean life. Is that it? You think I’m some goon?”

“No, I…” you looked at the floor again. “I don’t care about that. I’m just… I don’t know what to say to people so I don’t say very much.” You swayed nervously on your feet. “And no one ever really tried to hear me anyway.”

“Well, I can do the talking or we can both just say nothing, but please, you’re wrist, an untreated sprain can do a lot more damage.”

You tilted your head back and forth and another stab of pain went through your wrist. You nodded and looked to the wall. “O-Okay.”

“Alright,” he exhaled and nudged you lightly as he urged you down the hall. 

He stopped at his door and you waited for him to unlock it. You stared inside as he pushed it open. You didn’t really know him and what you did know wasn’t reassuring. He was a convict and you were about to be completely alone with him.

“Or I can grab the bandage and meet you at yours?” He offered.

“No, no, I’m… tired. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said.

You entered and he followed. He put your purse on the small square table beside the shoe rack and you stepped out of your flats. He bent to untie his boots and left them beside your shoes. He urged you on and you looked around at the surprisingly cozy apartment. It was tidier than yours and smelled like fresh linen.

“I’ll be right back,” he gestured you to the living room and went down the short hall to closet at the very end.

You ventured past the couch as you looked around. There was a degree hung on the wall and you went closer to read it. You heard him searching the closet as you raised your brows at the framed certificate.

“Got it,” he entered and you turned away. “Ah, yeah, they disbarred me when I was charged but ah, well, it’s something to work towards. The old me.”

You bit your cheek as you stepped away from the wall and he beckoned you to him. He had you sit on the couch with your arm up as he pulled a chair close. He unwounded the beige bandage and placed the end against your wrist. He began to wind it around your arm and hooked it between your thumb and index. You watched him work and it calmed you. He pinned the loose end and placed your hand atop the cushioned arm of the couch.

“There.” He said as he sat back. “How’s it feel now?”

“A little better,” you pulled your hand into your lap. “Thank you.”

You stood awkwardly and played with the pleat of your skirt. “I should probably go.”

“If you want to or… I have some wine. It might help with the pain.”

“Oh?” You weren’t much of a drinker but you didn’t want to be rude.

“It was a gift from my parole officer since I can legally drink now. He said it better last me the next year but I haven’t even opened it. Don’t really have a reason to but… so you want a glass or should we say good night?”

You scrunched your lips and thought. You felt as if you owed him; for the night he chased away the mugger and then the park and now this.

“Uh, sure, but just a little. I don’t drink much.”

“No problem,” he stood and you sat back down.

He went to the kitchen and you listened to the clink of dishes and click of the cabinets. You looked down at your wrist and moved your fingers. Your wrist hurt a lot but the bandage alleviated some of it.

“I realised I don’t have any wine glasses,” he said as he approached, “So, I hope you don’t mind wine in a mug.”

He handed you a cup and sat down with his own. Yours had flowers around the rim and his read ‘Best Dad Ever.’

“Got ‘em from the Good Will,” he chuckled, “I’ve been meaning to replace them but you know, work.”

“Yeah,” you raised the cup and tasted the bitter red. You wrinkled your nose and he gave a low snort.

“Yeah, I never really liked cabernet but it was a gift,” he said and took a drink himself. “So what kinda work do you do?”

“I’m just a temp.” You tried another mouthful and nearly choked.

“Like office work?”

“Yeah, a floating secretary. Nothing special.”

“Mmm, yeah, I got a job down at the factory. Another favour from my parole officer but it’s not bad work.”

Your lips slanted as you thought. You didn’t say much but your face was good at filling the silence.

“What? Go on, ask it.” He leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he took another gulp.

You mirrored him and swallowed the sour wine. You wiped your lips with your sleeve and crossed your legs. “You said you were a lawyer before, isn’t it kinda… I dunno.”

“It’s different but it’s better than prison.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.”

You looked down as silence laced the air and you didn’t know what else to do but finish the wine. You could leave then. You drained the cup and set it on the round table next to the arm of the couch. You blinked as you felt the buzz of the alcohol already.

“It might just be me, but that was strong,” you said.

“No, it is,” he put his mug down too, “like thirteen percent or something. I think maybe he was trying to sabotage me.”

You tried to laugh but it came out an awkward sniffle. You tapped your foot as you tried to think of what to do or say. 

“Well, thank you but I think I should--” You stood so fast you got dizzy and nearly fell back as you held yourself up against the couch arm. “Whoo, okay, I’m going.”

“Yeah, alright,” he stood too. “It is late, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” you focused on your footsteps as you passed him and he followed you to the entryway. You took your purse and faced him. “Thank you.” You held up your wrist. “I owe you.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it myself but… you can repay me with one little thing.”

“Oh?” You pushed the strap of your purse up your shoulder as you slid your feet into your flats and swayed just a little.

“Finish the wine with me. I’m free on Saturday, we could order dinner and maybe watch a movie.”

You pouted in surprise and your eyebrows shot up. “Well, I…”

“Friends.” He said quickly, “That’s all. You pick the movie and I’ll bring the cabernet.”

You sucked in your lip and thought. He hadn’t done anything wrong to you. He had done more than he should have for you. And you were being stupid. He was older than you, certainly. The short greys poking out at his temples betrayed at least forty years and he was just another person trying to get by. 

“Okay, I can do Saturday. I work till five, just a half-shift.” You explained. “Should I meet you here or?”

“Yeah, we can do it here.” He touched your shoulder and his hand slowly slipped down your arm. He reached past you and turned the knob and pulled open the door. You moved closer to avoid it hitting you and smelled his woodsy cologne. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” you backed through the door clumsily, “thanks.”

“Saturday.” He pointed at you and then his temple, “Don’t forget.”

“I’ll… try.”

You left him and felt him watching you until you reached your door. You didn’t look back as you let yourself in and locked it behind you. You heard his own shut and let out a breath. What were you doing?

🌆

You couldn’t forget your promise to Andy. You never made plans. You were content to be alone and watch old reality tv shows and forget about your responsibilities. You hoped instead that he might forget and spare you another awkward encounter. You were never a social butterfly and conversation was like pulling teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t long for companionship, it was that it was so impossibly difficult.

But he was waiting for you. As you passed his door at 5:46, he opened it and nearly had you jumping off your feet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” He said, “Just a friendly reminder.”

“Yeah, I just need to get changed,” you fidgeted, “fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” he smiled, “any thoughts on a movie yet?”

“No,” you cringed, “sorry.”

“Go on. I’ll be waiting. You can let yourself in.” He closed the door and you went onward to your own.

You pulled out your most comfortable jeans and a shirt that wasn’t too formal or casual. You changed and fixed your hair a little and switched your socks for less sweaty ones. You slid on some shoes and reluctantly left your apartment. You went to his and knocked before you dared to enter.

“So, uh, I know I said take out,” he called from the kitchen as you inhaled the scent of garlic, “but I got a bit carried away.” “Andy,” you kicked your shoes onto the rack and crept down the hall. “You didn’t have to--”

“I haven’t cooked like this in ages. Oh, and,” he turned as you peered in from the doorway and turned back with two wine glasses poured to the brim, “I got real glasses.”

“Wow, uh…” You took the stem and carefully held it so as not to spill.

“So how was work?”

“Slow.” You answered honestly.

“Saturday’s usually are,” he turned back and stirred the frying pan. “I’m almost done so why don’t you go look for something to watch and I’ll be out with dinner.”

“Okay…” you voice trailed away nervously. He wore a tee that exposed the rest of the tats that stretched up his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but stare at the skull that seemed to look back at you.

You went to the couch and sat in the corner. You sipped the wine and it still burned your nostrils and tongue. You set the glass down carefully and turned on the television with the remote. 

You curled your legs up under you habitually and flipped through the titles. No rom coms, that’s awkward, and no horror movies or he’d pull that old high school trick. Maybe a war movie? Oh wait, that one’s about lawyers, that would be good. Or it might make him sad. Hmmm.

You settled on a superhero movie and waited with the intro paused. He appeared shortly with two plates and set them down on the coffee table as he sat beside you on the couch and pulled it closer.

“Nothing too special. I made my own spaghetti sauce though, so much better than the jarred stuff.” He combed his hair back as he set out your cutler with a napkin. “What are watching?”

“I’ve never seen this one,” you said as you hit play and the title flashed up, “Have you?”

“Oh, I don’t really watch that stuff but hey, never too old to start.” He picked up his fork and leaned forward. “Hope you enjoy. I might be a bit rusty. My-- People tell me I put too much garlic in everything.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and sat forward. You took your cutlery and carefully spun the noodles.

You were thankful for the loud crashes of the movie’s opening scene as it meant you could eat and not have to talk. The spaghetti was good and compared to your usual quick and easy meals in a box or can, it was gourmet. When you finished, you wiped your mouth and took a long gulp of the wine without thinking.

You sat back as you grew engrossed with the superheroes origin story and nearly forgot about Andy until he got up to clear the dishes. You offered to pause and he bid you to keep on. He was back in a moment and leaned back beside you. You squirmed and reached for your wine again. The taste was less stringent with each sip.

As the hero readied to face the villain, you emptied the glass and hugged yourself as a warmth glowed in your veins. You felt a hand on your leg as your eyelids drooped and you slumped into the couch. You could still feel the fingers as your fly was unzipped and you groaned as your limbs would not obey you.

The noise of the final battle faded and a heavy weight settled between your legs as tickles lined your neck and jaw, a final hungry kiss on your lips sealing your consciousness.

🌆

Andy’s POV

The wine was potent but Andy was sure to add a little extra kick. Her nerves kept her drinking the dark cabernet and she couldn’t taste the crushed pills through the acidity. He could taste the fermented grapes on her lips though and she moaned beneath him as he rolled her shirt up her torso.

He sat back to make sure she really was out. He snapped his fingers in front of her face and tapped her cheek. She mumbled but only lolled her head. He was done being patient with her. She was so shy it was enraging. He did everything he was supposed to do and she still wouldn’t even look at him. Oh, but she would feel him.

He ran his hands along her figure and basked in the warmth of her skin. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman beneath him? He didn’t like to think like that; didn’t like to remember the past and all he’d lost. He was trying to rebuild and this was the first step.

His hands settled on her stomach. It wasn’t flat and it was bit squishy, he liked that. He closed his eyes and pictured how it would grow. He would be a father again, and a husband. He would be the man he once was.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. He stripped her shirt off completely and bent to catch her nipple in his mouth as it spilled from her bra. He reached around her to unhook the bra entirely and yanked it from under her. She twitched but could not wake as he sucked at her tit and then the other.

He recalled that night on the street when he chased off that other man. It wasn’t the first time he saw her, in fact he had followed her to the store. She didn’t notice him slip in behind her or that he paid for a magazine he wouldn’t read. He remembered how he resisted that night. How he wanted to put her against that wall and finish it then and there.

Her pants slid down her legs easily as he backed off the couch. Her panties tasted like her as he pressed his mouth between her legs. He slung her knees over his shoulders and nuzzled her through the cotton until she soaked them entirely. He pulled them aside and continued to coax her. She came as a ripple flowed through her body and he drank up her unconscious excitement.

He tore her panties down her legs and looked down at her with heavy, hungry breaths. He read that women were more likely to conceive if they were aroused. He swiped his shirt over his head and undid his jeans impatiently. He was incredibly hard and he needed her around him.

He bent her legs, one leaned against the back of the couch as the other hung over the side. He dragged his fingers along her cunt and growled. He shoved his fingers into her and spread them. She was so tight it made him throb.

He pulled out and grabbed his dick. He pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed circles around it. She muttered again and turned her head but he wasn’t afraid of her waking. Even if she did, she couldn’t stop him.

He positioned himself against her entrance and pushed his tip just inside. He gasped and bit his tongue. He could’ve cum at that. He snapped his hips against her and her whole body jerked as he reached his limit. She gurgled and he thrust again.

She clenched around him, her walls hungry for him. He rocked his hips into her and watched her squirm, her eyes flitting back and forth behind her eyelids. He bent over her and pulled her arms above her, holding her hands together against the arm of the couch. He fucked her hard as the entire couch jolted beneath their bodies.

“You like that?” He whispered in her ear. “Huh, this is what you wanted. What you were so afraid of.”

He grunted and bucked even faster. Her body reacted to his and as she came, her juices added to the noise of his intrusion. His flesh slapped against hers loudly as the movie’s effect faded into the background. He grabbed her chin and watched her sleeping face as he pounded into her.

“You want it. You want me. You want me to fill you up.” He snarled. “You want my baby inside of you. You want to grow for me.” He sucked on his tongue as his body began to tense. “I’m going to fuck my baby into you, you bitch.”

He buried his head against her neck and bit into her flesh as he came. He shook on top of her as he emptied inside of her and slowed. He whimpered as he stopped his hip and lingered inside of her. He sighed and panted as he fell limp over her.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done.” He promised her deafened ears.

🌆

You were sore and stiff. You were trapped and suffocating. As you rose back to the surface, you felt the weight over you and began to panic. Your thighs were raw but numbed and your core felt hollow. You tried to remember more than the taste of wine but it was all a fog.

You opened your eyes and felt along the shoulder against your chin. The tattooed skin smelled of sweat and you could barely move beneath Andy. As you tried, you felt him inside of you and squeaked. Then the real panic began and you couldn’t breathe at all.

You beat on his shoulders and he grumbled. You felt him growing inside of you and you flailed against him.

“Please, please, get off.”

He shook his head and raised it slowly. He sat up but brought you with him as he kept you around his hardening dick. He held you in his lap and watched you struggle with his tired eyes.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked languidly.

“What did you--What are you doing?” You shoved against him and yelped as he tilted into you from below.

“What did I do? Oh, you don’t remember?”

“Don’t remember? Let me go! Please.” You whined. 

“Come on, don’t be like this. You asked for it, honey.”

“Wha--”

“Oh, you really are a lightweight,” he whistled, “you said you wanted me. You practically begged me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t-- I--”

“Well, what do you remember?” He purred as he subtly rocked into you. “Huh?”

“I don’t--I can’t remember.”

“You really going to do this to me? Act like you never wanted it? Like I didn’t try to resist you, honey, but you wanted it so bad.”

“No, I…” you stared at the tattoo across his chest.

“Look at me,” he gripped your jaw and your eyes flicked up to his. He thrust into you as far as he could and you yelped, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He bit his lip as he continued to fuck you. Your thighs clenched around his but you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“You look at me when I fuck you, huh? Yeah, look at me.”

You covered your face and he pulled your hands away. He twisted your arms behind your back and sped up as he bound you against him.

“It’s alright, honey, I already filled you up nice and good,” he cooed, “This. Is. Just. For. Good. Measure.”

He spoke between shallow breaths and your own heartbeat picked up. Your eyes welled as you couldn’t resist the waves and you came with a pathetic mewl. He pulled you close and turned his face up to kiss you. He nibbled your lip and growled as he came inside of you. 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to stop. When he did, he wouldn’t let you go. You fell forward and hung your head beside his as a sob lodged in your throat.

“It’s alright. It’s what I want.” He caressed your lower back, “You’ll want it too. You just need time.”

[spideymarvelws]

Playing truth or dare with college!Peter and MJ dares you to give him a (private) lap dance

This turned out to be much longer than expected

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

Warnings : SMUT! (Lap dance?ish?kind of? i went a bit of script im sorry, thigh riding, grinding, dirty talk, dom!peter, innocence kink, corruption kink?, masterbation, oral[male rec], mild degrading), alcohol consumption, everyone is 18+, kinda fluffy in the beginning but we do be getting smutty real quick tho, MJ being your personal wing woman

Also please dont take drinks from strangers this is fiction and not real life, always drink responsibly :)))

Word Count : 4.8k

Behind Doors

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

You tried to keep your staring to a minimum, you really did. But how could you when he stood in the middle of the crowd, glowing like an angel amongst everyone. He was laughing with his friends, his head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut and a smile that could make anyone's day so much brighter. You wanted nothing more but to run your hands through his floppy brown hair bouncing on his head as he told his mates a story, his facial and hand movements lively when he moved them around, accentuating the words falling from his mouth.

His fit didn’t help either. A tight white t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a gold chain that hung from his neck, begging to be played with in any way. It was simplistic but made you swoon all the same. His muscles printed through the fabric didn’t help much either, his biceps almost tearing through the sleeves a mouth watering contrast to his cheerful face.

It was like staring at a greek god that radiated puppy dog energy.

“You’re not being subtle you know,” MJ whispered into you ear nudging your side with her elbow, “Just go talk to him,”

You shook your head, heat rising to your face as you averted your eyes from the brown eyed boy, turning to face your best friend, “You know i can’t do that,”

“Not with that you aren’t,” she pointed at the red solo cup you held in your hand filled halfway with orange juice. She quickly snatched the cup away from you, dumping the contents in the grass of the backyard.

“Hey!” You gasped, but made no effort to stop her.

“You need to loosen up,” she stabbed her finger into the middle of your chest, shoving her drink into your hands, “All of it, now,”

You took the cup hesitantly swirling the contents inside around for a bit, watching as the liquid moved smoothly around the sides of the plastic. You looked back up at MJ, feeling small when she stared you down with a stern look. You knew you weren’t finding a way out of this one.

“Fine,” you grumbled before tilting your head back, chugging the alcohol down. You let out a few coughs afterwards, giggling as MJ started to cheer.

“That’s my girl!” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, “Now for about five more,”

Two hours and four drinks later, or maybe it was six you weren't keeping count, the party finally started to die down. The liquor running through your system did its job well in letting you loosen up so you could enjoy the party without being distracted by a certain brown haired boy.

You had lost MJ halfway through the night, your mind finally processing that she wasn’t by your side when you reached for her to dance with you. As you busied yourself by looking around the room, you felt someone place their hand on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine with the touch. You whipped your head around, expecting your equity intoxicated friend but only to be met with the same brown eyes you’ve been fawning over at the beginning of the night.

“Hey,” he said into your ear so that you heard it over all the noise. He moved his hand off your back after he got your attention. You tried your best to keep the tiny whine from escaping your throat at the loss of his touch. The free feeling you felt with the alcohol completely vanished with the sound of his voice turning you into that shy nerd all over again.

“Looking for someone?” He said, pushing the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

You stood speechless, you mouth agape that Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was talking to you. MJ was wrong, no amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for the moment. At least you didn't scurry away like a mouse like you would’ve if you were fully sober.

“I- uh,” you coughed, trying to get some words out but failing miserably.

“Sorry, It’s just I saw you looking around,” he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling at your flustered state. His cheeks starting to turn a light pink which made you swoon even harder, “I assume you’re looking for MJ, since you were with her for most of the night,”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, laughing awkwardly, looking down to the ground, “How did you know I was with her?”

“You guys are always together!” He smiled showing off his pearly whites, “Around campus you know? I’ve seen you guys together in my classes as well,”

“You noticed me?” You whispered, mainly to yourself but he managed to pick up your words, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Of course!” He passed his hand through his hair, looking straight into your eyes, “How could I not Y/n?”

You stood speechless, your mouth opening and closing as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind last minute. Millions of thoughts ran through your brain per second, the most frequent being your name rolling off his tongue.

“Anyways, uh, the main reason i came was to bring you to MJ,” he chuckled nervously, seeming just as flustered as you, “She’s in one of the spare bedrooms with some of the boys, we’re playing a good ole’ game of truth and dare,” he voice raised adorably, making you giggle lightly, “You don’t need to join or anything, but i don’t think you would want to be alone out here,”

“Yeah!” you replied a bit to quickly, shaking your head at your enthusiasm, “I mean, yeah, I would like to join you,”

“Sick!” He smiled brightly, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened at the action as he pulled you through the crowd, you looked down at the ground, allowing him to maneuver you around the mass of bodies.

“Just so you don’t get lost,” he said, looking back at you, pointing out your intertwined hands.

“Of course!” You said back, holding back your squeals of excitement.

You were honestly surprised with how sweet he was acting towards you. Despite his status as part of the biggest frat on campus, his reputation upholded him as the good boy of the group, the one who helped old lady’s across the street or bought lunch for you when you didn't have the money. Sure, you saw this on multiple occasions but to experience it for yourself was a nice change, and just solidified your crush on him even more.

When he reached the stairway vacant of anybody, he still didn't let go of your hand, only tightening his fingers around yours. He walked down the dark hallway and approached a door ,giving you a reassuring smile before turning the knob and pushing it open, revealing around eight or nine people. Some laid on the bed, beers in hand as they laughed while others sat on the couch. You spotted MJ on the floor, laughing with Harry Osborn.

“Who’s the chick Parker?” One of the boys said, silencing the room and putting everyone's attention on you.

“This is Y/n,” he gestured towards you, “Y/n, everyone,” Peter finally let go of your hand, popped himself on the edge of the bed, picking up a beer from the side table and nodding his head at the empty space besides him.

You looked towards MJ panicked, but all she did was mouth ‘go’ with a shit eating grin. You sneered back at her, rolling your eyes as you walked up to the bed, bending your right leg back to sit on your calf while the other dangled over the edge.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Peter leaned into your ear, whispering gently, “Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t have to,”

You pouted at his actions, melting at the fact that he was so observant with you. You looked down at his beer, before looking back up at him. If you were going to get through the rest of the night, you needed to be absolutely wasted.

“Do you have another beer?” You asked him, pointed to his bottle.

“You could just have mine,” he offered his drink, passing it off to you.

You bit your lip, taking a long swig of the liquid, “Thank you,”

Before the both of you could converse any longer, a girl with short blond hair you knew from English, called out from the corner, “Okay, okay, who wants to go next?”

“I think Y/n should go,” flash said, holding up his bottle towards you, “She’s the new one isn’t she?”

Peter looked at you, silently asking if you needed him to say anything. But you decided to take things into your own hands for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, taking another swig of beer.

“Alright Y/n,” Harry said smugly, leaning back on his forearm, “Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a bit, missing the smug look on MJ’s face as you muttered, “Dare”

“I dare you to give Peter a lap dance,” she said immediately, leaning back as she held in her laugh at your washed out face, “I mean we could send you to the other room if you want more privacy,”

You sat speechless and once again wanted to melt into the sheets beneath you. You felt Peter’s hand wrap around yours, giving him your attention.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered, giving you a soft smile.

“I-,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather the little confidence you had left, “Which room?”

Hollers and shouts bounced off the walls, as everyone hyped both of you up. Peter stood, pulling you up with him, leading you out the room.

“Take as much time as you need!” You heard MJ shout after you before the door closed, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as Peter guided you once again to another room. You gulped, wondering if you had made the right decision so give a lap dance to your crush. He didn’t say anything as he knocked on a door, opening it when he didn't hear any noise come from the room.

“After you,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” you said shyly, walking to the middle of the room.

Peter closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood, “Sooooo,” he dragged looking you up and down, “I- uh, didn't expect you to say yes,”

“Me neither,” you chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I mean if you don’t want to, it’s just a silly bet,” Peter said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Do-,” you coughed, “Do you want me too?”

“It’s up to you really,”

“But would you mind if i-“

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it-,”

You both laughed nervously falling into silence after that. You looked around the room, finding interest with everything besides him. You were fidgety, playing with your fingers while tapping your foot on the floor rapidly to calm your nerves. It was stupid, you’ve been dreaming about him for so long, and now that you were finally in a room together you clamed up, not knowing what to do in his presence.

Peter on the other hand kept his gaze on you, his eyes racking your body up and down. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he’d never thought of this moment, the moment where you and him were finally together, in a room, all alone.

You were different from the girls he was used to in the frat. You were untouched, well to his knowledge, you were a clean slate and from the small confrontations he’s had with you, he could tell you were obedient too.

He wanted so bad to just have his way with you, to absolutely ravish you like he did in his dreams. But he wanted to savour it. After so long of watching you pin over him, purely to feed his ego, he was ready to take things to the next level and what better way than with a good lap dance. Sure he was the good guy, both as himself and as his alternate persona as a hero, but when it comes to you, all his morals were thrown out the window.

Besides, you were both intoxicated and he didn't want your first time together to be at a stupid party in a room he was barely familiar with.

After a few more seconds of silence, Peter decided to take things into his own hands, to make his fantasy a reality, or to just get it started at least. He was the first to make a move, walking right up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him while his other hand made its way to the side of your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/n?” He asked, swiping his thumb across your lips. He may have an unhealthy obsession with them but it didnt matter because in the next few moments he would make them his, “I’m not stupid you know,”

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head to the side at his statement, confused and slightly hurt.

Peter only chuckled, slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters, “I said i noticed you, and when I mean I noticed you,” he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear, “I meant everything, down to the constant heart eyes,”

You held your breath, not knowing how to feel, what to think. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker, was standing in front of you, playing with your lips with such close proximity, telling you that he was aware of your existence. That there was a chance that he might feel the same way about you.

You had to remind yourself that this was just a bet, that he didn’t mean anything he was saying. He was only doing it because he had to. Even if he was a sweet boy by heart, he still had a reputation for sleeping around, that to him you were just another girl to add to his collection. 

But when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you knew you'd fall victim as well.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “such a good girl, just like i knew you’d be,” suddenly, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and sat back down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap, “Now, i believe you have a dare to fulfill,”

“I- uh,” you stuttered, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulder as you settled into his hold.

“You’ve never done this before, have you princess?” Peter mumbled, hovering his lips over yours.

“i-,” you shook your head, lost for words when he called you princess.

He hummed, one of his hands gripping your waist while the other laided on your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, “Let’s start off slow then,” his thumb moved to your mouth once more, playing with the bottom lip. You sat frozen, letting him take control. You didn't trust your body to move, you could barely even talk.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to kiss these perfect lips,” he whispered, moving to kiss your neck, trailing his way up to the corner of your mouth, “I’d imagine you’ve though the same,”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his shoulders. Peter laughed, his breath hot on your face.

“You’re going to need to say something if you want me to continue princess,”

“Yes,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, embarrassed by your quick response, “Yes, I-uh, I’ve thought about this, yeah,”

“Hmm, good,” he mumbled before finally latching his lips on yours, keeping your face close with his hand.

His lips were rougher that you imagined, probably from constantly licking them for most of the night. But the more you kissed, your mouths opening and closing with each other like its own dance, the more wet and lustful it became. You could feel your body begin to relax into his, melting into the warmth. His confidence only grew with the soft moans escaping your mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside when your lips parted, exploring your mouth with vigour and purpose.

Your breath hitched in response, using your own tongue to match his movements and tangling it with his, fighting for dominance you were sure he was going to win. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the short curls at the base of his neck, smiling when he groaned into your mouth. You beamed at him when you finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips.

“This seems more than just a lap dance,” you let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled, using his hands to bring your hips closer to his crotch, your dress rolling further up around your waist.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he said cockily, leaning back on his forearms, looking back at you expectantly.

You let out a breath, readjusting yourself on his lap before moving your hips slowly. Your pussy barely made contact with his now hard cock poking through his jeans, teasing it ever once in a while when your panties brushed the tent. You smirked, despite not knowing what the hell you were doing, it seemed like you were doing a decent job.

“Don’t get to cocky princess,” he groaned, squeezing your waist tightly, “You forget that I’m the one in charge here,”

You bit your lip, muttering a soft sorry.

He hummed, nudging his nose with yours, “Let me help you then,” 

He grasped your hips, pulling your it closer to his crotch, grinding it against your core. You let him guide you with his hands, following his lead supporting yourself with your own hands clutching on to his shoulder.   

He let out a long sigh, his head falling back. You took that as the queue to grind faster, enjoying the effect you had on him with such a simple movement. Your confidence grew with the noises escaping his throat along with the occasional praise only fueling your need.

In a rush of the moment, you moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. It was much more sloppier and messier than the previous one, your focus more on moving your hips than keeping your lips in sync with his.

But you wanted more. As much as you enjoyed Peter’s eyes trailing your body, his hands exploring your waist and the angelic look on his face, you couldn't help but wonder if it stopped there. If you could make his moans louder, his hips jut against your with need, just as much as you needed him.

After a few more moments, an idea popped into your head with the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

“Peter,” you decided to purr in your ear, biting your lip when his eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with lust.

“Yes princess,” He cooed, moving his hands back to your waist while keeping eye contact, brushing his lips over yours. But before he could fully kiss you, you pulled away, giggling at the little whine he let out.

“What is it?” he pouted, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond, only biting your lip in thought. He grabbed your jaw, focussing your gaze back on him, “You were being such a good girl, what happened hmm?”

“I- I have an idea,” you gulped, the confidence you felt seconds ago melting away under his stare, “Do you have a speaker?”

He nodded his head, pointed to a desk in the corner with a small black speaker sitting on top. You smirked, hopping off his lap and running to the box. Peter leaned back on hands, watching with curious eyes as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, tapping it open and typing in your password.

“What’s going through that head of your princess,” he mumbled, but loud enough for you to hear.

You only giggled in response, playing around with the speaker to turn in on. After a few more seconds of fiddling, you spun around with your phone in hand and a teasing smile on your face. Your finger pressed down on the screen, the room filling with the song Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet.

He scoffed, “And here I am thinking you were just an innocent little thing,” 

You bit your lip, looking down shyly and placing your phone on the table, your back facing him, “I just wanted to set the mood,”

“Was grinding down on me not enough?” he teased, “Are you always this greedy?”

You let out a breath before turning around, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Only with you,”

You glanced up at the brunette face, nervous that maybe you took it too far. It was just a simple lap dance, nothing more and nothing less and you should've kept it that way. But the kiss was addicting, keeping you in a daze where all you wanted was more. More of his touch, his mouth, his taste.

You’ve wanted him for so long and now that you dipped your toes in the waters, you wanted to dive in and never come out. What really kept you going was his reactions to your touch, the small grunts and moans escaping his mouth because of you. He wanted this as much as you did or else he would’ve shut you down by now, right?

You were just getting ahead of yourself.

“Come here Y/n,” he almost growled, his eyes never leaving you while you shuffled your way between his legs, yelping when he gripped your waist and pulled you back down. Instead of straddling his waist, he moved you so your legs were on either side of his left thigh.

You went to speak but the gripped your jaw with his forefinger and thumb, forcing your eyes on him.

“You never fail to surprise me princess,” he whispered, his free hand trailing up your waist, brushing past your breasts, “I thought I had to treat you like a good girl, take my time with you” he chuckled darkly, “Turns out you need this just as much as I do, my greedy, desperate little thing,”

You bit your lip, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to avoid his stare. The pet names he gave you was already enough to leave you a mess but adding ‘my’ in front of it made you melt. You wanted to be his, you wanted him to take control of your body and use you as he pleased. He adjusted his thigh, having it bump against your clothed pussy. Heat rose to your face when you let out a small whimper, settling back on his leg, craving the friction but you didn’t move, waiting for specific instructions.

“You weren’t so shy before, what happened?” he kissed the shell of your ear, “Go on princess, ride my thigh like the desperate whore I know you are,” 

Without thinking you began to grind your pussy along his thigh, your face growing hotter when you felt the wetness seep on to his jeans. Peter kept his hands on your waist, keeping your movements at his own past, occasionally bouncing his leg, enjoying the little whines you let out. When you started moving faster, he knew you were nearing your high.

“Princess, look at me,” he grunted,“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,”

You let out a shaky sigh, pulling your head up to face him but you could barely keep your head up, too concentrated on moving your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. He quickly recognised this and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to get some of your attention. 

“Peter,” you whimpered, near to tears with how close you were to climaxing, “Peter please,”

“What is it princess? You want to cum? Is that it?”

You nodded quickly, “Please,”

“Go ahead princess,” he grinned, smashing his lips against your to swallow your moans as you came on his thigh, your hips moving in slow strokes to prolong the feeling. You pulled away after a few moments of feverish kissing, your arms falling limp around his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your forehead falling against his with the breathless laugh, “That was-”

“Great? Amazing? The best experience of your life?” he laughed, falling back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. You giggled, shoving your face in his neck and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Yeah,” you turned your head to face him, pouting when a piece of his hair fell in front of his stunning eyes. You moved it out of his face, kissing his nose in the process, “I liked it a lot,”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.

All of a sudden you felt something poke at the inside of your thigh. It took you a few moments to realise that he was hard and was probably aching to get off at this point in the night. 

“Do- do you want me to help?” you said shyly, sitting up on your hands to fully face him.

“You don't have to princess,” his hands passed up and down your waist, “Seeing you fall apart from my thigh is all I needed tonight,”

The twitch of his eye and dryness of his lips told you otherwise. 

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip, moving your hand slowly down to his hard on, “because I don’t mind helping Petey,”

You didn’t know where the nickname came from but it was too late to take it back. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the almost cynical look on his face he didn’t mind.

“You want to help me princess? Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

You shook your head eagerly, “Just tell me what you want,”

“And what if i want you to suck my cock?”

“I would do it,”

“Do what?”

“Su- suck your cock,” you replied bashfully looking down at your hands now intertwined on his stomach.

“Aww, is my princess getting shy?” he fake pouted, “After getting off on my thigh like a slut, you’re getting shy about taking me in your mouth?”

“I-”

“It’s alright princess i’ll guide you through it,” he reached down to unzip his jeans, shuffling awkwardly to push them down so he could get his member out. You watched as his hard dick slapped against his chest, big and throbbing.

He moved your hips back so that you straddled his legs this time, taking your hand and raising it to your mouth.

“Spit,” he instructed, looking up at you with hunger, “Now,”

You hesitantly spit into your hand, watching in awe as the wad fell into your hand.

“Good girl,” he sighed, moving your hand to wrap your small finger around the base of his cock, “Have you ever jerked someone off princess?”

“Just two,” you respond hesitantly.

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to get the idea of you touching anyone else out of his mind, “Well let's make this your third and final guy hmm?” his breath hitched when you started to move your hand up and down his cock, “You’re mine now princess,”

In the spur of the moment you leaned down, licking the red tip of his member, “Only yours,” you whispered before taking him halfway in your mouth, gagging and pulling yourself back up.

“Take your time princess,” he gulped, “fuck but you could do that again if you’d like though,”

You giggled, licking and kissing the sides of his cock and taking it once more, reaching further than this time than you did the last. You bobbed your head continuously only raising your head to take a breath and going in again.

“Fuck princess, I knew your mouth would be good,” he groaned, “You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good down your throat, fuck!”

You smiled around his length, the back of your throat contracting around the tip making him moan your name. Before he could praise you even more, someone's voice cut his words off.

“Everything alright in there?” MJ said through the door but you were too lost in your daze to answer or recognise her voice.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Peter smirked, pushing you to take the rest of his cock, “We’re just going to take longer than expected,”

...

Part two maybe??

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[buckysgoldenheart]

Just Us

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.

Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.

Words: 2732

Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.

“Don’t mind us,” You called to Henry from over your shoulder as you shed your coat and draped it on the hook. “This is James.”

Henry only grunted in response, not looking up from fixing his dinner; peanut butter about to be spread messily on a slice of wheat bread. You rolled your eyes, took James’s coat and led him over to the couch where he smiled sweetly when you invited him to sit and offered him a drink.

Entering the kitchen, you opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. “So?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you searched for the bottle opener in the junk drawer. Henry dropped the knife with a clang on the countertop, then turned to you and crossed his arms.

“So, you just thought this was fine,” He asked, his voice dripping with aggravated sarcasm as he shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Just whatever, no big deal?”

You chuckled at the weak argument you’d had at least three times before. You wouldn’t have given him the chance to say anything about your date at all if you knew he wasn’t going to hang on to it the entire night just to explode in the morning for bringing a stranger into his home. Your home too, you would often have to remind him. So, it was your mission to let him get the anger out early in the night. You’d be less likely to have to worry about it later and could focus your attention on the man sitting in your living room rather than Henry’s imminent frustration.

“Henry,” You sighed and took a sip of your beer. “As of right now, it’s just the continuation of an innocent date. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“As of right now?” Henry huffed deeply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that if it gets a little heated, I promise not to make out with him in front of you, but at this current time, you have little to worry about.”

He sucked in a long breath through his nostrils. “Ok, that’s—”

“And we won’t fuck on our couch. I’ll take him to my room so you don’t have to see anything scarring,” You teased with a wink.

“Ok, enough.”

“And we won’t be loud, I swear.”

“Enough!” He snapped. You quickly whipped your head around the corner to see if James heard, but he was still sitting there, playing with his fingernails as he patiently waited for you like the gentleman he was. When you looked back at Henry, he was practically quaking with anger. “Get that asshole out of my apartment.”

“Um, our apartment. And no thank you.” You smiled and cocked your head to the side as innocently as you could. “I’d like to be having sex tonight.”

“With him?” Henry pointed a long finger in your date’s general direction. The fury in his eyes could’ve stabbed James through the back of his head if the wall weren’t in the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N. Have some self-respect.”

Your playful smile instantly dropped, and if you weren’t leaning against the wall, you would’ve stumbled. Henry had said a lot of things before; Hurtful things, things that made you want to slap him, but something about this felt worse. Assuming you were devaluing yourself by wanting to have sex with a man who was sweet, and kind and generous, and million other lovely things men, other than Henry, have never been to you, was like a stab to the gut. Henry was your best friend; you were his. You supported his choices and dreams, and it seemed Henry did the same for you unless it came to this very particular subject. He hated every man you brought around, but bringing them around or getting involved with them did not make you a stupid girl who cannot take care of herself.

“Jesus Henry, stay in your lane, would you?” You said, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple with your free fingers. “I don’t need my best friend giving me shit. Why can’t I bring a guy here without you acting like a complete dick to him and me?”

He stepped closer until you had to look up to meet his glare. “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N. Figure it out,” he growled, then moved around you, but you grabbed his arm before he could escape yet again. Every time, he tried to escape. Every time, he stomped away from you like a grump as if you had some reason to be sorry or ashamed, and you weren’t having it any longer.

“We aren’t children, Henry. I’m not playing this game. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.”

He stared at you for a long beat, but then shook your hand off him and made his way down the hall, slamming the door to his room once he was inside.

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

James was better than most at kissing you, and you’d kissed your fair share. He knew what you wanted--how you liked things--without you needing to ask, and it was like its own little miracle. There was no fumbling around. His lips were firm and his arms around you were strong. He was confident in his touch on your skin as you straddled his lap, and all of it combined had you a moaning, whimpering mess.

“I wasn’t sure we would actually get to do this,” He said between kisses as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Why?” You lightly chuckled, your fingers skimming down to the little buttons holding his shirt together and easing one open. “I’m certainly having a good time.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am too, but Superman there looked like he wanted to kick my ass.”

Fucking Superman. That asshole had come out of his room at random, inconvenient times as you and James lightly pawed at one another throughout the movie, and you both could feel Henry’s eyes on you. After the look he gave you the first time he came into the living room, you stopped turning your heads his way when his heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood.

You made a low humming sound that had James’s cock twitching in his pants, and you moved your head down to peck your lips against his. “Don’t bother with him,” You whispered.

He leaned into the light scratching your nails were giving the side of his scalp, and with a groan, said, “If you say so, babydoll, I won’t give it a second thought.”

“Good.” You smiled, satisfied, then kissed him again but he pulled back barely a minute later.

“It’s just…the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a protective friend.” You snickered and ground your hips down on his a little harder to get him back on track.

He groaned as his fingers dug into your waist, but it didn’t distract him. “No, it’s not only that. It’s like…” His lips pursed trying to find the words. “He looks at you in a way that friends normally do not look at one another.”

“He’s got some weird attitude tonight, ok? It’s nothing.” Grabbing his cheeks, you forced him to look directly at you when you said, “Now keep kissing me before I get too impatient.”

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

At two in the morning, you figured you were safe. You figured there would be a direct and easy path to the front door of your apartment as you let James out with a smile and a goodbye kiss and promises to text one another the next day, though you weren’t sure how much either of you really meant it. And you were right, there was an uninterrupted tiptoeing to the door. It was when you turned back for your bedroom that you realized the path had a roadblock.

Henry stood in front of you, the fumes nearly visibly wafting off him, with the harshest look he had ever directed at you taking over his entire face. It was a disservice to his handsome features and made your stomach twist uneasily.

“Is this for fucking real right now?” He growled so intensely it vibrated in your ears. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“Jesus, Henry, you scared me.”

“You actually slept with that guy?”

“Wh—”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Laughing half-heartedly, he ran one of his hands down his face, but that was all it took for the shock to wear off and for your annoyance to set in.

“Ok, I’m done with this. What is your goddamn problem?”

The two of you didn’t fight this way. Not for long anyway, and even so, this time was significantly worse than any other. Outbursts happened for the both of you, snapping, and words you wish you could take back, but Henry was still looking at you the way he had earlier in the night; like you were a reckless child he was losing respect for by the minute, and it broke your heart.

He stared at you as if expecting you to have an answer to your own question, but when you didn’t continue, he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I’m going to a hotel. I can’t be here right now.”

“What? Henry, why?”

His keys were in hand, his phone and wallet tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, when it finally registered to you that he wasn’t kidding. He was leaving so fast he didn’t care to take anything other than the necessities with him. That’s how much he wanted to get away from you, and you hated it. You never wanted to get away from him.

Light from the hall streamed through the doorway as you finally began to follow after him. You grabbed at his t-shirt when he wouldn’t respond to your repeating calling of his name, and he whipped around fast with a frown down at you. Your mouth kept opening and closing, unsure of what to say.

He sniffed once, thinned his lips, and removed your hand from his body, then as calmly as he had spoken all night, said, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

Then door was slammed behind him, jarring you and leaving you to soak the night in.

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

When he said those words to you, the six words that he would never be able to take back, the ones that irrevocably changed your friendship in the blink of an eye, everything inside of you began to tremble and vibrate and beat with such intensity you could almost feel the functions of your body. Your blood was pumping a hell of a lot faster and you heart was ready to burst.

Your brain, your skin, the nerves and veins under that skin; every bit of you was working overtime to help process what happened and keep you alert as you did so, and maybe it was all a little overkill, but he had said the one thing you never thought you’d hear.

I’m in fucking love with you.

It would repeat over and over in your head, bouncing around the walls of your skull as it tried to find a way to escape, but there was no use. You could never forget his confession, or the way he said it. There was something desperate about it, weak. There was exhaustion, as if he were tired of holding it back and had given up on even trying.

It was too much. You’d never dismiss it, and God, when he got his ass back home you wouldn’t let him brush it aside, but for now, it was too much.

You wanted sleep after sitting completely still for two hours, staring into space. So you carried your body to the closest room, his room, crawled into his bed, and tangled yourself within the sheets until you wouldn’t be able to unwrap yourself without effort you did not possess at such an ungodly hour. You were stuck, trapped, engulfed by him, just like you wanted to be. Then you took his king-sized pillow, massive like his body, and hugged it to your chest, tucking your face in it. It smelled like him, all musky and piney and perfect in a way that always made you dizzy when he would sit a little too close and drape a long arm around your shoulders as you watched tv or read a book.

And you cried yourself to sleep, wishing he was beside you.

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

Henry came back in the morning, though he wasn’t sure how he gathered the courage. Maybe it was the fact that it was you. Just you, his best friend, his roommate. He loved you in more ways than one, and perhaps it was that knowledge that made him a little stronger.

He’d face you, and he’d do it with the intention of making everything clear. He was in love with you and it wasn’t going to change. He loved you as his friend; that wasn’t going to change either, and no way in hell was he going to lose you twice over.

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry unlocked the front door and eased his way inside. You weren’t around the sunlit soaked first floor of the apartment, and when he traipsed upstairs and nudged your door open, you weren’t there either. He wanted you tucked in your bed, not gone and probably terrified at the thought of seeing him, so running to James’s or Jake’s or Jason’s apartment to avoid him. That would be the perfect painful exclamation point on the disaster of his poor decision making.

Then he found you. Not missing, but snug in his bed, warming the mattress with your body as it dipped the slightest under your weight. Everything about the sight killed him and melted his heart simultaneously. There you were, laying peacefully angelic, right where he had wanted you for months. And it looked so beautifully natural.

Not even stopping to think, Henry inched his way to the other side of his bed, lifted the duvet and slid beneath it. He reached an arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss your forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of your neck. When you stirred, he leaned back to take in your face as your eyebrows scrunched and your lips parted in a yawn.

You didn’t open your eyes but rose a hand, placed it on his cheek, and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth. As the goosebumps spawned all over his body, he wasn’t even sure you were fully awake, but then you whispered, “It was always you, Henry. Always.”

Henry swallowed hard as your sleepy voice continued.

“I figured you weren’t an option, and I was doing my best working around that.”

After running a hand over your hair and tucking some behind your ear, Henry pressed a kiss to your lips. A short, soft one to see how you’d react. Then you opened your eyes slowly and met your Y/E/C with his blue.

“Do it again,” You said, and so he connected your lips a little firmer, tightening his hold on you, and rolling on his back until your body splayed over his.

You moaned when he caressed his tongue against yours after opening your mouth an inch. Your heart fluttered in your chest the stupid way dramatic, moony-eyed women often described it in novels. You thought it was a myth, the idea that anyone could make you feel so loved just from a kiss, and you’d lost hope for that kind of thing long ago. But Henry ripped your pessimism to shreds in a matter of minutes.

“I want you to be mine,” he mumbled against your lips. “Just mine.”

“Then I’m yours,” You said without hesitation, tilting your head back enough to look in his eyes. You nudged your nose against his. “Just yours.”

---

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