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cherry-holmes · 9 months

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Happy birthday, Javi | Javier Peña x F!reader❤️‍🔥

‘Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña'

Chapter 8

MASTERLIST

Summary: It’s Javi’s birthday and you want to gift him something he has been wishing for a while: you.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female reader

Word count: +4k

Warnings: Established relationship. SMUT. Soft porn with a lot of plot😅 – Loss of virginity. P in V sex. Protected sex. Soft sex. Nipple play, oral sex (fem received), fingering. A brief mention of breeding kink. Praise kink.

A/N: It’s me, hi! I’m gonna be honest, I am so nervous for this! This is my first English work ever! And I’m not an English native speaker, but I am a student translator so I hope there’s no so much problem🥲 I’m sorry if you find some errors, please let me know if there’s any and I’ll fix it asap!

A/N 2: IMPORTANT BEFORE READE! As you know, this was the first work I published and, to be honest, at the time I didn't plan to turn it into a whole series. However, upon seeing the good response to this first writing, I was inspired to create an entire universe between our Reader and Javi. Therefore, this part now contains INCONSISTENCIES and INACCURACIES regarding the current timeline of the story. I decided not to modify it so as not to affect those who have already read it, but I hope that if you are readers of the original series, you can adapt it and understand the space-time in which our couple finds themselves.

I hope you like it!❤️✨

•

Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man, especially when it came to matters of sex. He believed that women had the same rights as men to explore themselves and have numerous experiences with their sexuality. There's nothing quite like a woman who knows exactly what she wants and how she wants it.

But there was something about the fact that the only woman he had truly fallen in love with, his girlfriend, was still a virgin. It turned him on immensely. The mere thought of your innocence and the opportunity he had to make you feel truly good for the first time made him feel incredibly lucky. And also it made his cock throb.

The thought of you every night, and the things he could teach you in his bed, consumed him. His only desired was to lead you astray, turning you into a temptress. However, he never rushed you into anything you didn't want.

Of course, he felt disappointed the first time you both came so close to consummating your love on his couch, after a session of tender kisses here and there. He was already aroused, and he sensed that you were ready too. However, when you expressed uncertainty, he immediately stopped. He held you and reassured you that it was okay. He genuinely meant it, even though he had to take a cold shower by himself to cool off.

You had been with him for almost five months now, which really made you reflect on how quickly time flies. What's more, it was hard for you to believe that Javier had gone all those weeks without sex. He had a reputation, and you were well aware of it. He used to go from woman to woman; some of them you even knew from work, and others were his informants from the streets of Bogotá.

Initially, you were intimidated by his reputation as a heartthrob, a man afraid of commitment, as you had heard from office gossip. You didn't want to be just another one-night stand for him. You were the boyfriend-girlfriend kind of person. The dates, flowers and late night dancing kind of woman, someone who valued commitment, loyalty, and meaningful relationships. Plus, he was older than you, and you thought the age gap could be a problem when it came to establishing priorities in life. He was in his late 30s, and yet he didn't show any signs of wanting to settle down. It's not like you were desperate to get married; you were barely 26. But you needed to know if what you had could potentially lead to something more meaningful someday. You had a big crush on him and you wanted to make it last.

That's why you made him chase you for three months, wanting to see if he was trustworthy and if you were truly worth it to him. And then, after you said yes, he spent another fifteen weeks waiting for you, because he had fallen deeply in love with you. Your smile or even just a glance from you made his heart race every time. He felt like he didn't deserve the world because of all the sins he had committed, yet there was a piece of heaven in the shape of you right in front of him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was the middle of June, to be more specific, Javi's birthday. You had spent the entire week asking him about any plans he might have for his special day, but he had insisted that he didn't want anything specific, just to spend the day with you. But you wanted him to have a great day to show him how much he was loved and important for you. And one of the things you planned was something he had been waiting patiently for quite a long time: you.

You were ready for him now. You had been dreaming about him all over you, his hands on your body, and the things he would let you do to him, and vice versa.

You two didn't live together yet, but you used to spend most days and some nights at his apartment, just like that morning when you woke up earlier than usual. He was still sleeping by your side, his bare chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. He looked younger in that moment, with his messy hair, his face at rest, and his always furrowed brow now relaxed. He looked so innocent.

You didn't know it, but before you, he barely slept. He used to have sex with women but always slept alone, or at least, tried to. He spent endless cold nights tossing and turning in his bed, attempting to forget all the blood and violence he had witnessed during the day. But then there he was sleeping like a child, knowing you were right there and you would never left.

You got out of bed as quietly as possible to avoid waking him up. You retrieved the small shopping bag you had hidden in the closet and tiptoed to the bathroom. You had bought lingerie—a beautiful red lace babydoll that resembled a princess gown but with much less fabric, of course. The color matched your freshly painted nails, and your hair appeared even brighter with that color palette. You completed your look by applying a touch of color to your cheeks, lip gloss, and his favorite perfume of yours.

As you gazed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your cheeks flushed at the sight of yourself in that lingerie. You looked beautiful, and you had never felt more sexy. You returned to the bed where he was still in the arms of Morpheus. You lay down next to him, admiring his handsome features, and then placed a gentle peck on his cheek, hoping it would wake him up. But it didn't. So, you decided to gently turn his face toward you, using a finger on his chin to guide his lips to yours. It worked like a charm. He responded to your soft touch, kissing you back passionately. He purred with satisfaction and pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist. Then, his groggy eyes widened as they roamed over your delicate figure. Confusion flickered across his face for just a fraction of a second before he realized. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes darkened, and he swallowed hard at the sight.

"You like it?" Your voice was a whisper, and in that very moment, he was the only one in the world who could hear your words. "Feliz cumpleaños."

He looked up at you, grinning with eyes full of desire, and appeared so alluring, almost like the devil himself. He hadn't said a word yet, and you were apprehensive about what his voice would do to you when he used it. With just the way he looked at you, he had you wrapped around his finger. You began to feel aroused, and now you knew that there was no force in the world that could stop you from doing what you were intended to do. Your lips met his once more, and your hands found their way to his broad chest, feeling his smooth, tanned skin melting beneath your fingertips.

He broke the kiss again, this time to take your hand and guide you out of the bed. He sat down at the corner of the mattress, placing you standing between his legs. You couldn't help but notice the bulge forming in his sleeping pants, causing you to blush.

"C'mere, baby, I need to see you," he whispered. His hands roamed all over your body, exploring every ribbon and every spaghetti strap, caressing the parts where the lace were too transparent. "You look gorgeous," he praised and you felt the heat travel from your cheeks to your core.

You felt a little ashamed tho, not used to being so exposed to anyone before. On the other hand, Javi was mesmerized by how you looked, every one of your curves, and how the babydoll suited you so well. He couldn't believe that it was happening; he was over the moon. But he needed you to know something.

"Are you sure, amor?" he asked, finding your eyes. He did his best to be serious, not wanting to appear too eager and pressure you. "There's no rush. It doesn't have to happen just because it's my birthday," he continued, but you silenced him with another kiss, feeling the muscles in his shoulders relax even more.

"I am ready, Javi," you promised. "I've been thinking about this for like two weeks," you confessed, and he chuckled.

"You have?" he asked, and you nodded. He left a gentle kiss on your lips and seated you on his knee. "Look at me, baby," he said. "You tell me if you want to stop, anytime, okay?" You nodded. "As I told you, there's no rush. We'll just have fun as long as you feel comfortable. We're taking things slow."

You knew it! You knew he was the one. His words meant everything to you. You couldn't feel more comfortable and protected with him. Sex was one of the most vulnerable and exposed scenarios for a person, yet you felt like you could do it with your eyes closed, not worrying about anything else in the world as long as it was Javi touching and caressing you.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, mi amor. Do you trust me?"

"With my entire life, Javi," you answered.

He smiled again, proudly, and took you by the waist. Without wasting any time, he placed you in the center of his bed. You opened your legs, inviting him to take his place between them. He admired you from the top, your body so sexy in that garment, your flushed cheeks, and your shining eyes. That image used to be in his dreams, but now there you were, right in front of him, on the verge of being completely his. And only God knows how much he wanted to be entirely yours.

Javi bent over you, his hands caressing every inch of your body, worshipping you. His lips left wet kisses on the delicate skin of your neck, jawline, and collarbone. Your hands roamed his arms, where his prominent muscles bulged from supporting his weight to avoid crushing you.

And then you felt his hardened cock against your core, making everything feel more real. You moaned in the middle of a kiss, overcome by the sensation and anticipation of what was about to happen. Javi began to press his bulge against the delicate fabric of your panties, leaving a wet spot on his pants.

His hand reached for one of your breasts, gently caressing your hardened nipple, causing a moan to escape into his mouth. The touch sent electric shocks through your core, making you grow increasingly wet.

"Javi, Javi..." you cried out, moving your pelvis to meet him halfway, trying to alleviate the building urgency stemming from your clit.

"You're so needy," he whispered into your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine and painting your skin with goosebumps. "Tell me what you want, preciosa, I want to hear you."

"Touch me, please," you begged as he moved against you. "Please, I need you."

"Fuck," he growled. His hands went to your back, undoing your bra, and he paid careful attention to the way your breasts were revealed for him.

His lips began on yours but then trailed down your jaw, finding their way to your neck. Wet kisses on your chest made you sigh, and then you lost all coherent thought the moment he captured one of your nipples with his mouth. Your back arched, and your fingers tightly gripped his arm. He moved to the other nipple, teasing with his tongue and teeth. Your whimpers filled the room, his name escaping your lips like a prayer, as you surrendered all control over your own body. You didn't want him to stop; you wanted more, so much more.

As if he were a mind-reader, his hand slipped into your panties. His thick fingers parted your wet folds, caressing you up and down, collecting your honey as they found your clit. A gasp escaped your lips due to the sudden and new sensation, feeling your arousal dripping from your sensitive pussy. You couldn't help but moan louder, your toes curling between the covers at the foot of the bed.

"You're so wet already, baby. That's so fuckin' good" He traced soft circles, bringing you relief. He teased your entrance with his fingers, but he didn't penetrate deeply. His thumb continued to stimulate your throbbing clit, while his middle finger attempted to enter you. You could feel the pressure between your folds, and due to your inexperience, it left you feeling overwhelmed.

Now it was your turn to slip your hand inside his pants, something Javi hadn't seen coming. He had been so concentrated on your pleasure that he didn't notice until you wrapped your trembling hand around his hard, warm cock. His skin felt like velvet under your touch. You began moving up and down, a little clumsy and uncertain if you were doing it correctly, but your desire was for him to feel as good as he was making you feel. In response, Javi let out a deep moan, his hips instinctively moving to find your touch, and he started whispering your name like a prayer.

"Yeah, baby, you're such a good girl," he praised, making you moan and became wetter. A few seconds passed, until he moved, ceasing his touch and forcing yourself to let him go. "I need to taste you," he said, slowly tracing a path with his kisses down your body, starting with the exposed skin of your breasts, then moving to your stomach and bellybutton, until he reached your panties. You watched as he positioned his head between your thighs, leaving gentle kisses on each side and slowly making his way toward your core.

"I think you don't need these anymore, sweetheart," he whispered as his fingers gripped the tiny straps on each side of your panties, slowly removing them. A gentle breeze caressed your wetness, and you let out a shivery sigh. He created a trail of soft kisses that led to your center until he finally began kissing your core. The sensation was unexpectedly delicious. You let out a cry and felt the impulse to close your legs, but he prevented it by grabbing you and making you stay still. You lost yourself in a whirlwind of sensations, where only you and Javi existed.

You were a virgin, but you weren't a saint. Of course, you had pleasured yourself before, often thinking of Javier Peña, but the way he was making you feel with his mouth was something else entirely. He was real, devouring you with the hunger of a starved man. His hands caressed your hips, your belly, and reached for your breasts. You couldn't help but whimper and praise him.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. Unconsciously, Javi began to thrust his hips against the mattress, feeling the moist spot of precum staining his pants and boxers. His balls had become heavier, desperate for attention after several weeks without a woman's touch. Of course, he had taken care of himself, jerking himself off in the shower or during the nights he spent alone in his apartment. He always thought of you, reminiscing about your kisses, the warmth of your body against his, and even the way your pencil skirt hugged your heart-shaped butt around the Colombian Embassy.

"Javi... I... I want to come," you whimpered, feeling a knot growing steadily in your belly, signaling your impending climax. Meanwhile, Javi tasted your sweet honey pouring on his tongue. He intensified his attentions, fastening his sucks on your swollen clit, alternately licking your vulva and your entrance. Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, seeking something to hold onto as you approached your powerful orgasm.

You shattered into a million little pieces, melting all over his mouth, your essence dripping from his chin. He admired your body as it trembled and unraveled in front of him.

"There you go, baby, let it go," he encouraged.

You lost track of time, caring about nothing else; the entire world had disappeared beneath you, and you couldn't care less. As you descended from your peak of pleasure, Javi traced a trail of tender kisses from the curve of your hips to your belly and up to your neck. Until you felt his lips on your mouth again, and you moaned when you tasted yourself on him. You wanted so much more of him, to spend your entire life tangled with him in his bed.

Javier felt your heart beating rapidly against his chest, and for a moment, he thought that you might be tired and overwhelmed. But you proved him wrong by starting to pull his pants down, freeing his dick. You felt his weighty member against your belly, so you looked down. It was the first time you saw it. You found yourself even more aroused, if that was possible, and at the same time, you felt a touch of shyness. By this point, you had allowed him to kiss your entire naked body, bringing you to climax with his skillful mouth, and yet, your cheeks burned at the sight of his cock above you. He couldn't help but notice the pearl-white drops of his pre-cum that painted your lower belly.

"Baby, if you're tired, we can save it for another time," he managed told you, even though he didn't stop you from helping him remove his pants and boxers.

"I want you inside of me, Javi," you begged, your voice carrying more desperation than you had realized. "I want to make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

"You're such a naughty girl, who would've known?" he chuckled.

"Only for you, Javi," you assured him.

His eyes darkened further, drawing nearer to your lips again. "I can't believe no one has ever touched you before," he said, "You're every man's dream."

"Many had tried," you confessed. He felt a wave of jealousy, because he knew it was true and he couldn't bear the thought of another man touching you, kissing you... It made him feel selfish, but he couldn't help it. "But no one but you was worthy. I waited for the right moment; I always knew it would be the right man. And I knew it was you the very first moment I saw you."

"I swear I'll spend the rest of my life being worthy of you," he said, dead serious, and you could tell from the look in his eyes.

After placing a peck on his lips, you said, "You can start by fucking me," with a shy smile on your face. You were attempting some dirty talk, but he could tell from the way you whispered and tried to hold back a laugh that it made you feel a bit awkward. He also promised himself that he would help you get used to it, taking charge of teaching you.

"Your wish is my command, bonita" he answered. Javi reached for the first drawer of his nightstand and, without searching too much, took out a condom.

He knelt between your legs, and you watched him put it on. He was bigger and thicker than you had imagined. For the first time that night, you felt a wave of nervousness coursing through your body, anticipating the pain you had always heard about the first time.

Would it hurt? Would he be gentle enough with you? Would there be any bleed? These thoughts raced through your mind as he positioned himself at your entrance, collecting your wetness with the head of his dick. He had been so focused on this moment that he hadn't noticed your worried expression until he looked up at you for a kiss. In that very moment, he stopped, his heart skipping a beat. He didn't want you to feel unsure or uncomfortable. His only desire in that moment was for you to have the best experience, feeling loved and well taken care of by him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. You shook your head to indicate that everything was okay. "Words, baby, I need you to use your pretty mouth," he added, his voice gentle.

"Everything's fine," you assured him, trying not to sound too nervous. "I'm just a little nervous."

"That's normal, mi amor, just relax," he replied. His lips met yours, and then he whispered in your ear, "You tell me if you need anything, preciosa. Are you ready?"

"Yes," you sounded more confident this time, and you could hear a smirk forming on his lips as he buried his face in your neck, and you held onto his strong arms.

Javi's hand traveled between your bodies, and you could feel him positioning at your entrance. The sensation made you gasp. Then he began to push inside slowly. At first, you felt pleasure, followed by a slight burning, as if something inside you were stretching. You couldn't help but wince and feel yourself growing pale. Javier didn't move, and you were grateful for that because you needed a moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a whisper, his voice tense.

"I'm okay," you tried to convince him – and yourself – that everything was fine. But it wasn't; it hurt a bit, it felt invasive. You wanted him to continue, but at the same time, you needed a break. So you decided, "Could you... could you pull out?"

He immediately complied, carefully withdrawing, his forehead creased in concern. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No, it just felt awkward"

"Do you want to try again?" he asked. You couldn't tell because he didn't show any hints, but he was almost praying for you to give him an affirmative answer. He was as hard as a rock, and it was almost painful. However, he wouldn't push you to do something that might hurt you, so he remained patient and reminded himself that he had a whole lifetime to wait for you to be ready.

"I do," you murmured. He nodded, kissed you again, and continued. He left soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. You smell so good, like a mix of fresh flowers and fruits, he thought. It drove him completely insane.

"Relax, bonita. You're doing so fuckin' well," he praised. This time, when you felt him inside, it didn't hurt as much as before. On the contrary, it became a pleasant sensation.

Then you realized that he wasn't fully inside yet. As he continued to push, stretching you further, any discomfort faded away.

"You feel so good," Javier took his time to start moving slowly. His chest touch your nipples, stimulating them, making you increased your soft cries of pure pleasure. That was when all uncertainty disappeared. You began to feel incredible. Moan built up in your chest and escaped your throat. Javier was captivated by your gaze as you saw him directly in his eyes, and the way your lips parted to release cute moans and sighs. Nose, cheeks, and chest turned red, the frown on your brow, and the way you scrunch your nose. He wouldn't last long. You looked so cute and sexy at the same time. You were a completely goddess, so pure and gorgeous.

His face disappeared between your hair and neck, leaving soft kisses and tasting your essence, whispering your name right into your ear amidst his own moans and pleasure-filled grunts.

"¿Te gusta, mi amor?" he wanted to hear you, although your mouth emitted the most sensual sounds he had ever heard.

"Si...," you could barely speak; the bliss was too intense, rendering you almost speechless. He was fucking you completely dumb. "Si, Javi, así me gusta."

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned. He rose to his knees again, his hands firmly gripping your hips to raise them and thrust harder. He was captivated by the way your beautiful breasts bounced, your face lost in pleasure, goosebumps covering your body. The morning sun illuminated your skin and hair.

He knew he wouldn't last, but he needed to make you cum again. Using his thumb, he began tracing circles on your swollen clit, sending you into an intense spiral of raw pleasure. Your back arched of its own accord, and your hand clutched his wrist just to have something to hold onto.

"¡No pares, Javi!" you whimper, so ecstasy-filled, begging him to keep fucking you like that. "Oh, you feel so good, Javi. I... I'm..."

"Cum for me, baby," he encouraged, "I wanna see you fucking cumming on my cock."

And then another wave of pure chaos consumed you. You threw your head back against the pillow, digging your nails into the muscles of his beautiful, strong arms. You felt your world crumbling beside you, and imploring again.

Javier had never cum as hard as he did the very moment he felt your pussy clenching around his cock. His balls throbbed as he cum inside of you. He was so deep on you, filling the condom with his thick, warm load and he couldn't help but imagine your pussy filled with his cum. Carrying his baby...

A couple of seconds passed until you both came down from the clouds. Javi pull out before went completely soft. He reach again for his night table and looked for a box of Kleenex and started cleaning the mess he made. And then he cleaned you, so gentle and caring. Then, he lay next to you, pulling your naked and warm body to his, kissing the top of your head.

"How do you feel, bonita?" he wanted to know. With one hand he traced soft circles on your arm, and with the other he massaged your head, making you feel sleepy.

"Amazing," you mumbled.

"Sleep, baby, you sound tired," he spoke in a soothing tone.

"But I've plan an entire birthday for you..." you tried to say, but your body felt so relaxed and exhausted.

"We have an entire life to do whatever you want, mi vida hermosa," he placed a soft kiss on your forehead and thighed his embrace around your body. "Now sleep, baby."

"Happy birthday, Javi," those were your last word before fell asleep on his arms, bodies tangled and hearts still racing.

Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man, but he wanted you to be his for as long as he may live.

NEXT CHAPTER

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yeahspider · 8 months

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BRAINSTORM 🫀

Ve’s note . bang chan drabble . he’s rich hot and mysterious . stripper x ceo (?) au . gn reader (i tried) . alcohol mention . mdni but no actual smut (pt . 2 maybe ? 🫣 if requested ) kinda proofread . enjoy this little thought . <3

part 2

“y/n need you in the private suite asap” your boss said as you fixed your makeup in the mirror . mascara wand hard at work as you put the finishing touches on your look . it was your last dance of the night and you were ready to be off already .

“this client isn’t like our regulars . he’s well known and well paid . you do a good job and you’ll be set for the rest of the year .” your boss informed as he gave you a final check over . he offered you a shot for confidence . not that you needed it . you were a professional at this point . you’ve been dancing on and off for two years . you know all the ins and outs , the do’s and dont’s. rich guys and big clients don’t make you shake like a leaf anymore . but you take the shot anyway to please him . a little liquor never hurt .

you made your way over to the suite , nodding at the bouncer as you entered . the lights were off on the main floor so you couldn’t see the client . not that it mattered . knowing what he looked like wouldn’t affect your performance . he was just a client like everyone else . someone who pays women like you to dance and twirl on a pole .

stepping up on the stage you grabbed on to the pole and waited for the music to queue so your performance could start . once the song came on you went into that action . not having a set routine in mind you just did whatever felt right . the liquid fire in your veins adding a fluidity to your movement . you’ve never felt more powerful , more hypnotizing .

as the bridge to the song came on you stopped off the stage and made your way to where the client is supposed to be . never stumbling in the dark you reach out and out your hands on the arm of the chair . usually you tried to avoid eye contact with the clients , just for your person comfort but with the energy this man was emitting off you just had to look . as you raised your head to make eye contact with him you held back a gasp at his face . this was by far the most handsome man you’ve ever seen . catching you off guard you forgot you were supposed to be dancing still . the man in question raised a brow at you as a smile graced his lips , leaving you breathless .

“don’t you have a routine to finish ?” he question . knocking you out of your stupor . recovering as quickly as you could you picked up where you left off . winding your body around his in time to the music . you hear him take in a breath as you made your way onto his lap . his hand naturally coming up to place a grip on your waist .

“uh uh no touching allowed mr ? ….” you wanted - no needed to know who this man was . you took his hands and placed them back on the chair as you continued your dance . watching the smile grow bigger on his face as you did so .

“chris . you can call me chris .” he said as he obeyed your rules . handsome rich and respectful . he gained a point in your book for that . you liked a man that could listen .

“well chris sit back and enjoy the show . let me take care of you .” you whispered in his ear as ground softly in his lap . earning a moan out of him . you let your hands travel to his chest . when he didn’t make a move to stop him you let your hands roam . feeling up his defined abdomen as you doubt off the urge to smash your lips on to his . that would be unprofessional of you . you watched his face , liking the reactions he was giving you , how vulnerable he looked under you was a power trip that you didn’t want to end . your hands moved up to his neck which you gave a gentle squeeze . earning a delicious groan from the man .

as the song ended you placed a single kiss to the mole right under his ear and slid off his lap . before you could completely unlatch yourself he grabber your wrist .

“wait don’t go just yet . stay longer i’ll pay . i need you .” he said . desperation leaking from his tone . he looked so worked up from one little dance . you had him completely under your spell and you loved it . you were definitely in for a long night .

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #yeahspider #bang chan imagines #skz bang chan #bang chan series #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan drabbles #bang chan x you

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baileypie-writes · 6 months

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i need a male reader with veneer asap i dont care what happends but im desperate atp🛐🛐🙏🙏

A/N ~ Sure! I hope you enjoy like the story I picked out!

~I’ll Take Care of You!~

(Part 2 here!)

Veneer x Male!Sick!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Reader: Male

Relationship: Romantic

Synopsis: You’re sick, and Veneer insists on taking care of you.

Warnings: Reader having a cold, Veneer being a bit protective, cringe

You felt yourself being pulled out of your dreamless sleep by your ringtone. Rolling over with a groan and a dry cough, you checked your phone to see who was calling you: Veneer. Of course.

You answered his call. “Hey, Veneer.” Your voice was raspy.

“Hey babe. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah.” You coughed again.

“Woah, you feeling okay?” Veneer asked, concern in his voice. As you were now fully wake, you came to the realization that, no, you in fact were not feeling okay. Your throat was really sore.

“No, not really. I got a sore throat.” Before you could say anything else, a dramatic gasp came from your phone.

“Oh no, are you sick? I’m coming over!” His words came out very fast, making his concern more obvious.

“That’s okay Veneer, I can take care of myself.” You tried to calm him down. While you loved your boyfriend, you didn’t want do deal with him hovering over you all day. You just wanted to sleep. But your attempt was proven to be a failure, because you could hear him zipping up his jacket, and grabbing his car keys.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon!” Said Veneer, clearly not hearing what you said. “Love you, bye!” He hung up. You flopped onto your back and let out a long sigh.

“Well, at least I can stay in bed all day.”

~~~~

About ten minutes later, you heard a car pull into your driveway. You knew who it was, and knew he had a key to your house, so you didn’t bother getting up. You heard the door unlock and open, followed by Veneer calling your name.

“I’m in here!” You called hoarsely. You heard quick footsteps approaching your room, then your bedroom door swung open.

“Hey! How you doing?” Veneer asked, clearly still worried. He walked towards you bed. You shimmied out your covers to sit up.

“Not any better than I was ten minutes ago.”

Veneer gave you a sad look, then put his hand to your forehead. “Yikes, you’re pretty warm. Do you have a thermometer?”

“I’m pretty sure I do. It should be in the cabinet to the right of the stove.” Veneer nodded, then zipped out of the room. You heard some digging around in the kitchen, then the sound of the cabinet closing. Your boyfriend came back a few seconds later, thermometer in hand. He held it in front of your face, so you put it under your tongue.

The two of you sat in awkward silence for about twenty seconds. Then the thermometer let out a beep, signaling that it was done taking your temperature. You took it out of your mouth, and looked at the tiny screen.

“Damn, 100.2 degrees.”

“Oh no, that’s high! I’m so sorry! Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can make you something-” There he went again. Nervous rambling.

“I would really appreciate it if you got me some medicine and some soup.”

“You got it! Just sit back, and let your amazing boyfriend, Veneer, take care of you!” Once again, he ran to the kitchen. You sighed, and layed back down. Before you could fully fall back asleep though, a question popped up in your brain.

“Does Veneer even know how to cook?”

The question worried you for a second, but you decided that you were too tired to care. You just let yourself fall back asleep, fully trusting Veneer to take care of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #trolls 3 veneer #veneer #veneer x reader

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thegayspencerreidstan · 1 year

Note

hii!! could you write sub!Spencer x Dom!Male reader smut with Spencer from season 2 being a clueless virgin and being really excited (horny) but also nervous about getting with the reader, meanwhile the reader is experienced and tries to take it slow with him but Spencer is just so needy and desperate it ends up with reader fucking his brains out. (idk how to word it but he just makes Spencer an absolute wreck) and he loves it.

sorry if its too specific but i had an idea and i can't write for shit, plus i absolutely adore your writing <33

Meorrrereewrrr,,,,,rrrr,rrararsrarrrrr,,,,,GG,grrrdrarararar yes....I love this SO MUCH

Warnings: Smut with no plot,,, because I just wanna get to the spice ASAP

Virgin Bottom!Spencer X Male reader

You were amazed at the sight in front of you, Your pretty, Nerdy boyfriend was laying in bed, an aching bulge visible in his pants, his tie was loose and his hair was all over the place, it was amazing and god it made you hard...

Spencer looked at you, his eyes seeming... desperate, craving...you, you walked over to him, climbing onto the bed and gently grabbing his hips, you knew he was a Virgin, so of course you wanted to go slow, not wanting to hurt him or make him uncomfortable, you slid your hand down to his crotch, palming his aching bulge, he mewled and clutched your shoulders, clearly sensitive "hm...so sensitive~" you said, teasing him, he smiled and his cheeks turned redder than what they already were "i-i...I wanted to...I wanted you to touch me...so, I rarely-...u-um..." Spencer tried to say, but you knew what he meant, and that boosted your ego enough as is "mm...you wanted to save all this for me~..." You chuckled.

You stopped palming him, clearly enjoying seeing him so desperate and ragged, he was always somewhat calm and collected, so seeing him like this...was heavenly, you took off your shirt slowly, making Spencer squirm in excitement, once your shirt was off, you grabbed Spencers tie, pulling him close and kissing him, as you both kissed, you grabbed him and slid him onto your lap, basically making Spencer straddle your lap, both your erections were pressed together, making you both groan nerdily, but you of course wanted to be slow since Spencer hadn't had sex yet...but at the same time, it all felt heavenly and you wanted more, Spencer whined softly and muttered "I-i want y-you so fucking bad!..." The sheer desperation in his voice almost made you snap.

But of course, you held your composure and said back "we'll go slow....I don't wanna hurt you baby...okay?" But that clearly upset Spencer since he then shook his head and quietly sobbed out "n-no please!...i-i want you....wreck me..make me go dumb, I don't care!..i-i want you...I need you-" and almost immediately, you passionately kissed Spencer as you stripped both of you, gently pumping his cock as you both kissed, making Spencer moan into the kiss, after a bit, you slid a few fingers into him, prepping him for your cock, he shook and moaned, your fingers prodding his prostate, causing tears to roll down his cheeks from the pleasure.

You almost cummed right then, it was amazing seeing him like this, he was always so composed, so seeing him so needy was something completely new...but amazing, you felt him grip your shoulder before saying "s-stop...i-im gonna c-cum!" You chuckled slightly and pulled out your fingers, letting him calm down a bit before you pumped your cock for a bit and gently slid into Spencer, you could tell it hurt a little, making you still, you didn't want to move until he said he was ready, so you patiently waited, after a few minutes, he started rocking his hips while moaning, and that told you that he was ready, so you placed one hand on his waist, and the other on his thigh as you started thrusted, making the both of you moan, it felt amazing, and the fact that Spencer was a Virgin, it made you happy knowing it was you that got to do this to him first.

You knew he'd cum quickly, but you didn't mind, he whined softly as cum spilled out his cock and onto his chest, and you smiled at him, thrusting a few more times before cumming, you had made sure to keep a box of tissues nearby for when you were done, so you carefully grabbed the tissues and cleaned the both of you up, and not long after, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, Spencer definitely needed to rest after all that.

Sorry I've been gone so long...I haven't been able to find the motivation to make anything recently, so I hope you all understand,,,and I hope you enjoy this fic <3

#male reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid smut

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spider-stark · 9 months

Text

A DARK AGE pt.2

previous part -

series summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, Gwen Stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

chapter summary - desperate to get Harry Osborn out of your head, you find yourself following a lead that sends you straight to Peter Parker.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, series will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. please read at your own risk.

word count - 12.8k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts // newspaper headline //

YOU HAD been worried that the ice-cold stare of Harry Osborn would remain stuck in your brain for the entire cab ride back to New York City.

Fortunately, by the time you’d made it to Yonkers, about thirty minutes out from Ravencroft’s facility, the distressing imagery in your head faded as your ears were suddenly blasted with a series of rushed ding-s from your cell phone.

You welcomed the noisy distraction, even if it only further agitated the throbbing headache you felt coming on.

All the messages were from Betty Brant and likely could’ve been summed up in one long message rather than a dozen short ones. And, for the most part, all the texts did were confirm your fears: her search for Peter’s whereabouts had been a fruitless effort.

Well, almost fruitless.

You couldn’t quite give Brant credit for the one lead she’d received given the fact that it had essentially just fallen in her lap, but you still typed back a simple—good job, nonetheless.

While you were off pointlessly torturing yourself behind Ravencroft’s iron gates, a woman had called the Bugle and had the misfortune of being answered by Jameson himself.

According to Brant, the lady asked for you by name, and when Jameson told her you were busy and she’d need to call back later, she turned frantic. He said she sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, begging him to get a message to you ASAP.

Please tell her to stop by my house! Tomorrow afternoon! She knows the address already, I promise! Tell her it’s May Parker, okay? M-A-Y P-A-R-K-E-R!

Of course Jameson knew who the crackpot (his words) was once she said her last name, having spoken to her once or twice during Peter’s limited time at the Bugle.

What he hadn’t told Brant was that it took everything in him to bite his tongue, to not tell the woman every horrible opinion he held in regard to her nephew. Jameson knew that it would do no good. He also knew that it wasn’t her fault that Peter hadn’t shown up to the hospital that night.

Still, he couldn’t help but find himself seething with rage, speaking through gritted teeth until he could finally hang up the phone. He had absolutely no interest in finding Peter Parker, even if he was the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man.

Good riddance had become his motto when it came to both Peter and Harry. You were one of the few things in this world that mattered more to Jameson than a good lead, which was exactly the reason why he had no interest in Peter’s whereabouts when he first went awol and left the Bugle without notice—he didn’t care. Even if Peter had come back to work, he would’ve just been fired anyway. Jameson had no interest in keeping him around, regardless of the quality of his work.

But despite his hatred for the boy, he knew you were looking for him. While Jameson was unaware of Peter’s secret identity, he knew for certain that Peter had connections to Spider-Man, given that it was the whole reason he had employed him in the first place. You figured there was likely no one in this world that Jameson wanted to keep you from more than Spider-Man. But in what was surely not an easy choice to make, he begrudgingly passed the message from May along to Brant, messily scrawled onto a Doughnuttery napkin that had been stained with chocolate frosting.

He refused to withhold a lead from you.

Of course, when first deciding to track Peter down, you had considered going to his aunt, but she was always meant to be a last-ditch choice. After all, rumor had it that Peter had abandoned her too, moving out shortly after Gwen’s death. You didn’t see a need to add to her grief unless it felt necessary, yet it seemed she wanted you to.

A part of you hoped that the mystery surrounding why May was so adamant about speaking to you would serve as a distraction for the night. You didn’t want to think any more about Ravencroft, and certainly not about the boy they kept locked behind those iron gates.

Deep down, though, you knew that wasn’t possible. Try as you might, there was nothing in this world capable of distracting you from the thoughts of Harry Osborn.

He was a plague, one that you had been fighting off ever since that night; and seeing him in person seemed to have only granted him the opportunity to further sink his claws into you.

You often found yourself reliving the moment you first saw him—the Green Goblin. A monster composed of distended veins and spindly bones, appearing so completely and utterly inhuman—so unlike the boy you knew that you didn’t even recognize him at first. At first, there had just been fear, a sense of pure unbridled terror.

But then, once he spoke, you knew. You knew what he had done, recognized him in spite of the monster the serum had transformed him into. Bile instantly stung at your throat, threatening to spill past your lips and onto the asphalt beneath your feet. You couldn’t stop thinking of how much it had burned, swallowing it down over and over again, as many times as it took before your body finally stopped trying.

You fought so hard against that visceral reaction, the sensible part of you that had seen this new form he’d taken on and screamed at you to run. You wouldn’t let yourself do that. You couldn’t bear the thought of turning your back on your friend, even after seeing what he’d turned himself into.

But then he grabbed Gwen and once she was in his arms you realized that he wasn’t the same anymore. Then once he’d finally let her go, once you’d watched her take her very last breath, you swore you’d always hate him. Harry Osborn was not your friend; it was a simple fact that you still stood behind.

But trauma was a peculiar thing.

Usually when Harry haunted your thoughts, the Green Goblin was always the focal point. Flashes of Gwen’s lifeless body dangling from Spider-Man's web, the sounds of squelching flesh and cracking bones. You would remember the metallic taste that filled your mouth as you looked over at him that last time, just before everything went black.

Tonight, though, you’d found yourself thinking not of the Goblin, but of your friend. The friend that had once been good as dead to you. Memories that had once been shoved aside in favor of sinking into the tragedy you’d experienced, only to be brought back to light after seeing his face today.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your head pounding as thoughts of posh charity events, late-night talks, and inside jokes fought to keep you awake. It wasn’t until the next day when you’d finally arrived at Aunt May’s house that you received a much-needed break from him.

The thick plastic covering on the couch crinkled loudly beneath your weight as you sat down. You used every ounce of effort in your body to try and appear calm as she moved past the coffee table, sitting across from you in a sage green armchair.

It was new.

“I’m so glad you came, y/n.” May offered you her sweetest smile, the gesture accentuating the thin lines around her eyes. She looked older somehow, even though it hadn’t even been a year since you last saw her. “I was worried that bitter man at the newspaper wouldn’t tell you I called.”

You barely stifled your laughter, then immediately wondered if she could tell that even that sliver of emotion was fake. It was second nature to put on an act, especially when it came to work matters. To appear excessively friendly, using it as a tool to quickly build some sort of rapport with someone, hoping it would get them to spill whatever information they might have.

It didn't seem necessary to put up an act around May, but you found it difficult to turn it off.

“Jameson can be a little… testy, at times.”

She immediately snorted at your words, believing them to be a drastic understatement.

“But I’ve gotta say,” you continued, trying to steer the conversation, “I was a bit surprised when he said you called.”

Guilt settled over her soft features, dusty pink lips settling into a thin line as she stared down at her lap, watching the steam rise from her cup. “I know. I meant to call sooner, more often, but I just...” she sucked in a breath, lifting the cup to the edge of her lips, “I didn’t want to make a big fuss of things.”

She was drinking chamomile tea. You knew this because you were offered some as soon as she opened the front door, cheerfully telling you that she’d just boiled a fresh pot of water. While you didn’t consider yourself an expert on May Parker, you couldn’t help but make note of the fact that you’d never seen her enjoy herbal drinks before.

You leaned forward a touch, your elbows resting just above your knees as you did so. “What would you make a fuss over?”

This meeting was different than Ravencroft.

At Ravencroft you were a sheep grazing among lions. Showing weakness would gain you nothing, save for failure and potential death. But in a place like Aunt May’s home, the roles immediately reversed.

Here, you were the lion. And, to gain the trust of sheep, you needed to come off as if you were entirely transparent. Wear your heart on your sleeve, bare every emotion you had, and express as much concern as possible, fooling them into believing that you were truly on their side.

But this time was different, you tried to remind yourself, working diligently to ensure your emotions didn’t come off as fake or exaggerated. You could be genuine. You really were on her side, right?

“Peter’s been...” She hesitated as her wedding ring clinked against the porcelain cup in her hands as she nervously tapped her fingers. She never took it off, even after Ben died. “different.”

Your chest tightened, elbows digging further into your thighs. “What do you mean?”

“He changed after what happened to Gwendolyne.” she began to explain, though she remained hesitant. “It started off small. Quitting the newspaper, refusing to finish his college applications. And maybe that’s when I should’ve stepped in, tried to snap him out of it or something. But after what he’d gone through... what he had lost...”

There was a knowing look in her eyes, a sense of understanding. It was then that it fully clicked for you, realizing that May had been through something similar to what Peter went through. She knew what it was like to have your entire world change in the blink of an eye. “I just hoped that with time it would pass.”

“And it didn’t, did it?” You guessed, painfully aware of the answer.

If it had changed, if he had gotten better, then you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

May shook her head. “No.” She uttered, her hooded gaze still avoiding yours, remaining fixed on her cup. “It got worse.”

There was something in the way she spoke, the solemn tone you’d never heard her take before, that sent chills running down your spine.

“How so?”

"Little ways, at first.” Her voice broke, clearing her throat before taking another sip of tea. “He started acting out. Getting mean. Rageful.”

Your heart ached for the woman, fighting the urge to reach out and hug her as you watched her hazel eyes turn glossy.

“He was almost never home anymore, and then one day he just... didn’t come back.”

She wiped away the unshed tears, lightly shaking her head and muttering an apology.

“Where is he?” You asked her, instinctively looking towards the old staircase that led to his bedroom.

Years had been wasted in there, sitting cross-legged on his worn-out rug and exchanging complaints about Flash Thompson or Miss. Ritter. On good days, the two of you would build Lego sets and eat your fill of junk food. On bad days you’d both tuck yourselves away in his bed, hidden underneath a stack of blankets as old movies played from his laptop.

It had been a while since you’d let yourself think of those memories, and you hadn’t quite expected it to hurt as much as it did to acknowledge that those days were gone.

“Columbia.” She spoke.

Your eyes widened as your head cocked to the side. “University?”

Warmth spread across your cheeks as embarrassment settled in, feeling a bit silly for speaking the thought aloud. Of course she had meant Columbia University. Still, it shocked you a little when she nodded, confirming your thoughts. Given the way she spoke of Peter’s decline, you hadn’t expected him to be attending college.

“So, you still talk to him?” You quickly followed up with another question, this one less painstakingly dumb than the last.

May scoffed, the loose hair framing her face swaying about as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I’d call it talking. But he checks in on occasion, just often enough to keep me from having a heart attack.”

You glanced down at her cup of tea, willing to reason that maybe Peter had been the reason for her sudden interest in herbal drinks. After all, they were known to reduce stress, and Peter seemed to be causing a great deal of it.

There was another sound of disapproval, a click of her tongue as her voice went low again. “You raise a boy for over ten years,” she started, the smallest spark of anger burning within her, “only to end up getting a postcard in the mail every month.”

“A postcard?” You wondered aloud, likely looking as puzzled as you felt. “You don’t have his phone number?”

She snorted. “I don’t know if he even has a phone anymore.”

For a moment neither of you spoke, and you found yourself studying her features, looking for any sign that she might be lying. You knew that there was no point in it, that May had no reason to lie to you. There would be nothing for her to gain, plus she had reached out to you for help. Still, it was second nature for you to remain apprehensive.

It was hard to believe that Peter had all but completely cut ties with his aunt. May had raised him, practically given her entire life just to ensure that he had everything he could ever need, only to up and abandon her out of the blue—just as he had done to you.

Nothing about it made any sense to you, and the thought alone was enough to fill you with not only rage, but also fear. Was Peter that far gone?

You didn’t want to think about that right now, instead focusing on the sharp pain sneaking up your left side from sitting hunched over for so long. Forcibly relaxing your muscles, you leaned back against the couch cushions, listening to the way the plastic squelched as you shifted.

“Is that why you called?” You finally asked, pressing a hand to your ribs and rubbing over the sore area. “To see if I could help Peter?”

May took another long and thoughtful sip of her tea. Then, once she was finished, she leaned forwards and placed it on the coffee table that stood between you both. “No.” She stated firmly, only for her eyes to narrow and then go back on the declaration, “Not entirely, at least.”

You frowned at her, confused.

“I wanted to call because I realized that you needed someone, too.” You froze instantly, suddenly feeling as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. “I’ve been so caught up with Peter and trying to find a way to help him that I nearly forgot he wasn’t the only one who lost someone.”

May glanced up for perhaps the first time in this whole conversation. You couldn’t help but feel as if the roles had changed, sinking further into the cushion behind you. She took note of everything, your stiff posture, the subtle bouncing of your leg, the timid look in your eye. You had become the sheep, being carefully discerned by the lion.

“I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was—still am, for your loss, y/n. You didn’t just lose Gwen that night, you lost all three of them.”

Her heedful words landed the final blow, feeling like a piercing knife against your throat.

Suck it up, you kept repeating to yourself, change the subject.

Scrambling to compose yourself, nearly choking on your own tongue, you tried to ignore the look of concern she gave you. You didn’t need sympathy. “I’m managing.” You told her roughly, only able to conjure a barely believable smile. “It could be worse.”

“Sure,” May tentatively agreed, “but it could also be better.”

You decided it was best to not acknowledge her words.

“You said not entirely.” You reminded her, working hard to ensure that your voice didn’t shake. You weren’t sure why it was shaking in the first place, torn between naming anxiety or anger as the culprit. “When I asked if you wanted me to help Peter, that’s what you said. What makes you think I can help him?”

May’s face screwed up, staring at you as if it were obvious. “Because no one else can. The three of you—you, Harry, and Gwen—were the only ones that could ever get through to him.” She paused, considering her next words. “And you’re the only one left.”

There was a weight that settled on your shoulders, shoving you further into the couch. You didn’t like the way that it sounded, for more reasons than one. There was too much responsibility that came with it.

“Columbia’s campus is big.” You told her, void of any emotion. “Do you know where he’s staying? Anything that might help me find him?”

This time it was May’s turn to sink back into her seat, shoulders slouching forward as she turned apologetic. “I know he’s living on campus, but I don’t know which building. Whenever he writes he always keeps the details to a minimum.”

As much as you appreciated any information she offered, it wouldn’t help you much. You had been right in your earlier statement; Columbia was a big school with at least two dozen residence halls. Finding Peter amongst those students was comparable to finding a needle in a haystack.

You knew that you could enlist Betty Brant’s help, but even then, it could take days before one of you happened to find him.

Finally, a bit exasperated, you dared to ask. “Anything else?”

May smiled, weary and filled with regret. “Just be careful, y/n. I’m not sure what Peter had gotten himself into, but I’ve seen the news.” Her hands trembled as she spoke. “I know what they think he did. What Spider-Man might have done.”

She spoke the vigilante’s name like a forbidden word, as if it were one she had sworn she’d never speak aloud, and your eyes grew wide as you just barely breathed out, “You know?”

May’s smile remained despite the somber gleam in her eyes as she told you simply, “No one washes the flag.”

You found the students at Columbia University nauseating.

Most of them were pretentious assholes that stunk of cigarette smoke, not because they actually smoked them, but instead because letting them lazily hang from their fingers matched their desired aesthetic.

They were all desperate to give off the same vibe as a fifteen-year-olds dark academia Pinterest board, leaning against a wall with a copy of Allan Ginsberg’s Howl tucked beneath their arm. You wondered if any of them had ever read it, snorting to yourself when you thought of how they’d likely dogeared a few pages to make the book look worn.

“This place is huge.” Betty Brant marveled from beside you, spinning in a circle as she took in its vastness. When she was done making herself dizzy, she looked at you. “This is gonna be impossible.”

You smiled at her inept observation, challenging her. “Why?”

Her brows snapped together, a single hand incredulously waving around the two of you. “Have you looked around?” She quipped. “There are literally thousands of people here! If we find him today, then it’ll just be dumb luck.”

You didn’t judge her for her innate pessimism. After all, you felt just as overwhelmed as Betty Brant did currently when sitting on Aunt May’s couch, listening as she told you that she had essentially nothing to offer in terms of helping to find Peter. It was easy to assume the worst in a field where you’re so often dealt the shittiest of hands—but Jameson and the other seasoned reporters at the Bugle had taught you well. There was always a way to turn things around.

“Know your target, Brant.” You lightly chastised, a teasing smile that Brant felt looked out of place on you. While she still didn’t know you well, she’d seen you around the office a lot, and she struggled to remember a time when you didn’t have a permanent grimace etched on your face.

Your fingers delved into your bag and reached for a few papers that you’d printed off at the Bugle, just moments before you’d snagged Brant up by her arm without warning and forced her to come with you to Columbia University. You held one of the papers out to her, which she swiftly took and began reading.

"There are only two programs offered at Columbia that Peter would care about: photography or biochemistry.” You explained to her. “I went on their website and got an idea of a mock schedule for both and copied down the names of the buildings they’re in. It’s still not a sure shot-”

“But it gives us somewhere to start.” Brant finished your sentence, her big eyes flickering back up to yours as she lowered the page you’d given her.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“So, we’re splitting up?”

She was nervous about that idea, clear by the way she started to tug at the edge of her royal blue cardigan. If it were someone other than Brant you might be concerned, but Brant always came off a little antsy, making it easy to brush it off; although it did leave you wondering why the girl stayed so high strung. One day you’d ask her about it, you thought, but not right now.

"It’s better that way. We'll cover more ground.” You told her, your pitiless statement doing little to quell her nerves as she gave another sharp tug to her garment, anxiously looking around at the swarm of students passing around you both.

You did your best to look sympathetic, “Just call me if you need me, alright?” Brant stared back at you, resembling a small child whose mother was dropping them off on their first day of school. It was pitiful, and you nearly groaned as you forced yourself to say, “If you call, I’ll answer. Promise.”

Brant hesitated for a second before nodding, still uneasy but far more willing now to leave your side. As you turned away from her you reminded yourself to never have children, desperately hoping and praying to any God who might listen that Brant would not call you.

As you started to meld into the crowd, falling into step with a group of girls around your age, the thoughts of Brant and her child-like anxiety were replaced with something far more juvenile. You had just barely glanced at the girls walking next to you, at first only giving them a quick glance. Soon, though, as you continued towards your destination, you found yourself fixating on them.

They smelled like cloves and bergamot, probably the scent of some over-priced perfume you’d never even dream of taking off the shelf and their clothes were nicer than anything hanging up in your closet. One had a Tiffany’s necklace dangling around her throat like a collar and another had pin straight platinum hair. In short, they looked expensive. But, at the same time, they looked incredibly beautiful.

It made you hyper aware of yourself, of how different you looked in comparison. You weren’t wearing any nice jewelry, and your hair was messily tied back, making you feel as if you were the opposite of both the girls that had caught your attention. Realizing this, you looked around at the other girls surrounding you, noticing that all of them looked that way. Posh, put-together, and completely and utterly gorgeous.

A strange feeling crept up your spine, one you hadn’t felt since you were in high school. Self-loathing.

There was a time when you prioritized your appearance, or at least more than you do now. You could still remember what it was like to stroll into an Oscorp charity event, dozens of eyes glued to you. Men would watch with bated breath as you passed them, silently dreaming of a day where you’d actually notice them.

That would never happen, of course.

You always went to those events with either Harry or Peter, and they often left you with little reason to acknowledge anyone else in attendance. Even so, you remembered the power you held. Remembered what it was like to feel desired by someone, even if it wasn’t by who you wanted.

After the accident, though, you’d stopped caring about how you looked. It felt so trivial to put any more effort than necessary into your looks, often throwing on the same outfit several days in a row to save time in the mornings. But in this moment, you found yourself feeling differently, insecurity slipping into your mind. Had you let yourself go? Surely not...

It didn’t matter! You suddenly shouted at yourself, fists balling up at your sides as you tried to silence the thoughts that were fueled by foolish insecurity. Despite believing every word of the statement, it didn’t help to make you feel any less self-conscious.

Passing by the mirrored windows of the mess hall, you found yourself slowing down, falling behind the group of girls as you hesitantly turned to catch a glimpse of yourself. You cursed yourself for looking, hating that you even cared about this sort of thing right now. But once you looked into the reflection you froze, realizing that it wasn’t yourself that you saw in the reflection. It was Gwen.

“It’s not that bad!” She would lie to you, her voice jumping several octaves as she did. A hand would reach out, sage green fingernails combing through the frizzy mess that framed your face, trying to flatten it. “It just needs a little...” her head cocked to the side, teeth exposed as she sucked in a breath, “work.”

Gwen was always a terrible liar. She wasn’t like you; she never had been. She was completely incapable of hiding her hand, always living with her cards exposed for the world to see—for them to take advantage of. It was what you’d always admired most about her, her willingness to trust in everyone, to see the good in anyone. It was also what you despised the most about her, and you tried not to dwell on the complexity of that.

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter!” Gwen’s shoulders lifted exponentially, a mess of blonde curls violently swaying as she shook her head about. “You still look hotter than half the girls here, alright?” She grinned at you, the same sweet smile that you missed more than anything. “I promise!”

And she meant it every word of it, but rather than offering you any comfort, the words just filled you with envy. You envied Gwen far more than you liked to admit. You wanted to be like her, even now, to be able to see the good in every situation, to be even half as lovely as she was.

You tried to swallow your guilt, though it only made your stomach hurt. You had promised yourself that you were done envying Gwen.

But you weren’t done missing her.

Still entranced by her doe eyed stare, you felt your phone begin to buzz in your pocket, distracting you enough that you turned your gaze to your bag, instinctively going to dig for the device. By the time you thought to look back up, the vision of her was gone and you were looking at only a reflection of yourself.

You wasted no time in looking away.

When you sobered up enough to read the caller ID, you groaned loud enough to turn a few heads of students passing by. Now, in an interesting turn of events, you wished that Brant was the one calling you, staring down at Director Samson’s name flashing across the screen. You silenced it.

Not today. You started walking again, effectively trading your thoughts of Gwen for ones of Ravencroft and Harry Osborn. Or ever again.

Dodge Hall was the first stop on your list.

You were willing to bet that of the two programs you listed to Brant that Peter likely picked photography, which was precisely why you had delegated the biochemistry labs to Brant.

There was a chance that you were wrong and that he’d decided to major in biochemistry, maybe in some desperate attempt to be like the father he swore he hated, but you held out hope anyway. You wanted to believe that even in whatever odd stage of life Peter was in he was working to forge his own path, rather than following the one he’d once considered his birthright.

Stopping in front of the building that housed most of the University’s photography classes, you grimaced. It significantly lacked character, offering nothing more than a bunch of lifeless bricks with boring cement pillars on either side. You had yet to see anything about this school that made it seem worth the astronomical tuition students paid to attend.

“I know that look-” a high-pitched voice filled the air, the grating sound intensifying your already sour expression, “Dodge might not have the most intricate architecture on campus, but for what it lacks in appearance it makes up for in its rich and extraordinary history!”

You didn't want to turn around, fully recognizing the chirpy she-devil by diction alone. Still, you forced yourself to do it anyway, realizing that there was no possible escape route. “Mary Jane!” The vile taste of her name in your mouth left you feeling queasy, “what’re you doing here?”

No, seriously, what the fuck was she doing here?

A perfectly manicured hand flew to her overly plump lips, packed full of filler and overlined with a red lip pencil. An exaggerated gasp somehow managed to slip past them. “Oh my gosh!” The copper-haired beauty squealed, sounding as if she had inhaled at least a few liters of helium. You forgot how much you hated her voice. “y/n! I didn’t even recognize you!”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You droned, likely appearing just as displeased as you sounded. It was difficult for you to sound pleasant around Mary Jane.

Mary Jane had always been a thorn in your side. For the most part she was entirely harmless, but her ever-so-perky attitude always left a bad taste in both your mouth and Gwen’s. On top of that, she lacked morals, made clear by the last time you’d seen her.

It was immediately after Gwen’s funeral, and you’d just happened to find Mary Jane and a few other reporters from the Daily Globe swarming the Stacy family, pining for an interview. It was disgusting, and if you’d been in better shape, you swore that you would’ve knocked her square in the face that day.

Mary Jane reached out and touched your forearm, giving it a firm squeeze. “You look so good!”

You didn’t even bother thanking her, instead deciding to brace yourself for what might be coming next. You had known her long enough to know that all her compliments were a double-edged sword, an insult waiting just around the corner.

“After Genna’s funeral you looked so thin and sickly,” her button nose scrunched up as she looked you up and down, “it’s so nice to see you look far more...” a slight tilt of her head, accompanied by a sickeningly sweet smile as she squeezed your arm again, “plump!”

The smile you gave in return was far less pleasurable than hers, bearing a closer resemblance to a snarl. “Gwen.” You pointedly corrected, choosing to ignore her weak attempt at insulting you. “Her name is Gwen.”

She only waved her hand, dismissing your correction. The simple act made your blood boil, teeth grinding together as you fought to stay silent. You didn’t have time to start a fight with her.

“Ugh, silly me! I’m so bad with names!” She pretended to laugh it off, playing it as an innocent slip of the tongue. You could see the malice behind it, though, her emerald eyes glistening with spite. Mary Jane was a journalist, which meant that remembering facts was quite literally her job. Pretending to forget Gwen’s name was just another idle attempt at getting under your skin.

It worked.

“Did you check out the Globe yesterday?” She started right back up, trapping you in another conversation and preventing you from finding an excuse to slip into Dodge Hall and start your search for Peter. “Who am I kidding! Of course you did!” Mary Jane twirled a strand of red hair around her finger, her egotism on full display as she beamed. “Dozens of newsstands sold out within the hour! Amazing, right? To sell out physical copies in this digital age!”

You only hummed in response, aware that she only wanted to hear herself talk. But God, you hated the way she spoke. Her constant need to enunciate every other word, her squeaky voice filled with false sincerity, always searching for validation in every conversation.

”Bushkin agreed that we only sold out because of my story on the front page! He said my talent for writing could be enough to revive print entirely!” Her chest swelled with pride; hands clasped over her heart as nonsense continued to spew from her.

Barney Bushkin was the publisher for the Globe, which made him Mary Jane’s boss. He also had a reputation for being a sick old pervert with an affinity for girls that were far too young for him. His opinion meant nothing to you since you knew that he would say absolutely anything if he thought it would increase his odds of getting a quick look up one of Mary Jane’s too-short skirts.

”I’m not surprised you sold so many copies,” you egged her on, taking immense pleasure in the way her smug smile grew at what she mistook for praise, “fear mongering has always been a useful tactic for sales.”

For a moment you could’ve sworn you saw her eyes turn as red as her hair, fiery rage coursing through her veins at your comment. But it was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared.

”Well,” she cleared her throat, smoothing the wrinkles out of her white blouse, “I’d hardly call my article fear mongering. I just presented the facts.”

You couldn’t deny that Mary Jane was a pro at composing herself, remaining collected even when you knew she wanted to explode. Image was important to her, meaning she couldn’t ever afford to let her nice girl act falter.

”You called Spider-Man a murderer.”

You didn’t always share her skillset, willing to let yourself come off as brash and plain-spoken.

”And last I checked there’s an active warrant for his arrest.” Mary Jane retorted sharply, the only sign she was willing to give that you were annoying her. “So, like I said, I presented the facts.”

You sucked in a breath, holding back your argument. You wanted to tell her that her facts were skewed, that she was reporting with only one source and effectively trying to demonize a man who had saved the city countless times. But you didn’t. Fighting with her would be a waste of time, and you had better things to do.

"Yeah, well, I should really get going.” You gave a curt smile, nodding in the direction of Dodge Hall. “Always good to see you, MJ.” You took care to place extra emphasis on the nickname, fully aware of just how much she hated it.

Still, she barely let it get to her, hiding her own scowl as you started to edge towards the building. You noticed the way her left eye twitched, though, showing that she was nearing a breaking point. If you had more time, you’d likely try and push her over the edge.

“Why are you here?” Mary Jane suddenly mimicked the question you had first asked her, the one she had never actually gave an answer to.

You paused, only having made it less than a few feet away from her. “Visiting a friend.”

If all went to plan, that wouldn’t technically be a lie.

“Peter?” She blurted his name out in a way that left you feeling strange. There was a hesitant look on her face, almost as if she were afraid that you’d say yes. You didn’t like it.

“Yeah, actually.” You frowned, watching her face drop at the confirmation. “Why?”

She refused to meet your stare, staring past your shoulder at the entrance of the Hall. “He’s not in there.”

In all the years you’d known Mary Jane, you’d never heard her sound so uncharacteristically dispirited. Her perky persona seemed to vanish in thin air, leaving behind someone that was entirely unfamiliar to you.

It was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Wait, do you know where he is?” You asked.

“Of course I do.” She quickly answered, cutting her eyes at you. “But if you’re the one meeting him then shouldn’t you know where he is?”

Jealousy settled in. Why did she know where Peter was? Mary Jane and Peter had never been particularly close, likely due to the lifelong rivalry that you and Gwen had held with her. The idea of him even interacting with Mary Jane left you feeling unsettled.

“Well, we were supposed to meet here.” You lied, turning a tad defensive as you shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the building. “But it’s been a busy morning. He might’ve forgot.”

You paused, debating whether you wanted to continue. There was a good chance that you didn’t want to hear the answer to the question resting on the tip of your tongue, and yet you made yourself ask it anyway. “Were you just with him?”

Please say no-

“Yes.” Her answer came quickly. “We had plans to get dinner but-um,” she suddenly became extremely focused on her own feet, awkwardly kicking at the sidewalk, “he had to... cancel. Said he was gonna be too busy developing photos all night.”

Her too-perfect face screwed up in an unsightly sort of way. You almost thought that you should feel guilty for accidentally making it seem as if Peter had ditched her for you. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt sickly satisfied, taking pleasure in her sorrow. You reveled in it, finding it easier to focus on that than the idea of why she and Peter were going to get dinner together in the first place.

”Mm, that sucks.” You let out a disinterested hum, taking a page from her book as you continued without waiting for a reply, “Is that what he’s doing now? Developing photos?”

Mary Jane gave a stiff nod.

”Great.”

Despite how painful it had been to sit through what felt like a never-ending conversation with her, Mary Jane had ended up being of vital importance. If Peter was developing images today, then that meant he had to be in the darkrooms. And, thanks to your Google research, you knew exactly where they were—Watson Hall, just a brief walk from where you were now.

You wasted no time with stepping around Mary Jane, having no intention of even wasting a goodbye on her as you started towards your destination. But, as you moved around her body, she reached for you, her thin fingers once again wrapping around your forearm. She squeezed harder than last time, your head snapping in her direction, eyes narrowing in a threatening stare as she held you there.

Surprisingly, she gave you a threatening look of her own.

“Before you go,” you found it eerie the way her voice remained syrupy sweet, a sharp contrast to the menacing expression she wore, “I just wanted to tell you how much I adored that little sympathy piece you wrote for your friend in the looney bin.”

You pulled your arm from her grip, your body going tense at the mention of the article you’d written to try and sway the public during Harry’s trial. Jameson hadn’t allowed it to go to print, reminding you that your judgment was still clouded by grief. He didn’t understand why you were so desperate to keep Harry out of Ryker’s Island, but he had hoped that by letting you at least post the article on the Bugle’s website that it would offer you some sort of closure.

It hadn’t. It was shortly after publishing the piece that you had went straight to Harry’s lawyers, giving them all the information they would need to plead insanity.

Mary Jane stepped closer, ignoring your effort to create distance from her. She was close enough that you could nearly feel the heat radiating off her body. You didn’t like it, but you refused to let yourself back away from her.

“I can’t say that Peter agreed.” Her lips curled into a cynical smirk. “I mean, honestly, after the reaction he had to it I’m shocked that he can even stand to be in the same room as you!” The sound of her laughter infuriated you. “I suppose it’s true what they say about time, yeah? That it heals all wounds—even a knife in the back.”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think.

All you could do was stare at the devilish woman in front of you, seething with a type of hatred that you were certain could eat you alive. Your nails sunk into the heel of your palm, an effort to refrain yourself from using them to claw that nasty complacent look right off her face.

Mary Jane noticed this and decided to take your silence as a sign of her victory.

“It really was great seeing you, y/n.” She gushed, the false tender statement only fueling your anger. As she turned to walk away, she glanced over her shoulder, winking at you. “Don’t be a stranger.”

One day, you swore to yourself with a particularly loud huff, spinning on your heel and stomping in the direction of the darkrooms, you would kick Mary Jane’s ass.

When you posted the article—the one you hoped would sway the public’s opinion of Harry—you knew Peter would see it. More than that, you knew that he would be adamantly against it.

Unlike you, Harry hadn’t given Peter a reason to care whether he lived or died.

If anything, he had done nothing but give Peter motive to kill Harry himself. You hated that thought. While you didn’t believe that Peter had murdered Sytsevich, you worried that if given the chance he would have killed Harry that night. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have been capable of following through with it, though. Just as you weren’t capable of sitting idly by as Harry was sentenced to Ryker’s Island, knowing that he would be as good as dead in there.

Maybe you’d been stupid not to consider that the article was one of the reasons why Peter had never bothered to reach out to you, even once things had settled down. Maybe it was your own fault that he’d abandoned you, that the article had been the final nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Your stomach ached, your mind still reeling as you shoved open the large doors of Watson Hall. A rush of frigid air washed over you, goosebumps erupting against your skin.

Was it possible that Peter hated you as much as he hated Harry?

No. It couldn’t be. What Harry had done was beyond abominable, something that could never be forgiven. You hadn’t done anything nearly as bad as him.

Yet, on the other hand… is the one who comes to a monster's defense just as bad as the monster? You weren’t sure of the answer to that question, though you started to rationalize it to yourself anyway—you weren’t defending him, you just didn’t want to watch him die if there was something you could do to stop it!

But why not? Gwen wasn’t a monster, yet you still watched her die, standing on the sidelines and doing nothing to try and stop it.

There was nothing I could’ve done! Your mind screamed in defense of itself as you approached the staircase leading to the second floor, roughly gripping the rail as you started climbing up.

Why had Peter talked to Mary Jane about the article in the first place? That question was easier to think about than the others, infuriating but still less emotionally taxing, so you let yourself fixate on it. As far as you knew, Peter hadn’t liked Mary Jane any more than you and Gwen did, always keeping his distance from the she-devil.

When did that change?

At the top of the stairs, nestled in a corner of the left, there was a single door with a large black sign hanging off of it. The words DARKROOM IN USE were written in bold letters. You stared at it for a moment, your mind finally going blank as you did.

Peter was behind that door—your best friend, Peter.

Your palms started to sweat as memories started flooding back. Instantly, you bit your cheek, trying to ignore them. Now wasn’t the time for a trip down memory lane, especially not when you could still recall the bloody way that road ends.

A knock echoed through the somewhat barren Hall as your first collided with the door, your nerves growing with every passing millisecond. All you could do was focus on the different feelings fighting to consume you, the thudding of your heart, the slickness of your hands, the churning of your stomach.

“Peter?”

Saying his name felt wrong, but you said it anyway as you knocked again, a bit harder this time. “It’s y/n,” you told him, as if it were even possible for him to forget the sound of your voice, “can I come in?”

Once again you were met with silence.

You considered turning around. Maybe Jameson had been right in thinking that you shouldn’t chase this story. After all, it wasn’t your job to prove Spider-Man's innocence, and if Peter wanted your help, then he knew how to find you. You could call Brant right now and tell her that today was a bust, or even lie and say that Peter didn’t want to help with the story. You could walk away.

But you didn’t let yourself do that, once again feeling that weight of responsibility that May had unintentionally placed on your shoulders. There was no one left in Peter’s corner, no one that would be willing to dig him out of whatever dark hole he’d landed himself in.

You had fought to save Harry’s life, and so it only felt right that you tried to do the same for Peter.

Without bothering to knock again, you reached for the knob and twisted, hastily slipping inside the room, trying to limit the amount of light the leaked in behind you. You didn’t know a lot about developing photos, but you’d never forgotten the way Peter would groan whenever you’d come in unannounced, accidentally letting the light ruin his work.

The door clicked shut behind you as you looked around. It wasn’t a big room, just large enough for two or three people to comfortably fit inside. Any more than that, though, and they’d likely be bumping elbows the entire time. There was a table in the center of it, lined with tubs holding various chemicals that you’d never learned the names of. A clothesline hung around the perimeter of the room, a few newly developed photos lazily dangling from it. On the far wall there were two desks, various images and tools scattered across them.

Everything in the room looked sinister, courtesy of the red tinted light that hung overhead.

”Fucking creepy.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill inched down your back. This room felt significantly colder than the rest of Watson Hall, only adding to its unsettling vibe.

The darkroom was empty, despite the sign on the door saying it was in use. The realization nearly made you breathe a sigh of relief, a part of you finding comfort in the thought that you wouldn’t actually have to confront Peter right now. But as you stepped further into the room and towards the twin desks, all your newfound relief dissipated.

Resting against the leg of the desk was a fluorescent yellow bookbag, decorated with a variety of cheap pins ranging from local bands to images of outdated memes. You remembered the first time you ever saw that bag, lying on the floor of Peter’s bedroom just a week or so before the start of Junior year. He threw a fit when Aunt May had come in, tossing the ugly bag on his bed and raving about how she had gotten it on sale just in time for back-to-school.

You made fun of him for months, always making note of the way its vibrancy clashed with his darker style. Secretly you had loved that bag, silently appreciative for how easy it made it to find Peter in the crowded halls of Midtown High. He would always beg Aunt May to get a different bag, but she refused, saying that they shouldn’t buy another until he had worn the yellow one out.

Looking at it now, it seemed that he had finally achieved that goal. The yellow fabric was a touch duller now, though not by much, and there was a noticeable tear in the seam of the front pocket. Kneeling beside it, you traced your finger over a trail of blue thread, having been carefully used to stitch the fabric back together.

You wondered why he had decided to fix it instead of just replacing it like he had always wanted.

Straightening back up, you scanned over the rest of the desk. There was a black reusable water bottle perched on the edge, a set of keys attached to a Deftones lanyard lying beside it. A bit of sweat trickled down the edge of the bottle, collecting on the surface of the desk. You reached for it, shifting it just enough to hear ice knocking against the metal walls. It had barely melted, meaning that it hadn’t been long since Peter had gotten here. Still, you had no clue where he was now.

Closer to the center of the desk was a neat stack of already developed photos. A girl graced the top of the stack—pale skin with bleach blonde hair, neatly pushed back by a black headband. You reached for it without hesitation, a single digit tracing along her grinning face.

Peter took pictures of a lot of people, you included, but it was undeniable that Gwen had always been his favorite subject. Looking at this photo, you couldn’t help but understand why. She was effortlessly beautiful, capable of taking your breath away without even trying.

You could never blame Peter for always trying to capture that beauty, fully aware that if you were him, she would’ve been your favorite too.

Without much thought you decided to slip the image into your bag. Peter had dozens of pictures of Gwen, while you only had a measly few. He could spare one.

The other images were far more recent than the first, with only one or two others featuring Gwen. There were snapshots of random Columbia students, a few cityscapes, and even one of the devil herself—Mary Jane, posed in front of the same mess hall that had ensnared you earlier. In the reflection you could see Peter, smiling from behind his camera.

You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes at the image. Were they really friends? The picture seemed to serve as enough of an answer, but you still couldn’t help but hope that you were wrong. Had Peter truly traded you in for Mary-fucking-Jane?

You roughly shoved that photo to the back of the stack, doing your best not to think about it as you continued to snoop through the rest of them. None were particularly interesting, save for the last two. Their dark composition offered a stark difference from the rest, while simultaneously making it difficult to tell what Peter was even photographing.

Taking one in each hand, your eyes darted back and forth between them, squinting as you tried to make out the subject, a task that was made all the more difficult by the rooms dim red lighting. You brought one closer to your face, making out a few trivial details. At the far edge, there seemed to be a street sign's corner, and in the middle a few streaks of dim light reflecting off a rain puddle.

Moving it away from yourself, you shifted your focus to the other one, thinking it appeared to be just a close-up of the first image. Then, slowly, you realized your mistake. It hadn’t been just a zoomed-in shot, as the reflection in the puddle made it something else entirely—a self-portrait.

But it wasn’t the warmth of Peter’s familiar brown eyes being reflected in the hazy liquid. Rather there was an outline of the two lifeless white lenses that belonged to his other self, the version of him you sometimes wished to forget.

The sight made you feel sick, sweat starting to form along your neck as you hastily flipped the photo over, desperate to avoid his sickening stare. However, what you saw on the back of the image was almost as bad as being forced to stare at Spider-Man's reflection. Scrawled in Peter’s barely legible handwriting was the date APRIL 2ND.

A new panic quickly trickled into your veins, fully replacing the one that had been born from the lifeless gaze of his mask. You read yesterday’s date over and over again, as if it would suddenly change. It never did, and a sizable knot formed in your throat as you slowly began to look up, shifting your focus to the forgotten photos pinned to the clothesline.

Your jaw fell slack, the photos in your hands following suit and landing on the desk below them. When you first entered the darkroom, you hadn’t paid much mind to the photographs hanging up, assuming they weren’t of much importance. Now, though, you recognized them for what they truly were—the sister images of the ones you’d been holding. Flashes of 102nd Avenue, Aleksei Sytsevich lying lifeless on the ground, milky white shards of bone peeking through his flesh. And there were photos of his mask, and those goddamn white lenses, spattered with Aleksei’s blood.

Peter hadn’t just been at the crime scene; he had documented it.

Your palm pressed roughly to your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek as you made yourself swallow the vomit fighting its way up your throat. Your own trauma fought desperately to rear its head as you analyzed the gory images, but you refused to let it take hold, scrambling to keep control as you forced yourself to snap into action.

After grabbing your phone, you wasted no time snapping pictures of the photographs hanging from the line, of the ones sprawled on the desk, of everything you could find. You didn’t know yet what you would do with them, but you refused to leave this room without collecting every bit of evidence you could find.

Once you were certain you had gotten it all, you worked to straighten the stack of pictures you’d gone through, adjusting them so they appeared as if they’d never been touched in the first place. Then, with your heart hammering inside your chest, you darted for the door without a second thought, paying absolutely no mind to the strange looks given to you by passing students as you rushed for the stairs.

You couldn’t stop moving, only slowing your frantic pace once you’d nearly made it to the exit doors. You rounded the corner as you tried to pull up Brant’s contact with shaky hands, wanting nothing more than to call her and get the fuck away from this campus. But, as soon as you went to press her name, your phone went flying from your hand and slid across the linoleum, your body pressing smack against another.

Sugary notes of vanilla flooded your senses, making your thoughts turn hazy. Your palms were flush against the soft cotton of someone’s shirt, and you could feel their fingers wrapping firmly around your shoulders, trying to steady you enough that you wouldn’t stumble back from the impact.

”Oh-shit!, sorry! I didn’t even see you-”

Their voice wasn’t the first thing you recognized, instead you found yourself caught up in the material beneath your hands. They were wearing a black Ramones t-shirt, a barely noticeable tear on the edge of the collar. But you noticed the tear instantly because you were the one who had bought the shirt. You got it at the record store on 6th Avenue—Rough Trade, was the name of it—and the man behind the counter gave it to you for half off all because of that tear.

You only ever got to wear it once before Peter nabbed it off your bedroom floor, never to return it.

”y/n?”

Your body betrayed you, immediately melting as the familiar sound of your name falling from his lips rang through your ears. Your heart had still been pounding in your chest this entire time, yet as your eyes met his for the first time in months, it fell still.

Peter didn’t fully share in your reaction. Instead of appearing as if he were lost in the same nostalgic haze you were caught in, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. His skin blanched, eyes growing unnaturally wide. For a moment you thought he was going to say something else, his lips parting, yet nothing came out.

In your lifetime, you had only known of a few things that could render Peter Parker speechless. You had now become one of them.

”Hi.” You squeaked out, a single hand lifting from his chest and offering an awkward wave that filled you with humility.

This wasn’t easy.

You weren’t sure how to act around him, how to behave. For nine months you had envisioned this moment, conjuring up countless things to say to him, all the insults you wanted to hurl his way. But now that it was happening, you found yourself torn between wanting to hug and choke him.

It seemed best to do neither.

”Um, hi?” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightened, just for a second, as if he were trying to prove to himself that you were really standing in front of him. Once he seemed satisfied with your physicality, he stepped back and released his grip on you entirely, subsequently making your other hand fall from his chest.

”You’re not-I mean-you don’t go here.” He rasped, laughing awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself.

”You’re right, I don’t go here!” You pointlessly confirmed, voice raising several octaves as anxiety took over. “Very observant.”

You cringed at the statement. Very observant?-you thought to yourself, biting down on the edge of your tongue as you watched Peter’s brows knit together-could've said anything, and that’s what you picked?

He didn’t even acknowledge the useless comment, only letting it hang in the air between you as he continued to wait for a true answer.

“I came to see you.” You choked out an honest answer, starting to shrink beneath his heavy gaze. You tried to step back, instinctively wanting to create distance between the two of you, but all you achieved was pressing yourself against the wall.

There was no escaping him.

He was quick to respond, making it clear just how high-strung he was. ”How did you find me?”

”I’m a reporter.” You reminded him, offering it up as a vague answer to his question. He’d likely expected the response, given the way his eyes narrowed in frustration. “Finding people is part of my job description.”

Peter always said that getting an answer out of you was like playing a game of charades, one that others very rarely won. You were a pro at dancing around the facts, only ever revealing them when they served to benefit you.

It was one of the many reasons you were so good at your job.

“Is that why you’re here?” His question carried a sharp edge, his irritation growing stronger now as his jaw tightened. “For the Bugle?”

Your body became tense, your shoulders squaring off as anxiety once again tried to shove to the surface. As you thought of the images you’d seen, the ones that were hanging just upstairs, your blood ran cold. You did your best not to let it show, instead trying to hide your fear behind a look of confusion. “Why would I be here for the Bugle?”

At first, he only stared at you, his brows raising in an incredulous manner. You forced yourself to stare back despite the discomfort it brought you. Then, finally, he answered. “You wanna talk about Spider-Man, right?”

Your heart sank into your stomach, lips turning dry as they parted. There was nothing good about the way the vigilante’s name rolled off his tongue, and you didn’t like it one bit. The semi-hushed tone he’d spoken in, laced with an essence of bitterness that one wouldn’t expect from the person that donned the mask.

Hesitantly running your tongue along your now chapped lips, you responded in a shaky voice. “Why would I wanna talk about Spider-Man?”

Harry’s advice rang through your mind—the same advice that had been mirrored by Aunt May, to remain wary of Peter—and you suddenly felt lightheaded. There was no way he could know that you found out about his identity that night, right?

No, of course not. It was impossible.

Peter appeared far more relaxed than you, his shoulders lazily lifting into a shrug. He didn’t seem to notice the sweat forming along your brow, making you think that you were doing an alright job at hiding your emotions. “Jameson wants new pictures of him, doesn’t he?” He threw out a guess.

Your shoulders instantly sagged with relief, your lungs aching as you lightly blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Given what you’d seen upstairs, you decided it would be best to stick to Harry and May’s advice. Peter didn’t need to know that you were aware of who wore Spider-Man's mask. Not right now, at least.

“I'm right, aren’t I?” Peter insisted impatiently, interrupting your racing thoughts and snapping you back into reality.

“Do you have new pictures of him?” You hastily snapped back.

“No. I don’t.” He lied straight through his teeth, once again running a hand through his already messy hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was obvious that he wasn’t planning to share any details of Spidey’s newly developed photoshoot hanging in the darkroom, and it would be against your best interest to press further, so you stayed quiet. When he opened his eyes again, he stared directly into yours. “And I don’t plan on taking any, so if that’s why you’re here then you’re wasting your time.”

You couldn’t recall ever hearing Peter sound so exhausted before. His recent lack of sleep was made painfully evident by the varying shades of purple painting the skin around his eyes. How long had he looked this way? Has it been since Gwen? In some sick way you hoped that you were right, knowing that grief being the cause was better than the alternative—the idea that his lack of sleep related to his involvement with Aleksei.

A part of you still refused to consider the images you’d seen as damning evidence that Peter had been the one to kill Aleksei Sytsevich. You couldn’t let yourself think that, refusing to believe that Peter Parker was anything even close to a murderer. It wasn’t possible.

But, as much as you hated to admit it, they proved that he was in some way involved. An accessory, at least. For some reason, hopefully a good one, he hadn’t stopped Aleksei’s murder from happening.

That came with its own dangerous implications.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to decide what direction you wanted to steer the conversation in, which angle would serve you best. With a deep breath, you made your choice. “Well, it’s good that that’s not why I’m here then.”

He looked surprised. “Wait,” he laughed awkwardly, “you’re not writing a piece on him?”

There was a thin line creasing the space between his brows, a strange expression on his face. His reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially because you were known for your articles on Spider-Man. But this wasn’t a look that showed he was shocked to hear you were passing up on a story, it was a look of pure offense.

You fought the urge to ask him why he cared so much, curious to find out if he had been expecting you to rush to Spider-Man's defense in the media. The only reason you held yourself back was the fear that maybe you were wrong, that maybe he hadn’t wanted you to defend him at all; perhaps he just wanted more press for his potential crimes.

”Seems like the Globe has it covered.” You told him, trying to sound disinterested. You hoped that he would buy your act. “No need to waste anymore ink on a story that’s already been told, right?”

Peter knew you well enough to know that there was more to it than that. Fortunately, he was willing to reason that your potential avoidance of Spider-Man related to that night, the last night all of you were together, and the events that neither of you wanted to talk about. Besides, even if he did want to mention it, he couldn’t do so without exposing his identity to you, an identity he wasn’t aware you already knew about.

So, as much as he didn’t want to let it go, he had no other choice.

”O-kay.” He stretched the word out, shaking his head lightly as he worked to regain his bearings in the conversation. As he did so, a few strands of hair fell against his forehead. He was quick to push them back. “Well, if that’s not it, then why are you here?”

There was only a second of hesitation, air hissing between your teeth as you sucked in a breath, crossing your fingers behind your back. You hoped Gwen would forgive you for the lie you were about to tell.

”Helen Stacy.”

The first emotion to wash over Peter was pain. It was obvious, showing in the way his shoulders slumped forwards and his bottom lip trembled, wincing as the surname of his dead lover echoed through his ears. It was the second emotion that was harder to detect, having been more cleverly concealed than the first. Anger.

You could see it in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he started to see red. Your own gaze flickered to his sides, stopping on his clenched fists, knuckles turning a pale shade of white. It made you feel uncomfortable, especially since you were the one on the receiving end of that look. You nervously cleared your throat, starting to fiddle with the strap of your bag.

“She called the other day and asked about running a memorial piece for Gwen’s anniversary. Obviously, she thought it would be best if Gwen’s friends put it together—you know, do it how we used to for the school paper. I’ll do the writing; you take care of the pictures.”

It was hard to sound confident as you elaborated upon the fabricated situation, too busy trying to focus on anything other than his heavy gaze. You focused on the floor, mostly, staring over at where your phone still laid on the ground. Still, even without looking at him, you could feel the weight of his attention. The air around you began to grow thin, every breath turning into a battle. You felt like you were being slowly suffocated by his fury, your lungs burning within your chest.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”

“You can’t say no, Pete.” You cut him off, forcibly lowering the walls surrounding your own trauma, using it to manipulate him. You didn’t feel bad about it, either. “We both lost our best friend that night, and that sucked. But Helen lost her kid. This is the least we can do for her.”

As the last word fell from your mouth, you forcefully pried your gaze off the ground and begrudgingly met his once again. Terror slid into your veins as you did, your body already preparing itself for that seething look of his—but it vanished. There was no trace of anger on his face. All that remained was the slightest glimmer of remorse.

His fists unclenched, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. Then he sighed, followed by a reluctant nod. “You’re right. She’s been through a lot, and if this will help bring her some sort of... I don’t know-” he waved his hands slightly, looking troubled by his own choice of words, “closure, then I’ll do what I can to help.”

Your mouth curved into a smile.

It seemed like a good sign, you figured, that he was willing to help. It reignited whatever hope you had left that despite whatever mess he had gotten into as Spider-Man, that he was still the same selfless Peter Parker you’d always known. He could still be saved. And, fortunately, you had now crafted the excuse you needed to get closer to him and figure out how to save him.

”Great!” You spoke a little too loud, your excitement coming off a touch too strong. You tried to lessen it, though the uncharacteristic reaction certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Peter. “Meet me at Sylvia’s tomorrow at six, okay? We can start going over everything and make a rough outline for the memorial!”

Peter immediately went still when he heard the name of the restaurant the four of you used to frequent. He hadn’t set foot in Sylvia’s since Gwen’s death, too afraid to face the memories hiding within its walls. He tried to speak, tried to tell you no, but he didn’t have the chance as you interrupted him again.

“Here,” You pulled a business card from your bag, thrusting it towards him with a pointed look, “in case you forgot my number.”

You didn’t hide the animosity behind the statement, using it as another tool to play on whatever guilt he might harbor for what he’d done to you. It seemed to work, given the fact that he promptly shut his mouth and chose not to argue. Instead, he cautiously reached out, plucking the cards from your fingers.

“Try not to ghost me for another nine months.” You playfully added on, the words joined by a smile that resembled something of a threat as you reminded him, “After all, I know where to find you now.”

Peter just returned the smile, tight lipped and far less ferocious than the one you’d given him. He knew that eventually you’d want an answer as to why he’d been avoiding you, but not right now. Now wasn’t the time for it.

So, he stuffed the card in his pocket as you skillfully skirted around him, going to grab your phone off the floor. Once you had it in your hand, you started towards the exit, already starting to dial Brant’s number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.” Peter called after you, watching as you pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

There was an eerie sense of familiarity accompanying his goodbye, one that left your heart swelling as the words sought to soothe any of the still-bleeding wounds that remained from that night. The comforting feeling was almost enough to make you forget about the images you’d seen in the darkroom, the ones that now also lived within the camera roll on your phone.

Almost—but not quite.

Brant answered on the first ring, seemingly overjoyed as another lie easily fell from your lips, confirming with her that Peter agreed to help take photos of Spider-Man so you could try and plead his case to the public—the reason she thought the two of you were searching for Peter. She was just as eager as you were to leave Columbia’s posh campus, swiftly agreeing when you asked her to meet you outside of the mess hall so the two of you could head back to the Bugle.

Now, waiting alone in front of the mirrored windows, you stared silently at the reflection in front of you. A girl with platinum hair, neatly tucked back by a black headband, stared back at you with her familiar bright green eyes. They were filled with enough dismay to make your chest ache, ridding you of any comfort that Peter’s familiarity had given you.

”You’re gonna have to see him again.” The somber tone she used was unbefitting of someone that you could only think to describe as sunshine personified; everything you ever wished you could be. “You’ll need his help.” Gwen told you. “You know that don’t you?”

You knew she wasn’t talking about Peter.

When you didn’t reply, she decided she needed to convince you further, tailoring her approach so it had the best chance of swaying you. She reached a handout, and you knew that if you had closed your eyes, you would be able to feel her fingertips brush against your palm as she squeezed your hand.

God, you missed that feeling. You missed her.

And it was because you missed her that you refused to close your eyes. Refused to let your brain mimic something that was no longer real.

Gwen’s doe eyes turned glossy, her rosy lips puckering into a pout that could make even the most unyielding man fold. ”He’s gonna need your help, too, y/n.”

You bit your cheek, thinking of the bottle of pills laying in the bottom of your bag, the ones you hadn’t had to take in so long now. You were getting better.

"You can’t save one without saving the other.” Gwen tried to tell you, although it only served to make you angry at her, unable to figure out why she would feel that way. She shouldn’t want you to save Harry, not when he was the reason she wasn’t here right now!

If she were here, really here, then maybe you would tell her that. Remind her of how well her altruistic lifestyle had ended.

But she wasn’t. So, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to turn away from the reflection. You immediately saw a flash of royal blue in the sea of students as Brant forced her way through the crowd. Fine—you thought to yourself, offering Gwen a silent answer as you started to make your way towards Brant.

”This place is a goddamn maze!” You heard Brant huff noisily once you were in earshot of each other, her bobbed hair swaying manically. She clearly hadn’t had a good time, but you weren’t really interested in hearing about it, either. Instead, you found yourself distracted by her appearance. Her neatly styled hairstyle, sharp winged liner, and stylish outfit. It made you think of the girls from earlier, the ones who had made you so self-conscious, and it gave you an idea.

If you were going to do this—follow Gwen’s advice and save both of your boys—then you needed to try and save yourself, too. And, luckily, you and Brant seemed to be about the same size.

“Do you wanna go shopping?” You asked bluntly, watching as Brant doubled-back, clearly not expecting your question.

She blinked, thinking it over before hesitantly replying, “Um, sure?”

Ravencroft could wait until tomorrow morning.

tag list - @pompeygirl89 @pockyandme

a/n - hi anyone who's bothering to read this! i'm super excited about this chapter for a variety of reasons and i hope that you enjoyed it! feel free to leave any comments or tips, i always appreciate them and can't wait to write more harry & dark!peter content in the next part <3

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icameheretoreadstuff · 7 months

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What's your plan now?

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Wet and Messy, unprotected Smut, creampie, Kinda Enemies to lovers, Sexual Tension Summary: He's got you pinned down, youre saying fuck you but really you want to say is Fuck me.. A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr. I do not own this pic, found it on pinterest. I got this idea stuck in my head and just needed to write it asap- part 2 is up

"what the hell are you doing?" you hissed "You're pretty cute when you fight" he smirked as he was pinning you down. "Do not expect me to go easy on your ass just because youre ontop of me" you hissed and tried to wiggle free but to no avail.

His knees was placed beside your hips, he held your both hands with one hand, pinned them down over your head and his other hand on your throat. "Do you have any idea how much you piss me off?" you panted "You are so fucking annoying, You think you can do whatever you want, huh?" You ranted, "keep going" he said amused "Shut up" you spat.

You were annoyed with how attractive he was, His muscled arm around your neck and his loose tshirt revealing his muslces around his neck and shoulders, you looked further down knowing his eyes were burning at you, but you couldn't help yourself as you looked down seeing his boner tighting up his pants and were inches away from your core. He smirked as you laid your head down and looked away while trying not to blush.

"Dabi" you whispered as you couldn't help but to feel so turned on. "I'm curious, how much have you thought about me?" he asked you couriously "Fuck you" You stared into his annoyingly beautiful eyes "I really like seeing you under me like this" his words made you blush "shut up" you whispered and couldn't help but to check him out.

"why won't you make me" he flirted, you were lost for words and mumbled "you make me so god damn frustrated" you couldn't help but to look at his lips, You blushed over the thought that he had this power over you.

He smirked "You had the opportunity to leave many times now" he said "but you keep checking me out" He moved down his hips and pressed his boner onto your clothed clit causing you to reveal your inner thoughts: you moaned instantly.

"Is this what you want?" He cooes "mmf" you moaned as you couldnt stop enjoying him pressing and grinding his dick ontop of you. His raspy groans made your head spin, You took deep breaths as you couldn't help but to thrust your hips up on his dick.

He lifted up his dick from your core, you bit your lips trying to hold back your moans. You quickly let loose of his grip and grabbed his collar "What's your plan now?" he whispered as he leaned his boner onto your clit once more, this time harder as he grinded his dick onto your clit. You let out moans as you pulled him closer and crashed your lips into his.

You couldn't hold back anymore and neither did he, all this teasing and flirting from him was making your head spin. Your mind was like a fog and the only thing you wanted was him. You moaned into his kisses as he pinned you down.

He leaned back and before he could say anything you said "take my pants off" He grinned as he dragged them off. "I need you" you whispered, he smirked and opened his belt and pulled down his pants revealing his hard throbbing dick bouncing out of his pants causing you to forget how to breathe for a second.

"Spread your legs for me sweetheart" You obeyed and he groaned as he leaned ontop of you and grinded his dick onto your wet folds while making out with you. "Youre so wet for me" he groaned, You moaned into his lips "I want you inside me" you moaned as you felt you were shaking of arousal "Fuck" He felt like his dick was throbbing as he grinded his dick into your wet folds. "y/n" he groaned as he grabbed his dick and pushed it inside you, He huffed and groaned as he rolled his hips and snapped his hips as he thrusted inside you slowly, with rough kisses.

You wrapped your hands around his neck as you moaned "you fill me up so good" you let out a deep breath, feeling your entire body shoot out a sparks down twoards your core as you thrusted your hips up so he could go deeper inside you.

His pelvis grinded on yours as he thrusted hard into you. "fuck" you moaned as you felt his dick filling you up on all the right places "You like me fucking you?" He groaned "fuck you feel so good" you moaned feeling unable to answer him, you gasped silently as you curled your toes feeling your climax coming on fast.

"Dabi" you moaned as he started to thrust harder into you, You climaxed and squirted on his dick. "Fuck" he groaned as he lifted up your legs almost up to your shoulders as he thrusted harder into you, the wet sounds filling the room as his hips were clapping and grinding on your pelvis.

He let out raspy moans "Cum for me" you moaned as you felt him grip your thighs hard "you want me to cum inside you?" you blushed as you nodded "say it out loud" he smirked while his hips were clapping hard into you. "yes, please cum inside me" you moaned as you felt another climax coming in.

"Fuck Dabi" you moaned, He groaned as he pressed his cock hard into you and climaxed deep inside you. He grabbed your neck and choked you lightly as he panted, he kept thrusting inside you "You wanna cum again for me, sweetheart?" you moaned at his words "be a good girl and cum on my dick" he smirked as his dick was thrusting inside you.

The wet sounds from where you were connected, his raspy groans and his rough kisses sent you over the edge, You climaxed hard and pulled him close and kissed him roughly while moaning. "Fuck!" you panted.

He slipped out of you as he smiled, seing your throbbing clit and his sperm slowly dripping out of you. "Fuck, this sight makes my dick hard all over again" he smirked "But sadly, I have to go" he said and raised up and took on his pants. Luckly you had some paper towls inside your pocket from the coffee place you were at earlier and cleaned yourself up.

You raised up and took on your pants "This was a one time thing" you said as you tried to collect yourself. He smirked as he walked over to the door and turned to look at you "yeah sure" he teased as he winked at you.

Both you and him knew this was not a one time thing, even if you didn't want to admit that to him "yeah sure?" you asked him, he walked over to you with a look on his face that made you blush, he grabbed your chin softly and leaned closer to your mouth to kiss you but stopped.

He smirked as he could read your face clearly. Your lips were like a magnet to his as you kissed him. His lips, his silent moans and his warmth felt like an addiction.

You couldn't help yourself as you started to make out with him, his lips felt too good- He felt so good. You moaned into the kisses as he suddenly leaned back "just a one time thing, huh?" he teased.

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crazyco0tz · 8 months

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{Cuddles with Enhypen}

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ~ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Warning: none

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

*he loves them alot, especially at night. After a long day he can lay in bed and wait for you to cuddle him! He will watch you walk into the bed room then throws his arms open to invite you in.

Normally you both lay face to face since you both adore staring at each other which may sound creepy but “who wouldn’t stare”

Sometimes he’s sad or really tired so he will lay on his side sulking (waiting for you to hold him) to which you come up behind him in bed to spoon him while you whisper about how much you love him and how proud you are, which will lead to red faces and cute giggles~

𝐉𝐚𝐲

*loves cuddling you on days off, don’t get me wrong he loves cuddling anytime he can but during days off comforts him so much he feels so calm with you on his chest or his on yours.

The first thing he does on a break day is demand you to take the day off too, after a few hours of begging you’ll give in, after you make sure you both eat breakfast the first thing he will do is drag you to the couch, turn on a movie, and will trap you there

You laying on top of him dragging your hand up and down his waist makes him feel like he’s on cloud 9, and you know it does. During bad days he will be on your chest, pouting, praying for you to play with his hair which you’ll gladly do~

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

*god he’s such a sweet boy he wants to cuddle all the time, you have gone days with him following you all around the house hugging your back or grabbing your arm

Like your tryna make tea with a full grown man clung to your back waiting for you to be done so you can go back to bed and cuddle properly.

Once your done making your tea you’ll turn to him waiting for the inevitable. “plEase can we go cuddle again?” Of course. Waking to bed with him trailing behind you like a puppy

You can’t even lay down before he basically jumps on you, also will fall asleep unbelievable fast in your arms it’s honestly cute.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

* “I don’t want to cuddle today..” three seconds later he is under the covers clinging onto your waist-

He wants to act all calm and closed of be he ain’t fooling you, so when u suggested cuddling for a while since you missed him you weren’t suprised when he said no at first, but it took one look from you to make him cave.

“That’s what I thought” you taunt as he holds onto you for dear life, not making eye contact with you of course but wil ask for you to hold him and talk a little bit, the next day he will deny everything (ofc)

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

*normally you ask and he will be so cocky about it, but once you change your mind he takes back everything he said and will literally lay in bed and saying “I’m waiting?” In a sassy tone

“Yeah whos cringe now?” You say. He’s such a bed hog tho, you have to manhandle him into the right position he’s none the wiser of how much space he takes up

Ones he’s finally given you enough room to lay down he will wrap around you like a slap on wrist band. He’s so fast with it, it’s almost like hes scare you’ll disappear if he doesn’t wrap around your body ASAP

Other than the little fights he puts up he is such a soft cuddler and loves to be held while his arms are around your shoulders

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

*also a little sassy lassy (I’m so fucking sorry😭) he’s a little back talker which is funny because he refuses to be anything other than small spoon

“Why would I wanna do that?🧐” 2 minutes later his back is to your chest and your arms are around his waist, but he needs to feel like he won so every now and then you’ll hear a “I’m doing this cuz I love you not cuz I like it 😒” but he’ll shut up real quick when you kiss his neck.

𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐢

*he cuddles anywhere but bed, he like to sprawl out at night so it hard to cuddle during then, but he always walks up to you when your watching TV to tug on your arm which mean “lay down” basically, then he will just flop on you to watch TV with you or he will just look at your face intensely and when you ask what he’s up to he hums n shrugs his shoulders with a little smile.

Or when your doing whatever at your desk he will sit in your lap facing you while his legs are slinged through the chair arms and his arms are around your waist.

Mostly does that when he is sleepy or just wants company, barely says a word to maybe a thank you or a I love you randomly but other then that he is quiet which means he’s calm and feels safe.

Hii this was mostly for my own entertainment so it’s very soft- also peep the new lay out?!😎

Anywayss ima post more enhypen and other groups more! Next post will most likely be NCT dream fake texts cuz it’s easier?!?!

Byee sweetiess

#kpop fluff #kpop reactions #kpop #enhypen #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios

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axerocknroll · 7 months

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My thoughts on the triple header:

I don’t even know where to begin, I think we all got overdosed by lestappen content in the last three weeks. Starting with Charles’ Pole in Austin and with him and Max talking before doing their interviews and clicking the picture for the top three in qualifying.

Mexico was a total banger with lestappen being posted and mentioned on RBR socials, F1 socials, Max’s inchident tiktok (that man knows it by heart, obsessed he is). And we also got lestappen podium. The smiles they had on their faces during that podium.

Brazil qualification, fantastic (although extremely chaotic!)

Lestappen P1-2 and not to forget, Charles’ Austin 2022 sunset lap finally got a parallel, with Max’s Brazil 2023 storm lap (he was sunshine, I was midnight rain- these two are so Taylor coded). And the post qualification debrief? All that chit-chatting, Max ignoring the interviewer cause he was busy talking with Charles. Charles after finishing his interview, immediately walking towards Max, who was literally staring at him and not to forget that when Max was getting interviewed, Charles was just three feet away from him. Charles reaching out for Max’s waist during the top three qualification picture?? I can’t believe Charles initiated it this time. Poor Lance though, he now understands what third-wheeling is. Let’s all welcome to the third-wheel group with Checo, Lewis, Carlos, Lando and whoever else has faced it.

RBR having Charles’ data on their pitwall? What is going on? Lestappen being mentioned on F1 official page again? Ferrari posting the inchident meme on their socials. MAX CALLING CHARLES, “CHARLIE?” I always knew that Max is the typa guy to call Charles, “Charlie!” It’s one of my headcanons. “Charlie, I have some space for you,” this is gonna be ingrained in my brain forever.

Also, when Charles came in the top three for sprint in Austin (I think), Max had his arm wrapped around Charles’ waist and today when Lando and Checo were in the top three, Max held his trophy instead of resting his arms around them. SUS IF YOU ASK ME.

Now, as a Charles fan first and foremost, this triple header was not at all good. The disqualification cause of the plank issues, FUCK YOU FERRARI. The only good thing out of the disqualification was the rise of 1644 nation. I absolutely love the development in their relationship. With the collaborative post and with Charles’ weird ass blue filter on it too. Lmao. And then the picture of Lewis took of Charles in Mexico, WHICH HE POSTED ON HIS MEXICO DUMP. Insane! And Charles even said that him and lewis have to definitely play chess together someday. I’m gonna cry, I like need a pic or video biblically of that.

And now the booing that Charles faced in Mexico, absolutely disgusted by that behaviour. It was not Charles’ fault. He didn’t deserve the booing. He couldn’t even celebrate it properly on the podium.

And Brazil today, did I mention, FUCK YOU FERRARI?? I’m literally one more vein popping away before I fly to Maranello, Italy and stab the people responsible for today’s disaster. What has Charles ever done to you? For him to receive this sort of treatment? Honestly, half of their team should be fired, ASAP.

Out on formation lap is just embarrassing from Ferrari’s side, why the fuck didn’t they check the car?? “We’re checking” is not a good answer.

I’m literally writing an email to Piero Ferrari after this rant. Strict action has to be taken at Scuderia Ferrari, starting with firing Xavi and everyone who created sf-23. I don’t give fucks at this moment. Happy to know that Charles has stopped wearing those ugly ass fuck red quail pants though. I’m loving him in the non-ferrari merch.

I am happy that we only have two more races with this tacky, ugly, motherfucking, shit ass of a car. BURN SF-23 after Abu Dhabi.

#I am down an entire bottle of red wine y'all #I can't believe I wrote a 600 word rant of the triple header #lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #i fucking hate that sf23 #FUCK YOU FERRARI #I WILL LITERALLY COMMIT ARSON #I AM GONNA BURN DOWN MARANELLO

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jeynearrynofthevale · 8 months

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Just watched the Connor McDavid: Whatever it Takes documentary and my main takeaway is that he’s insane but here are a bunch of random notes and pics:

““If it was up to my mom, we probably would’ve been a skiing family”

The drive, that’s who he is, he’s always been that way, since he was probably 3 or 4, he refused to let his parents help him get dressed and he would carry his bag everywhere, the bag was bigger than he was

“He’s intense and he’s competitive”

Bobby Orr said when he was 15 that he was gonna be the greatest skater to ever play

Tracy Wilson: Olympian and skating coach “what I love about Connor is it’s all about power, doesn’t matter how it looks, it’s about getting there”

Kassian “we haven’t seen a player like that in the game in maybe forever”

McDavid “at the end of the day, you’re still playing an nhl game, but that’s not much to hang your hat on” in reference to being out of the playoffs

“Right on the post square and I just felt the pain right away, thought I’d just broken my leg into a couple pieces”

They keep replaying him going into the net at top speed and it’s fucking horrible to watch

He whispered to me “I think it’s broke”- Kassian

“I was having flashbacks to Stamkos’s energy and I know stammer really well”

Stamkos texted therapist: “did he break his tibia?”

“If I could do it all over again, you’d like to take it back”- giordano

Team physical therapist asked if he could move his leg and told him he could either try to get up or call the gurney. Connor said “no, no, no” and stood up even though he was worried and thought his leg was going to give out”

“I held it together until we got though the tunnel and then I was just a mess” it took them 10 minutes to get back to the room

He said “stop, just give me a second”

3 guys had to hold him up the way back

Lauren “it was really hard when he called me, he just said “I think I broke my leg””

Brian “he was really upset and in pain, as a parent it’s hard”

Kelly: “it’s the worst thing in the world”

“Maybe in hindsight it would’ve been better if it was broken”

Never realized the infamous scene where Leon squeezes Connor in the hallway is from this.

Grade 2 strain of his pcl

“Hey dad, just want you to know I’m going for a second opinion in Colorado Springs”

Doctor told him it was a full pcl tear where tears on bth sides of his miniscus, “tore the popliteus right of the bone”

Full reconstruction of the knee, pcl, and popliteus would require a year recovery, doctor said he needed to do it asap, within a few day

“He was distraught, very, very under described”

His mom wanted him to have the surgery

Surgical intervention is to give it stability back

Had to make decision in 48hrs about whether or not to operate.

“He was very emotional and it was very difficult for him to talk.”

3rd opinion in LA: 2nd doctor is right about the issues but thinks the surgery is risky and doesn’t believe in it, wants to try to rehab it

Had to make that decision at 22 in 24 hours

Pcl cut right in half, back of knee joint completely torn, popliteus also completely torn, lateral and medial meniscus are both torn, crack in front of tibia from where he hit the post

“Hockey is my life”

He wanted to hear that he didn’t need surgery

His rehab guy literally lived with him

7 days a week, 10 hrs a day

50% chance to get him maybe skating again by end of summer

He was in a hyperbaric chamber daily for 40 days, 2 hours at a time

Claustrophobic in a literal tube

“At one point, doctor cleared him to flex his quad muscle”

They had to keep the injury as secret as possible, didn’t tell Ken Holland how bad it was

He would call his mom right after every mri appointment

He was in the pool all the time working on his knee

While rehabbing, his core specialist was like “might as well work on everything while we’re stuck here” and they worked on his core, pelvic floor, rotational movement, spine, everything

Gymnastics coach also helped

Didn’t want him to skate till September

He went on the ice with just his dad on his doc’s recommendation before September

He was so happy to be back on the ice with his father, completely changed emotionally that day

You can really see how much he loves just skating

He was so happy to know that even if he couldn’t fully heal he could still go on with the brace and skate

He’s so smooth in these skating exercises while in an insane brace

“One thing to be out there playing the game but another to do it at the level he was capable of”

Tracy Wilson did in their own words “edging” with him for afternoons, taking him through all sorts of movements and exercises without his brace

Opening night started to look like a possibility

He wanted to be there for training camp

He decided not to participate in biosteel

He wanted to play in all 7 exhibition games even though most veterans only did 4

“Like my first game all over again”

Seeing him on opening night was incredible for his training people

Okay, seeing the canucks slashing at him and shoving him into the boards in the home opener is now making me so protective

“He willed himself back”

#Connor McDavid #97 #hockey #oilers #Edmonton oilers #McDavid #cmd #mcjesus

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 2 months

Text

The Containment Diaries: Entry 7

Pairing: Virologist!Bob Floyd x Reader AND Aviator!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

ApocalypseAU

Warnings: Drowning, Swearing, Smut, Warfare, Disease, Military Inaccuracies, Medical and Science Inaccuracies, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol, Breakdowns, Gore, I think that’s it?

- Entry 6 Here -

——————————

18+ Only Beyond This Point

——————————

Your body went cold as you stared down the long hallway.

A bloodied man in uniform stood pulling clumps of hair out of his head, as the onlookers tried to stop him from further injuring himself.

The man in uniform suddenly stopped, and grabbed a female crew member by the throat. He lifted her almost effortlessly into the air as she scrambled desperately to get out of his grip as more and more crew members filtered in and tried to stop the man. He squeezed tighter and tighter, his fingers puncturing her skin and digging into her windpipe, she frantically kicked her legs as she gurgled on her own blood.

Your legs buckled as a second man appeared, followed by a woman, both with a glazed look in their eyes, flesh torn from their arms and face as it blistered off and died.

You wanted to scream, but you were so in shock that not even a whisper made it past your lips.

The first man now dropped the female crew member to the floor as she choked and gurgled, and locked eyes with Bob.

“Rue, we gotta go.” Bob mumbled.

The man began to run towards you, a terrifying grin plastered on his bloody face.

Bob hooked his arms under yours and yanked you into the lab, Mark and Sergeant Williams following and slamming the door shut, bolting it.

As soon as Bob unhooked his arms from yours, you collapsed to the floor, and grabbed the nearest trash can you could find under a nearby desk, unleashing your stomachs contents.

Bob crouched next to you and held your hair back, rubbing soothing circles into your back, but you could feel his hands shaking violently.

“We need backup, I repeat, we need backup. We’re trapped inside the laboratory. We need our boys and girls back to the ship ASAP! Do you hear me?” Sergeant Williams yelled into his phone. There was nothing but static on the other end, and he cursed loudly before slamming the phone down on a desk and pacing.

Once you were done being sick, you leaned back against a desk and closed your eyes tight as you wiped your mouth. Your head was pounding and your heart was thudding so hard you couldn’t think straight. You almost didn’t hear the banging noise at the door over the pulsing in your ears, but when you did you shot up and immediately backed away.

Someone was banging their head against the door, and the door was breaking. Bit by bit it began to crack, and you knew it wouldn’t hold for long.

You prayed that someone on the other end could stop the four infected, but gradually the single banging turned into 2, then 3, then 5, and then you lost count as a chorus of heads smashing into walls and doors deafened you. You put your hands to your ears to block out the sickening noise as more and more infected lost their minds to the illness, smashing their skulls against anything solid to ease the pain in their heads.

You couldn’t understand how this was happening so fast, the virus couldn’t possibly be spreading this quickly, the symptoms coming on almost immediately. You wondered if the alcohol Martin consumed had any affect on the virus, perhaps mutating it into something unstoppable.

Before you could think any further, you were being pulled towards the back of the room. Mark had kicked open a vent and you were being pushed inside.

Mark crawled in behind you and you found yourself having to force your claustrophobia to the back of your mind as best you could, you were terrified and the least of your problems was a small vent, dark and stuffy, with no way to escape… oh no.

You began to hyperventilate.

“Let me out. Let me out.” You mumbled. You tried to back out but Mark was blocking the entrance, the way forward a long, narrow and dark tube that made you want to scream.

“Let me out!” You cried, trying to force Mark out behind you.

“Rue!” You heard Bobs voice suddenly, near the entrance, “Rue baby you have to move, they’re getting in. I promise you will be fine, sweet girl.” His voice sounded scared but tried so hard to be soothing.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as you crawled forward as quickly as you could. You heard Bob climb inside the vent, and then Sergeant Williams, who grunted as he squeezed his large bulky body inside.

Your chest closed up as you realised just how trapped you truly were now. You whimpered when you heard the vent hatch close just in time as the wooden door in the lab cracked loudly and the sound of many feet thundered into the room, maniacal cackling and shrieking followed.

You pushed yourself forward with all of your might until you came to junction.

“W-where am I going?” You called back.

“Go left!” Sergeant Williams called, his voice echoing inside the stuffy vent.

You turned left and crawled for what felt like forever, your knees starting to grow sore and bruised, when you saw a light in the distance.

You laughed with relief as you crawled faster, and eventually made it to the end of the vent. You smushed your face up against the vent hatch and looked down, your heart suddenly plummeting.

“We’re trapped.” You cried.

“What do you see, Rue?” Mark asked from behind you.

“The ocean.” You closed your eyes tight as you contemplated your choices. Go back and face the infected, or jump and hope everyone could swim.

“We’re going to have to jump.” You confirmed, pushing the hatch open. You were very high up, and you hated the idea of being in the middle of the ocean, with nothing to keep you afloat, but what other choice did you have?

“Wait, what do you mean?” Bobs voice suddenly sounded panicked. You were now in his position, and you had to comfort him.

“It’s going to be ok Bobby, I’ll be right there, I promise. You just need to close your eyes and jump.”

“Rue I can’t-“ but before he could finish, you jumped. You straightened your body and pinched your nose as you hurtled to the dark water below. You closed your eyes and made contact with the sea.

The impact hurt, but that was to be expected from that height, and once you swam back to the surface and your head broke the water, you gasped for the air that was knocked out of you.

You took a second to find your bearings, and when you looked up towards the huge ship, you saw Mark hurtling towards the water. He landed with a thump and you swam towards him.

He came back up spluttering and coughing and you checked that he was ok before you looked back up. You saw Bobs head peak out before immediately disappearing back inside.

You sighed, he needed to get out of there, who knew if the infected would eventually figure out how to get into the vents.

“Bob!” You called, “Bob please, you have to jump!”

Bobs head popped back out, even in the distance you could see the terrified frown on his face.

“Rue I can’t, I have to go back.” He called.

“No, no! You can’t do that, Bob, listen to me, you have to jump.”

Bob was quiet for so long as he looked down at the water below.

“Bobby please, I can’t swim for much longer, we have to go.” You cried.

Bobs expression changed from scared to worried, he looked at you with soft eyes and his eyebrows knit together, and without a second thought, he was pulling himself through the small hole and hurtling towards the water.

You cried happily, and swam towards him as he dropped in and swam back up.

“You did it!” You cried, grabbing onto him as he coughed the air back into his lungs.

Sergeant Williams landed in the water and spluttered to the surface.

“We need to get away from the ship.” He instructed, nodding towards the rudders which were bubbling and pulling water just under the surface, dragging you all slowly towards it in its current.

You swam further out but your arms and legs quickly grew tired. You scanned the surrounding water desperately for something, anything you could hold onto.

Other than the ship, you were stranded, and there was absolutely nothing you could see that you could hang onto.

You tread water for a long time, and your legs began to grow slow and weak.

You took and deep breath and lay flat, you began to float until you breathed out, continuing the movement just to give your poor muscles a break. You instructed the others to do the same, but Mark began to panic and stopped listening.

“Mark, you need to just float, take a deep breath.”

He was hyperventilating now, thrashing about in the water, his head temporarily disappearing below the surface for seconds at a time.

“I’m- I’m trying! It’s not working!” You swam over to Mark and tried to grab him, but he kept thrashing and wouldn’t stay still for long enough, he was scared, terrified even.

“Mark, Mark!” You tried to get him to stop, Bob and Sergeant Williams swam over and tried to calm him.

Mark, as a last ditch attempt to keep his head above water, sent his feet upwards to tread the water, and ended up kicking Sergeant Williams in the face. Blood spewed out of his nose and he sank below the water, unconscious.

“Sarge?” Bob called, feeling around the water for him while desperately trying to keep own his legs from giving out.

“Oh my god, Sarge?” You were now starting to panic but you needed to try and keep a cool head. You turned back to Mark, but he was gone.

You took a deep breath and stuck your head under the cold water, blinking a few times. You searched the dark water for any sign of Mark or Sergeant Williams.

You spotted a body sinking towards the darkness, too far to grab onto. You pushed yourself further down and began to swim, but you felt a hand grab your ankle and you were swiftly being brought up to the surface.

You coughed and gasped, “Bob what are you doing, they’re down there!”

Bob shook his head, what you didn’t realise is that he had also gone down to take a look, and the body you were so determined to go after was too far and sinking too quickly. It was over for Mark and Sergeant Williams.

“They’re gone.” Bob stated.

You wanted to cry but the ache in your arms and legs was starting to grow unbearable. You nodded sadly, and you and Bob swam further out so that you were a safe distance from the ship.

You both lay back and breathed, floating as best you could to give your legs a break, all the while trying to figure out how you would get out of this mess. You felt Bobs hand intertwine with yours, and you breathed as you both bobbed in the water.

——————————————

You began to shiver violently as the sun dipped slowly over the horizon. You and Bob had been floating for hours. Horrible, chilling screams were now ever present on the ship. You could hear them through the vents and windows on the upper decks, a tangled mess of agony, anger and general lunacy, but none had figured out how to unlock the door to the flight deck, and you were relieved about that as you didn’t know if the infected had retained the part of their brain responsible for motor skills, and if they could swim.

You thought about giving up, about just letting your sore muscles, achey bones and burning lungs sink to the bottom of the ocean, and letting it all be over.

You let out the breath you’d been holding for a painstakingly long time, your fingers slipping from Bobs, and you closed your eyes and waited for your body to sink.

But instead of the sound of the sea crashing around your eardrums, you heard a high pitched whine, gradually getting louder and closer, turning into a loud rumble.

You opened your eyes, Bob also noticing, and you both frantically searched the surrounding area for the source of the noise.

You choked out a laugh as you saw them, suddenly filled with strength to keep yourself afloat as 6 F18 Super Horners appeared in the distance, quickly growing closer.

Bradley had come back for you.

You and Bob began to wave frantically in the hopes they would see you in the quickly darkening water. A second noise drew your attention on the carrier, and banging sound growing louder and louder.

You ignored the noise and focussed your energy on trying to get the attention of any one of the pilots as they flew over head. You weren’t sure if they saw you as they landed on the carrier, but you were suddenly filled with a new sense of hope.

Several minutes passed as the jets landed and the pilots climbed out of their aircrafts, and you and Bob waited with bated breaths. You could hear a commotion on the landing strip and suddenly Bradley was standing on the edge, looking down at you.

“Oh my god, it’s Rue.” He breathed to himself. You laughed again, you now wanted to sob again, but with relief.

Bradley disappeared suddenly, for several minutes, and the pounding noise grew louder.

You couldn’t figure out where the sound was coming from, but when Bradley reappeared with a life raft, you called out to him.

“Brad! Don’t go inside, don’t let anyone open the door!” You cried.

“What? Why wouldn’t-“ but before he could get any further, one of his squad opened the flight deck door, and out poured the infected. One by one they filtered out, bloody and angry and psychotic. Skin blistering and torn at, heads battered and bruised from where their brains had began to swell and they had desperately tried to rid themselves of the pain, quickly growing insane as the madness took over.

Bradley turned back to look as Reuben and Nat were trampled. He threw the life raft into the sea and ran back to help.

“Bradley no!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, but he was determined to save his team.

He disappeared and you listened desperately. Screaming and cackling and tearing noises took over your senses as you began to shiver again.

After what felt like forever, Bradley appeared over the edge and without a second thought, he dove into the water below.

You choked out a relieved sob as you began to swim to him, but stopped as you looked up, hundreds of twisted faces staring down at you, hungrily.

Bob grabbed your arm and pulled you backwaters, and Bradley reappeared from under the surface.

He gasped and quickly swam to the raft, pushing it towards you and Bob.

“Rue.” He grunted, “Get in!”

You did as you were told, and used your remaining strength to pull yourself into the raft, landing with a wet flop.

Bob followed and then he pulled Bradley into the raft. The three of you collapsed and panted, exhausted and wet and cold. The mangled faces of Bradley’s crew staring down at you as you drifted out further to sea.

You grabbed Bradley’s hand and held onto it tight as he cursed loudly, his body shaking. You rolled your head over to look at him.

“You came back.” You cried.

Bradley sniffed as he took one last look at his squad on the ship above, and then tore his eyes away to look at you instead, a soft sad smile now on his lips, “I told you I would, Rue girl. I was always coming back for you.”

—————————————-

- Entry 8 Here -

I don’t have a Taglist for this series but I will be updating my Masterlist as I go! 💛

Likes and reblogs welcome and appreciated!

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rowretro · 5 months

Text

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: Sexual harassment, kissing, mentions of a foot fetish

✧taglist✧: @heeseung-min

✧CHAPTER 6✧

Rowan held Sunghoon's hand, lovingly with a smile, as she walked through the school hallways. It has only been 3 months since the 2 started dating. Heeseung was happy for them, really, but part of him is pretty upset. Upset that his best friend took his baby sister. The man he most trusted with y/n is now dating her. God how much he wished it was something innocent but given how Jooyeon would openly make out with his sister, he didn't have high hopes about Sunghoon, heck he may have taken her virginity.

Their mother still trusted Sunghoon deeply while their father didn't really care, hence y/n was allowed to live with Sunghoon. "Babe I'll finish packing my bags tonight kay?" y/n said as Sunghoon kissed her forehead. "Y/nnnnn we're gonna be late for class!" Eunchae called out, waiting for her. Y/n smiled, kissing Sunghoon's lips one last time, before she ran to Eunchae, the 2 going to their lesson, giggling about some stupid things.

"Let me get this... you've only been dating for about 3 months, and you're already moving in with him?... I guess that's ok since he spends a majority of his time at your home" Eunchae shrugged as she took some notes. Y/n smiled and doodled in her notebook, taking notes at the same time. Smiling as she did so.

"Eunchae and Yunjin... Ah- and y/n you can work with Sungchan." The teacher finished as Sungchan turned to y/n, winking at her flirtatiously. "Isn't that the guy who's friends with the foot fetish boy?... I thought Sungchan got arrested-" Eunchae whispered to her as y/n shrugged. "Meh it's fine, it's just a school project" y/n said reassuringly.

Eventually the school day came to an end "See you tomorrow bestie~" Y/n smiled as Eunchae hugged her. "Wow I love the change in vocab, 2024 and your most used phrases are, Slay, bestie and lawd ha mercy" Eunchae snickered, before Eunchae could leave with her friends, she caught sight of Sungchan slapping then full on groping y/n's ass. Just as Sungchan walked away, Sunghoon walked up to y/n, seeing him arrive, Eunchae left asap.

"Hey darling, ready to go home?" Sunghoon asked as y/n forced a smile, nodding. That forced smile. Sunghoon knew that smile... but he wasn't going to push it because he wasn't too sure yet "After I finish packing sweet heart, just one more suitcase~" y/n smiled, kissing his jaw. Sunghoon had already unpacked half of her belongings in the bedroom beside his. He drove her by her home, as Heeseung stood at the door hugging her pretty tightly.

"Heeeee- let go I need to finish packing!" y/n exclaimed as the boy poutily let go, narrowing his eyes at Sunghoon. Sunghoon chuckled at his actions, patiently waiting for y/n. the girl dragged her last suitcase into the boot with Heeseung's help, and after a long good bye, Sunghoon drove her to his apartment.

Upon arriving at the place, y/n examined how luxurious it is, a little intimidating by the big building. "I know its bigger than your home but don't worry sweetheart, I'll show you around, your bedroom is right beside mine and you can sleep with me anytime you want." Sunghoon winked making her blush a little. "I have to stop by a friends later, presentation" y/n said as Sunghoon nodded, assuming it's with Eunchae. The girl unpacked her last suitcase, not noticing the cameras in her new room.

As she released a sigh, she left her room looking for Sunghoon. One thing the girl noticed was how high on security measures Sunghoon was. "Sweetheart, want me to drop you off?" Sunghoon asked as y/n smiled at him sweetly. She knew Sunghoon would worry if he found out that she had to be working with the Sungchan who was bailed out by his rich father.

"N-no it'll be fine..." she trailed off as Sunghoon grabbed his car keys "No no sweetheart... I insist, its so dark so early, let me take you there hmm?" Sunghoon didn't even let her respond as he softly dragged her to his car, her 7 inch heels sort of dragging across the floor a little as he did so. "So what's the address?..." Sunghoon asked, turning to face her y/n nervously scratched at her arm "Y/n... " he trailed off as the girl's hand reached the back of her scalp already picking one of her scabs.

It was one of her nervous habits, she'd pick scabs from her scalp, Sunghoon pulled her hand away, staring at her intensely, "What are you hiding from me?...." Sunghoon asked sternly as y/n sniffled. "Baby... You know you can tell me anything right? I'm your boyfriend, I live with you." Sunghoon convincingly said as he hugged her, comfortingly.

"I-I have to do my presentation with Sungchan..." y/n admitted as Sunghoon frowned, pulling his key out of the car. "Jung Sungchan?! That perverted mother fucker?!!!" Sunghoon asked, somewhat mad as y/n sniffled "I-I'm sorry, I thought that id would be fine, it's just a school project and the teacher did pair us, but then I realized I was wrong..." the girl admitted, as she looked down at her lap. "What do you mean you just realized?!... Y/n did he touch you?!" Sunghoon asked as the girl went silent.

He didn't need to hear anymore... The key was back in and the car was up top speed...

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

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isimpfortoomanypeople · 2 years

Text

Winter Blues - Eddie Munson x Gn reader

Part 2

You thought that you found the perfect person, the one person who would love you no matter what. But why did he turn around and break up with you out of the blue? Returning back from winter break was always going to be hard but you didn’t expect for it to be this hard.

Warnings: a lot of angst, breakups, anxiety attacks, depression, smoking and Eddie being a massive dick (but there’s also Gareth being a supportive friend, he was only in a few scenes but he won my heart)

A/N: so when I said that I have a very angsty Eddie fic I wasn’t joking. For maximum angst you can listen to ‘bored’ by Billie Eilish, ‘I miss you I’m sorry’ Gracie Abrams and ‘let me down slowly’ by Alec Benjamin like I did while writing this and I made me cry. As someone who also uses they pronouns as well as she, I hope that this is okay for all readers but please let me know if I’ve made it too feminine and I’ll make changes ASAP . There maybe a part 2 but that’s if you guys like it enough to have a part 2. I’m from the U.K. so sorry if it sounds overly British in parts. Apologies for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy.

You sighed letting that breath out that you were holding in all morning while you waited in your car. You felt suffocated, every step until you reach Hawkins high made the air feel heavy and thick, till the point you were starting to feel lightheaded.

Where the fuck was Gareth?

You needed to escape this car as soon as you could as the world around you started to close in, the peripherals of your vision started to blur, the world started to spin as your body felt like it was dropping into this pit of anxiety. Fuck you really need to get out of this fucking car!

You started tapping the pads of your fingers together trying to calm yourself down, telling yourself that it was all going to be okay, even if it felt like the biggest lie you ever told.

Gareth hurry the fuck up!

“Hey” he greeted sliding himself in the passenger’s seat, “how are you?”

You couldn’t help but give him a glare as you scoffed at his stupidity, did he really need to ask that when the answer was so blatantly obvious?

“I know stupid question” he sighed looking at your scolding eyes that were bloodshot with purple bags adding to the picture of the little sleep you had gotten the night before. You looked so pale and fragile, only the shell remains of the person you once were.

It wasn’t everyday you had to see your ex who held the same social circles as you. The one person who you imagined that you could spend the rest of your life with, the one person who promise he would never hurt you. But that promise was as cheap as the cologne he wore.

All you needed to do was survive today then you can resume your daily routine of crying yourself to the very little sleep you’ll be receiving , crying till you throat throbbed red raw, sobbing till your voice became raspy and horse. Staring up at your ceiling praying for the pain to be over soon as each dreaded second ticked by.

You slammed the car door behind you, taking out the painful mixture of heartbreak and frustration you were feeling on the piece of metal. Stupid fucking Eddie Munson!

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Okay as I can be when your heart got ripped out of your chest two weeks ago” you shrugged, no emotions was registered in your face. Maybe this pit of numbness that covered your body as a protective cloak, is better than feeling like you were dying in the most slowest painful way possible?

Gareth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wish that he knew what was the right thing to say or do in this situation. He was your closest friend, he hates that you’re in pain but he can’t help but feel a little frustrated that he has spent the last two weeks of his winter break at your side helping you to pick up the pieces. He was sick of hearing Eddie’s name, Eddie was once his friend and his band mate but right now he wants nothing more than to take his guitar and hit it over his fucking head.

“Look I’ll see you at lunch”

“I’m gonna miss lunch, I don’t exactly feel like eating much at the moment” you weakly smiled at him, the ball of led in your stomach weighed it down making you feel nauseous and the thought of eating made the bile creep up your throat.

“Have you been eating?”

“Gareth please don’t start!”

“I will literally throw a sandwich in your face if I find out you haven’t eaten anything today” Gareth warned you, he didn’t mean the frustration that he has been swallowing down to come to the surface, but he couldn’t stand to see his friend destroy themselves over someone who wasn’t worth their tears.

Gazing at the floor, you kicked a rock with your foot. You felt like you’ve just been scolded for the worst thing possible, feeling this pang of guilt for also dragging your best friend down with you, you’ve never felt this level of heartbreak before so you didn’t know how to cope, especially when it feels like your whole world was ending.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that”

“It’s okay” you sighed, reaching into your bag pack for the fabric that almost burnt to touch, like the material was laced with poison. But then again the shirt was tainted with memories of him, “give this to Eddie at lunch”

“Your hellfire shirt! Are you seriously thinking about quitting Y/N? You loved it”

“I did love it, but my ex is literally the DM so I can’t exactly sit through a campaign right now” your voice cracked as the tears you desperately tried to bury deep down started to rise to the surface.

You felt relief flood your body when you heard the bell, it almost felt like a lifesaver protecting you from the pain of thinking about the club you use to love. The club that you use to look forward to every week, the club that brought you and Eddie together.

Nope! You pushed down these emotions with so much vigour you could feel the muscles in your throat strain.

You pushed the shirt into his arms, saying that you’d see him later as you ran towards the building, the sooner the day begins the sooner the day will end.

Ignoring all states you received at your ghostly appearance, your shoulders caving in to create a barrier hiding yourself from the outside world as you walked towards the classroom. Praying that no one would say a word to you as you most definitely will break down again.

Much to your luck, you didn’t share any classes together. The only interactions you used to share was him carrying your books to class, sitting by his side at lunch smiling at his passionate speeches about the latest campaign or about anti conformity, or at hellfire where he made sure you sat next to him where he’d place his hand on your thigh allowing you to play with his rings to help you concentrate more clearly on the campaign.

Leaning against a wooden post that kept the bleachers upright, you took a long drag of a cigarette. Feeling the softening of your muscles as the warmth circuited through your body, huddling against your denim jacket to keep out the harsh bitter winter winds.

Stubbing out the cigarette with your heel, turning to leave but you saw something in the corner of your eyes that made your heart drop.

No, no! This has to be some form of sick joke!

Tears burnt your eyes as the salty tears streamed down your cheeks. You body trembling as you held a hand to your mouth to muffle the sobs that wrecked through your body

There in the distance was Eddie who had his arm gently placed around the shoulder of no other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. She looked at the metal head with doting eyes, her cheeks blushing with either enchantment or the cold, it was hard to see from the distance but it made you feel sick to watch. His face held the same smile that was only reserved for you, well at least it used to be. The sort of smile that could make you melt in an instant, like you are the most beautiful thing that he ever had the privilege of seeing.

You couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came up, how fucking typical! The metal head and the cheerleader, what a sickening cliche.

And Chrissy out of all people, you couldn’t be more opposite if you tried. The golden girl of Hawkins, effortlessly beautiful in every way possible without a single flaw on her pristine body.

God this really hurts!

Two weeks, that was all it took for him to move on, for him to throw you to the wayside. Like these past 6 months meant nothing to him! Like every time he told you that you were the love of his life, no one else could compare to you he must of had his fingers crossed behind his back, because from you just witness he sure as hell didn’t mean a single word.

You had to lie to school nurse that you had a migraine for her to take pity on you and allow you to bunk the rest of the day off, lying in her office till you heard the final bell.

“Y/N, what happened I didn’t see you in chemistry?” Gareth questioned seeing you looking somehow worse than when he saw you last.

“He’s dating Chrissy” you muttered all emotion drained from you body from spending the afternoon balling your eyes out till you had no more tears left to cry.

“What! I’m going to fucking kill him” he growled, his eyes scanning the proximity of the car Park, if Eddie dared to show his face he would soon wish that he hasn’t

“Come on, let’s just go” opening your door and starting your engine wanting nothing more than to bury yourself in your blanket and hope that it could erase you from reality.

—————————————————————————-

A knock from your door took you away from staring at the ceiling wishing for your heart to mend itself together like Eddie never existed, or at least for him to feel the same amount of pain you were experiencing. As it unfair that he can just go on and not feel a thing while you felt like you were dying with each second that past by.

You opened the door to see the last person you cared to see.

“I heard you quit hellfire”

“Yeah I did, it’s kinda hard to still be a part of it when your ex is the DM”

“How are you?” He asked awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes not daring to meet yours, for if he did he would see the consequences of his own actions. The pain he caused you hung heavy within your eyes, for this was the first time in two weeks have you two seen each other.

“Do you really need to ask that?” You bitterly sneered at him, he looked taken back from your sudden attack but he had his arm around another person a few hours before like you didn’t exist, so he has definitely dug his own grave and he needs to lie in it.

“Look I know it hu-“

“I’m sure you know how bad it hurts, you broke up with me out of the blue. I thought everything was fine you even spent Christmas with me for Christ sake!” Your voice struggling to hide your pain as tears flooded your eyes clouding your vision

“We were fighting”

“All couples fight!” You seethed at him, you wanted to scream at his audacity that he thought that breaking up wit you after one small fight was worth throwing 6 months in the trash. You wiped the tears that spilt from your eyes taking a deep breath before continuing to speak. “I don’t understand how you can be fine after this, you told me that you loved me. Was that a fucking lie?”

“No of course it wasn’t” he sighed, trying to push down his own anger. This was stupid him even coming here

“It must have been, because you can move after two weeks. Do you know how much that hurts? Well it feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and has trampled upon. How long have you and Chrissy been dating?”

Eddie looked at you with his brown eyes wide in shock, he shook his head to made sure he heard you right.

“What?”

“I saw you together at lunch, you looked very cozy” it was taking every inch of you not to scream at him right now, your body turning ridged with anger, your brain was a frenzy of brutal flames.

“Well how do I know that you and Gareth aren’t dating?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well he’s been glaring at me all day, giving me shit and trying his damn hardest to make my life a living hell. Are you letting your boyfriend fight your own battles for you now?”

“Oh so I’m now dating Gareth because of what? Him being a fucking good friend? Are fucking kidding me right now!” You bitterly laughed at him, your voice laced with venom finally letting your pent up anger out. “Fuck you!, go to Chrissy and treat her well, better than you’ve treated me!”

You slammed the door in his face not allowing him to say another word to you. sliding down the wooded frame till you formed a ball on the floor. Allowing the tears to fall down your face. Letting out a strangled scream out of pain. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as the room started to close in.

Fuck you Eddie Munson!

A/N: I’m sorry I know it hurts, it hurt to write. So let me know if you want a part 2 and if you want to get back with Eddie after a lot of grovelling or you think you deserve better than him in this fic? It’ll help me to write the ending, thanks

#stranger things eddie #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson sad #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader

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bethdutten · 2 years

Text

Wouldn’t Dare to Hope

summary: After your night with Bucky in Italy, it takes another four months before you, Steve and Sam find him in Romania. By then, it’s clear you fucked up.

words: 4.1k

a/n: ok I might do a part 4 because... well you’ll see I just think I need a short epilogue to this series lmao ugh someone hold Bucky and make him better and let it be me

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

There he was. Standing a few feet from you, eyes darting from you and Steve to the door, but he looked more scared than hostile. Apprehensive, at best.

Steve held out a hand, eyes on Bucky. “Do you know who I am?”

Bucky blinked. “You’re Steve.”

That pulled a small smile from Steve, and he nodded. “Yeah, Buck. That’s good.”

You watched his eyes flicker to you, brows furrowing. You suddenly felt sick, stomach churning as his gaze seemed to hold no type of recognition while he studied you. You swallowed. “Do you know you I am?”

He was thinking, breath coming out a little heavier, like he was panicked for not knowing the answer right away. Finally he shook his head.

“No.”

You have two seconds to turn away from Steve and to the sink in the small kitchen before you threw up.

Everything got a bit fuzzy after that, the crackle in the comms making you wince.

“Sam! Get her out of here! I’ve got Bucky!”

The sun was blinding, and your head was throbbing. There were gunshots somewhere, but you couldn’t place what was up and what was down, gasping when a pair of arms scooped you up and suddenly jostled you, holding you close.

“Just me, I’m gonna get you somewhere safe.” Sam. Safe. You shut your eyes, and waited until you were safe. Somewhere safe didn’t seem to exist anymore.

—-

It felt like only minutes later when you were yanked out of sleep, the sound of zippers filling the hotel room. You looked over and saw Steve, a sheepish look on his face.

“Sorry. We gotta get out of here ASAP. Are you feeling good enough to walk, or do you need me to take you?”

You groaned, getting to your feet and only feeling slightly dizzy. You stood and were happy to find your stomach settled, at least for now. “I’m good.”

Steve gave you a glance, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Okay. Flu, or something? We should get you to a doctor when we get back.”

You nodded, throwing what little you brought into your own bag. “Yeah, probably just caught a bug. Sorry for fucking things up back there. Where to next?”

He looked at you over his shoulder, tapping in a number to his phone and pressing it to his ear. “We got him. We’re going home.”

—-

The jet ride home was surreal. You were across from Bucky, and couldn’t stop looking at him. It had been four months since Italy… he’d filled out even more, hair a bit longer. But he seemed almost timid, in a way he wasn’t before. Less Soldier, more… man who was just realizing he used to be a person before all that. And he could be a person again, now.

But he kept his right hand close to a gun, and you bet it took a hell of a lot of convincing and fighting for Steve and Sam to get him here.

And every once in awhile, his vigilant surveying of the jet landed on you, and every single time, it broke you to see his eyes completely move past you without a hint of recognition. Something must have happened between the time you last saw him and now. In some ways, he was doing a lot better—he was clearly eating, his hair was clean, clothes well taken care of. But he barely remembered Steve as a person he was supposed to know, and didn’t remember you at all.

Steve was watching you watch Bucky, and you hoped he just thought you were making sure he didn’t attack Sam while he was flying or going to lunge at Steve with a knife or something. You doubted it, though. He was too observant, and it was making you wish you weren’t around your best friends as your heart broke into a million pieces.

You were suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of longing as you thought back to what he had said in Italy, right before he left:

“Listen… if I forget. If I go back to… him…” Bucky met your eyes, a shadow of pain in them even having to do this. “If I can’t come back to you… you have to know how much this meant to me. How much you mean to me. What you did in New York, and last night—I don’t think anyone else would have cared about me, trusted me like you do. I don’t deserve it, but I’m going to do everything I possibly can not to forget it.”

Your worst fear. Sitting right across from you.

You jumped up from your seat, reaching the bathroom at the back of the jet just in time to vomit the small amount of food you’d forced yourself to eat that morning.

—-

Steve made you head straight to medical while he took care of Bucky, but you already knew what was wrong.

You felt numb, but also like all the suffering in the entire world was being shoved into your chest and held down so it couldn’t escape until you ripped this thing out. Then the reality of the situation set in, and you hoped you stayed numb for awhile.

When Dr. Cho confirmed that you were pregnant, she asked if you’d like to inform anyone else on the team. What she really meant was, ‘Is there anyone you’d like to personally explain the reason why you’d be pulled from missions for awhile or just wait until they eventually figured out’.

An hour later and Steve was walking into the room you’d been in, looking so concerned you’d think he was expecting you to be dying or something. Well. Right now, you felt like that might be a better scenario.

“What’s wrong? It’s not just the flu, is it? I shouldn’t have let you go out in the field, I--”

“I’m pregnant.”

He stopped, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head trying to figure out the best response. Finally he swallowed, approaching you like one would a wild deer they didn’t want to spook, taking both your hands in his. “How do you... how do you feel about this?”

You broke down.

Steve held you while you wept for what felt like hours, the racks of tears unable to stop. You eventually slowed down to pathetic little sobs, and you just wanted to disappear, to be in any situation except this one. There was no good outcome to this. There couldn’t be.

Rubbing your back soothingly, Steve rested his cheek on the top of your head, his body completely engulfing yours like he thought if he could physically shield you from the world, he could keep all the other bad stuff away.

“Is this how I’m going to be for the next five months?” you managed to get out, voice still hitching. Everything hurt. Everything.

“You’re not alone, you know,” he murmured, squeezing you just a bit tighter when you sucked in a shaky breath. “If... if the father doesn’t want to be around, you’ve got a whole team that would die for this kid.”

And that-- that just made your heart wrench, a choked sob coming out as you started crying again. “That’s just fucking it, Steve. He is around, he just doesn’t know who he is enough to be a dad even if he wanted to.”

You felt Steve freeze, body tense as he slowly pulled you away from his chest enough to meet your eyes. “What do you mean, ‘he is around but doesn’t know who he is’.”

Steve already knew the answer-- he just also knew it was an impossible answer so he needed to hear you say it before he even let his brain think it.

You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. Once you said this, you couldn’t run away anymore.

“It’s Bucky.”

You watching the pieces fall into place for Steve; why you were so adamant on searching for Bucky with him, the confusing obsession you had with making sure there wasn’t a single stone unturned until you found him, the way you’d reacted when Bucky didn’t know who you were.

“I don’t understand. How... how did this happen? When did you-- how did he--”

“After the helicarrier,” you whispered, knowing you were about to get your ass handed to you for not tell Steve sooner, “He was at my place when I got home from the hospital. I don’t know why. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, Steve, and I wasn’t just about to turn him it—“

“He could have killed you,” Steve cut you off, but his voice was surprisingly calm, in a way that kind of scared you more than if he was yelling. “He just about killed me. You couldn’t have known how stable he was, he was still the Winter Soldier.”

You nodded, feeling tears filling your eyes again. God damn it. “But I just kept thinking… he’s your best friend, somewhere in there. He’s your Bucky, and he didn’t hurt me, that entire week—“

“A week?” Steve interjected, eyes going dark but his voice remaining steady. Now you were really freaked out.

Shoving your face into Steve’s chest, you felt the wetness soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t loosen his hold on you. If anything, his embrace got a bit tighter.

“He was just starting to show these little flashes of what I think he used to be, what he could be if all that programming Hydra did disappeared. We kissed, but… then he left. Said he knew we’d find him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy.”

You felt Steve let out a large sigh, and you wondered what he was thinking. You were clearly alive, so even if it was stupid and irresponsible letting Bucky stay with you, it turned out okay.

“That still doesn’t explain how you’re pregnant with his baby.”

Ah.

You chewed on your lip, pulling out of Steve’s grasp and taking a seat on the bed. He stood with his arms crossed, giving you his best no-nonsense Captain look. Here’s where that calm and collected facade was going to snap.

“Those two days in Italy, between France and Germany. He was there, waited until you left then found me. I swear, Steve, I never intended for this to—“

“Fuck,” he breathed out, and you felt your bottom lip wobble, eyes rimmed with tears once again.

“Now he’s here and he doesn’t know who I am. And I’m pregnant. And there’s no way this ends well for me, is there? I mean, fuck, I didn’t even think this was possible! It was one time! And he’s in his 90′s for Christ’s sake, not to mention the cyro--” You were practically hyperventilating at this point, hands shaking as you ran then through your hair.

Steve moved in and pulled you back into his arms, sighing in resignation. “Look, I’m pissed. And we’re going to have a serious talk about not doing dumb shit like that ever again. But… I want him back, too. And it’s already done, so— so we’re still going to be here for you. And I’m hopeful Buck can be, too.”

You sniffled, clutching on to Steve’s shirt. “He has to come back. I can’t do this without him. He promised… he wouldn’t forget.”

Steve held you until you couldn’t stand, then took you back to your room where you fell asleep and hoped you woke to a world where your Bucky remembered everything.

—-

You came back to your apartment, grateful for a reprieve from the team, and the former assassin who was currently being housed at the Tower. You took a long, hot shower, harshly scrubbing at your skin until you were as raw and broken as you felt on the inside. It didn’t wash away the pain, just made it more exposed.

Unfortunately, you knew you’d have to tell the team sooner or later, since Dr. Cho already put in the orders to Steve that you were forbidden on any missions (not that he would have allowed it, anyway). You called Natasha and Clint, the two most likely to hug you and not punch you after hearing you were carrying to child of a somewhat reformed killer that nobody even knew you had spoken to before now.

“Oh my god!” Natasha squealed, squeezing you tightly before she pulled away, hands gripping your shoulders. “This is amazing. My first niece or nephew. Already I would die for this kid, okay?”

“Same,” Clint grinned from his perch on the chair opposite where Natasha was basically cradling you in her lap. “They’re gonna have a hell of a good life, that’s for sure. Congrats.”

You could help cracking a smile. “Yeah, I know that. How could they not when they have the best aunt and uncle in the world?”

Natasha was practically vibrating, going on about looking for a new place with two bedrooms and the best place to buy baby clothes and how to limit the amount of influence Tony may have before she paused, tilting her head.

“You don’t have to tell me, but... you haven’t been seeing anyone in quite a while, at least not that I know of. Is the father... in the picture?”

The question you were dreading, the one that already had tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t keep this from them. You let out a wet laugh, shaking your head and looking down at your lap. “Uh, yeah. It’s, um. It’s Bucky.”

It was silent, before Clint cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Bucky... like Bucky Barnes? Like Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes? Like the guy we just found a few days ago?”

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore,” you mumbled, like that made the situation better. Natasha was frozen, her arms slowly loosening around you.

“Full explanation. Now.”

You told them everything you told Steve, and neither of them had any judgemental glare or even an angry glint to their eye. Natasha sat quietly, watching you very carefully while Clint stared off at the wall to your left, nodding every once in awhile.

“So... yeah. I, um. I don’t really know what to do. It’s a really fucked up situation but--”

“But we’re still going to be with you every step of the way,” Clint spoke up, meeting Natasha’s eyes before he looked back at you. “You’re not doing this alone, no matter what. We’re your family, and we’ll support you, always.”

You suddenly couldn’t see past the tears, and he was over beside Natasha in a second, the both of them wrapping their arms around you and holding you together, literally.

“Th-thank you,” you managed to get out, gripping on to both their arms. You still weren’t sure you could do this. But at least you could be unsure surrounded by your team.

---

You went to the Tower a week later, after there had been a mission everyone had been on except you. If that happened again, you’d be forced to tell them anyway, might as well get it over with.

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, talking amongst themselves as the pizzas finished cooking while Tony tinkered around with some tiny AI that would replace the earpiece comms the team currently used, when Steve squeezed your hand and cleared his throat, waiting until everyone had their attention towards him.

“There’s some news everyone should know, since it’s going to affect us all pretty soon.” He looked down at you, urging you on. You nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m, um. I’m pregnant.”

There was a split second of silence, before the kitchen erupted in happy cheers, everyone who didn’t already know coming up to give you a hug. You somehow found a genuine smile on your face, laughing. “And no, it’s not Steve’s!” you added, giving a pointed look at Tony before he could even make a joke.

After a minute the kitchen settled down, a few people circled around you talking about the new addition to the team, when you looked over and saw Bucky leaning in the doorway.

Your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t often join in with the team when they did things together, but you guessed food was an exception.

Your heart started beating quickly as he pushed off from the doorframe and slowly weaved his way through the bodies, stopping to slide a few slices of pizza on a plate before he walked past you.

“Congratulations,” he said softly, voice void of any real emotion, then he was gone.

You swallowed, vision suddenly unfocused. That... that was not how you were imagining telling the father of your child he was going to be a dad. He had no idea. There was not even a slight memory, if that reaction was any indication.

You went home and cried yourself to sleep that night.

---

Over the next two months, you kept to yourself at home, doing yoga with Nat and reading all the books you’d forgotten about and catching up on all the shows you’d been meaning to watch. You made at least four desserts a week for the team, and tried out a different recipe for supper every night.

You’d worked out a good enough argument with Steve for returning to the team after the baby was born-- yes, this life wasn’t exactly conducive for a child, but Nat and Clint were right; they would be the most protected kid in the country, and you were good enough at your job with enough superhero babysitters that you wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving for missions and never coming back. And maybe-- maybe one day they’ll have two parents to watch out for them.

Your belly was big enough now as you approached the third trimester that you were very obviously pregnant, and you only went out to the Tower a few time, afraid you’d run into Bucky. It didn’t sit right with you that you were carrying his child and he had no idea. But you knew every time you saw him, you’d just be tempted to tell him, to tell him it was his because you’d known him before and he had to come back to you, he promised he’d come back...

It was just easier to stay away.

Steve kept you updated on how he was doing; he was slowly remembering things from back when him and Steve were young, from the war. He was making progress, and there had yet to be an incident where any sign of the Winter Soldier showed up.

“You saw the files. It took them almost a decade to erase all the memories completely. It’s going to take a long time to get that back, if we can. Every little thing is a good sign, though. If we can get back part of himself from back then, chances are he’ll remember the past year a lot easier.”

You knew that. And a selfish part of you didn’t care if he remembered any of his life before they made him into a brainwashed, subhuman killing machine-- you would be fine with him remembering when he broke free, after the helicarrier, when he met you. Then you felt guilty as hell for thinking that, and spiralled from there.

The young princess from Wakanda was apparently close to figuring out a way to permanently remove the activation words from his brain, so he would never turn into the Soldier again. Then, it was just getting the all-clear from the government so he wasn’t a war criminal anymore, which the federal prosecutor was already working on, and then Steve was hopeful he might join the team.

You couldn’t blame morning sickness on why that thought made you sick. What if you had to see him every day? Raise his child in front of his eyes with him never knowing?

You shivered, going back to the red velvet cupcakes you were currently baking. You heard your phone ring from the living room, and you let out a low groan when the oven beeped at the exact same time.

“Fuck,” you hissed, resting the bowl against your belly as you slipped on your oven mitt and pulled out the first batch of cupcakes. Your phone had stopped ringing for a moment, but now it was buzzing again, someone clearly very adamant about getting in touch with you.

You placed the bowl precariously on top of two other bowls that needed to be cleaned, just realizing that your kitchen counter space was really lacking as you grabbed your phone and answered it without checking the name.

“Yeah?”

“Bucky is on his way. Tony told him to drop off your new prototype stealth suit to get you to test the fabric because if it was comfortable while pregnant than it was probably comfortable during a mission--anyway, I told him I’d do it but he said Bucky could do it, he wasn’t busy and nowBuckyisonhiswayoversorryItried--”

Natasha’s rushed warning was cut off by your doorbell, and you shut your eyes, willing yourself to anywhere but here. “Um. Ok. He’s here. Thanks for calling.”

You ended the call, steeling yourself as you headed towards the door. You had red icing on your white t-shirt and your jeans were still dirty from when you were in the garden and you might pass out when you see Bucky because all you want to do every time you see him is wrap your arms around him and hold him and--

You plastered on a relatively-normal smile, and opened the door.

“Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky looked up, and froze.

You awkwardly shifted, brows furrowed as you tried to read what was happening behind his eyes, but it looked like he wasn’t even here, he was--

He moved in and pressed a hand to the small of your back, the other coming up to cradle your head as he kissed you, hesitant and gently at first, until your brain came back online and you clutched at his back, deepening the kiss with a tilted of your head.

You distantly heard a thunk of something hitting the concrete steps, but you were too busy drinking in Bucky’s scent, the same somehow as it was in Italy, and the taste of his mouth as he devoured yours, and the feeling of his hands on your body, so gentle despite the bad they were forced to do.

You had to pull away to breath, and didn’t even realize your face was wet until the salty tears hit your lips. “Bucky, what--”

“This place. I came here, after I pulled Steve from the river...?” He started out so sure, but it ended up coming out as a question, one which you nodded too.

“Yeah, you stayed with me for a bit. I made sure you were okay, before--”

“Before I left. I had to keep you safe, weren’t safe with me around,” Bucky murmured, giving you another kiss, then another, peppering them along your cheeks and temple and jaw until your tilted your head back, moving down to your throat. “We found each other in Italy.”

Your eyes had drifted shut, positive this was a dream now. “Mhm. This you keeping your promise, Buck?”

You fully expected him not to know what that meant; but he pulled back and met your eyes, nodding. “I thought... something kept tugging at the back of my mind, with you. Like it was trying to remember, so hard. But there were no clear memories, nothing to prove I knew you before now. But this house, you standing there-- it brought it all back.”

You smiled, laughing through tears that wouldn’t stop now. “I’m going to have to thank Tony. Not something I thought I’d ever say.”

Bucky grinned, and it was that same smile he gave you that first week, while you were cleaning guns side by side and he’d kissed you. This time, you kissed him, arms wrapped around his neck and pressing yourself as close to him as you could get. You pulled him backwards into the house, letting him kick the door closed and smiling against his lips.

When you pulled away, you saw him looking downward, and your heart stopped. Shit. You’d somehow fucking forgotten in the bliss of Bucky remembering you that there was another big thing he didn’t know.

He looked up, and you could tell he was doing the math in his head, tears forming in his eyes as he whispered, “Is it mine?”

You nodded, taking his left hand and placing it on top of your bump, your own hand rest on top. “I know, I didn’t think it was possible--I should have told you, before. But, I thought it would fuck with your recovery, something this big--”

He shook his head, cupping your face with his free hand and kissing you slow and deep, smooth as honey as his tongue licking into your mouth. He pulled away with a broken laugh. “I don’t deserve this. I knew I didn’t deserve you that first week, and I know I don’t deserve you giving me a family. Are you sure you want me...?”

You sighed, lacing your fingers together on your belly and kissing him gently. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how this is going to work with two parents being Avengers, but... just promise me you’ll try. Just don’t make me do this without you, Buck.”

He met your eyes, as stormy and broken as they were that first night but there was something else in them that wasn’t there before, than you saw a flash of in Italy, but that was clear as day now.

Hope.

“I promise. As long as you both will have me, I’m yours.”

“I’ll always want this, Buck,” you whispered, resting your forehead on his. “Whoever you were before, whoever you are now, whoever you’re going to be-- I want you.”

Suddenly you were in his arms, legs around his waist as he leaned up to kiss you, this time frantic and messy and with a growl that made arousal pool between your legs. “I think my memory of Italy is still a bit spotty... might have to show me again how we conceived this one.”

You moaned against his lips, a needy gasp at the back of your throat as he carried you to the bedroom (the layout of your home was clearly not forgotten) before he carefully laid you out on the bed.

“Barnes, you are terrible.”

“Hey, I had my memory forceable taken from me for seven decades, give me a break.”

You pulled away from where you were sucking a mark onto his neck, ignoring his smirk. “Okay, you only get so many of those before it’s not funny anymore. Use them wisely.”

#phewww finally done #heheh #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x you

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