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theflowerofthecommonwealth · 1 year

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Power Armor Punch Part Forty Six

Nick: *smiles at her singing*

Jasmine: (Scrunches her hair over the sink after washing to remove any extra water and to give bounce to her locks) “Any little single dingle that sets the tone’s a tingle. Is welcome when you mingle. In any single song….” (Starts working on cleaning herself, the icy cold water soothing her fever but stinging her cuts. She mostly keeps her eyes shut, she can’t stand the sight of herself) “Keep a little song handy, wherever you go. And nothing can ever go, Boop-Doopy-Doopy-Doo! Boop-Oopy-Doo! Bop!” (Again hits the final notes perfectly as she pats down her face to finish off and brushes her teeth. Now comes the task she’s been dreading and putting off…)

Nick: *found himself tapping his feet to the tune with a smile. He doesn’t think she’s sung in quite a while, but he does enjoy hearing her sing* You sounded good!

Jasmine: (Blinks slowly as she tries to process the compliment he gave her, starting off with registering it as genuine first. He’s her Dad, of course he means it) “Thank you…” (Debates herself for a moment about asking for help, her hand picking at her wrists nervously while she stares at her reflection. It’s not good that keeps needing assistance, what if she gets separated from Nick? Will her survival instincts be strong enough that she can push past the trauma? It’s done an okay job so far…)

Nick: *senses she’s hesitating on asking* I know I won’t always be there to help you, but I’m here now. If you need assistance, just say so.

Jasmine: (Glance back, sighing to herself when she sees the little drops of blood she already drew. Even if she doesn’t want help, she’s hurting herself so she has to ask) (Quietly) “Can you help me please, Dad?” (Turns to the mirror, staring at her reflection with slight disgust as she toys with her hair to keep her hands busy. She just wants to get out of here already…)

Nick: Sure thing. *walks in and pulls down a rag and dowses it with antiseptic. He takes an arm starts dabbing the infected cuts with the rag carefully while humming “The Gambler” softly*

Jasmine: (Tilts her head at herself, sucking in a pained breath at the stinging while she closely examines her own face. She rarely lets herself get a good look in the mirror, so her own face sometimes surprises/scares her. She’s less pale and hollow than last time she checked, her eyes are brighter and not so sunken in. Her lips aren’t discolored and cracked, her cheeks have the slight rosy blush back to them. She still has the signs of malnutrition, she can see it on her ribs and sides the most)

Nick: *rinses out the rag and resaturates it for another pass on the arm he’s working on* I wonder if that salve Teshteal has will help with this…

Jasmine: (Overall she thinks she looks healthier than she did before she met Nick, her appearance no longer resembles a haunted doll as much as it did. Yeah she’s covered in cuts and bruises, and the stitches are still visible, but the wounds are well cared for and healing, unlike the terribly neglected ones she always had. Still, she hates her own reflection and would rather not stare at it for too long, so she looks away)

Nick: Too bad he’s not here with it-

Teshteal: *from the hall, sniffing. Sounds concerned* I smell infection…

Nick: *immediately standing in front of Jas to protect her, arms spread out* When did you- wait- why are you sopping wet?

Teshteal: *gets on all fours and shakes himself dry like a dog* I swam in the water treatment area. Not the cleanest place, but I guess that’s why they have a giant water purifier in it. *pulls out the Salve and hands it to Nick* I’m guessing you’re going to need this.

Nick: *takes it* Thank you-

Teshteal: *already looking around the room, checking everything out but the bathroom* This is a rather big place for an Agency.

Nick: It’s a big vault.

Teshteal: That it is… *goes upstairs to the loft and the office area*

Jasmine: (Yelps when Teshteal suddenly appears, protectively shielding herself with her arms and making herself small behind Nick while her heart pounds and her head screams. She hates being snuck up on, even worse when she’s only in boy shorts and a sports bra which makes her feel incredibly vulnerable. Doesn’t help that she’s still woozy and confused from earlier)

Nick: *turns to Jas again when he’s gone upstairs. Softly* I think he’s just exploring the place, kiddo. Now let’s get those cuts disinfected. *opens the jar and starts gently applying salve to her arm, then starts the cleaning process all over again on the other arm*

Jasmine: (Whimpers at how much it stings, it hurting more than it should. Her senses on everything are just everywhere at the moment, probably due to her chem addiction. Things are either too much or too little, no comfortable or balanced in-between. She grabs onto Nicks coat with her free hand for comfort, staring at him with teary childlike eyes)

Nick: *gentle smile as he carefully gives her other arm a second pass with the antiseptic and adds the salve. Next is the wounds on her sides, but he takes the time to wrap her arms first, making sure that they’re well bandaged. He starts humming “We’ll Meet Again” by Vera Lynn softly to help her feel a little more at ease*

Jasmine: (It’s been a long damn time since someone has been so tender and gentle with her as Nick has been for the past few days, it’s adding to her tears. It’s also adding fuel to the “you don’t deserve kindness” and “you’re a monsters” voices, but she can shove them away for now to enjoy his singing. She does her best to stay still, but she flinches and cries out whenever it stings, clutching her Dads coat tighter)

Nick: *he grabs a fresh rag and slowly gets on his knees to get a better look at the wounds on her sides. He decides to double of up on the antiseptic and salve there. He keeps humming sweetly to her, being extra careful not to apply too much antiseptic at once*

Jasmine: (Leans on the sink with her arms propped behind her to help keep herself still and so they aren’t in Nicks way. She closes her eyes as some tears go down her cheeks, trusting him completely to touch her when she’d normally push back like how she did with Ellie. It’s breaks her programming, but she doesn’t care in his case) (Quietly) “It hurts….”

Nick: *hushed apologetically* I know… I know… *does a couple more passes*

Jasmine: (Squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as she can, gripping the sink until her knuckles go white and she lets go) (Signing) “Not sure it’s suppose to hurt so much. Is the infection bad, or am I just stupid?”

Nick: *grimly* Considering some of the pus has flecks of black in it, yes. I’d say so. *another pass after dousing the rag again. That’s the third one* I’m sorry, doll. I shoulda caught this sooner and now look at ya… burning up with a fever. *heavy disappointed sigh at himself as he dabs the last pass of antiseptic before going to the other set of cuts with the freshly soaked rag*

Jasmine: (Shakes her head when she hears that) (Signing) “I made the cuts with a dirty knife, I didn’t clean them properly, I didn’t check them for an infection later… I took chems that weakens my immune system. It’s my fault, not yours.” (Wipes her forehead that’s getting sweaty again, feeling dizzy again. She’s half tempted to run the cold water over herself again)

Nick: *frowns at that as he makes another pass* I’m supposed to look out for you. That’s what parents are supposed to do for their kids- make sure they’re safe. *hand trembles with slight frustration at himself as he makes the third pass* I haven’t been doing a good job as of late.

Jasmine: (Just kinda blinks with confusion, leaning back on the sink to keep herself up) (Softly) “I think you’re doing wonderful. You’re still here with me, right? You aren’t leaving me alone….” (Looks down at her feet with a whimper, remembering what happened back at her house, and when she was born. It’s making her head hurt even more and her heart beat faster)

Nick: Yes. That’s true, but that’s the bare minimum any parent can do. *final pass and then the salve* I want to make sure you’re safe. You’re healthy. *as he starts wrapping the bandages around her midsection* You’re loved and cared for…

Jasmine: (Blinks slowly when she hears that, malfunctioning due to her programming telling her that she deserves the complete opposite, yet she knows Nick will never lie to her about that so that fights against her programming)

Nick: *goes back to quietly bandaging her and soon finishes it up, standing up and helping her put back on her clothes*

Jasmine: (Is still burning with her fever, but she likes to be covered up as much as possible unless she has a blanket over herself. She removes her hands from the sink and turns around, catching her dreaded reflection in the mirror and she freezes in place. She just stares for a long time with wide eyes, eventually turning to hide her face in Nicks coat) (Quietly mumbling) “I don’t like her.” (Points accusingly to her reflection like she’s pointing out a bully to Nick on the playground)

Nick: *catches his reflection as well and smirks before glancing down at her* That’s okay, doll… don’t much like the looks of the other guy, either. Let’s just ignore them both and head to bed, hmm? *starts leading her out of the bathroom so she won’t see herself in the mirror anymore*

Jasmine: (Clings to him as they leave the bathroom, trembling while she walks with her steps misaligned) “I do not want to go back to bed.”

Nick: *stops, softly with concern* Why is that, Rosie?

Jasmine: (Looks down at her feet, wondering to herself if she should tell him about the phantom pain that’s adding to her fear of sitting around, especially in a bed. But that would only worry him more, and he can’t do anything about it) (Quietly) “I never like going to bed.”

Nick: Would it help if I’m there with you…? And if you changed into something lighter?

Jasmine: (Toys with some of her curls that are over her shoulders, giving a hesitant nod. Dad being nearby always gives her a sense of security, but she does worry that he’ll sense something is wrong other than what is established, if he hadn’t picked up on it already. And as much as she hates wearing light clothes, he’ll be there to protect her from harm)

Nick: Alright then. *pats and rubs her shoulder as he leads her back to bed* Lets get some rest…

Jasmine: (Follows along while holding his arm, trying to only think of putting one foot ahead of the other)

Nick: *very carefully and slowly walking down the stairs with her so she doesn’t fall* That’s it… nice and slow, kiddo.

Jasmine: (Her knees feel weak and shes sore from the phantom pain but she keeps upright the entire way there)

Nick: Now let’s get you changed. *helps her out of the layers of hot stuffy clothes and into her much lighter and cooler dress*

Jasmine: (Breathes a sigh of relief when the coolness of the air hits her skin. Her dress is a soft pink one she found and altered to fit her frame better, its adorable on her)

Nick: Now, doesn’t that feel better…?

Jasmine: (Runs her hands over the poodle patterned skirt piece, giving him a nod while she tosses her hair back)

Nick: *smiles warmly at his little girl* You look absolutely adorable, Rosie. *sighs* But it’s time to go to bed- rest off that fever- *remembers the water he brought her* Before that, you want a sip of water? Might help you feel cooler. *Bends down and picks up the can*

Jasmine: (Stares at the can of water, nodding again after a moment of thinking. She sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching into her bag to pull out Winnie. She holds the stuffed bear close to her face, smiling a little behind it because Nick called her adorable)

Nick: *cracks open the can and hands it to her, happy to see she’s feeling a little better*

Jasmine: (Takes the can and peers inside, slowly sipping it down after taking a deep breath. The coolness of the water helps soothe her body that decided to try and burn itself alive. She shuts her eyes and manages to drink the entire thing without even gagging or coughing)

Nick: *after she downs the whole thing* Doing good. Proud of you, kiddo… *takes the can and sets it aside* Now, time for bed…

Jasmine: (Frowns and looks at the bed she’s sitting on for a long moment, hiding back behind Winnie while shaking her head and crossing her legs. Just sitting on it is making her nervous)

Nick: Come on, Rosie… I promise I won’t let anything get you. *sits next to her* I’ll be right here the entire time you’re asleep.

Jasmine: (Raises her head and stares at her Dad with teary eyes. She sets down Winnie in her lap and holds her arms out to him, grabbing midair like a little child with a whimper)

Nick: *holds her and takes the opportunity to lay down so she has to as well. He grabs Winnie and tucks the bear in her arms for extra comfort*

Jasmine: (Sets Winnie aside, wrapping her arms around her Dad and carefully leans up to kiss his cheek, snuggling close to his chest with her head under his chin while humming a sweet note in content)

Nick: *softly at the kiss* Oh- *smiles warmly at his daughter all snuggled up against him and starts humming that lullaby her mom sang to her*

Jasmine: (Giggles softly and cutely when she hears him hum the precious and familiar lullaby, having faintly heard him hum it a couple of times but she assumed it was part of her dream. She curls up as close as she can to Nick with another sweet hum, closing her eyes as he starts to lull her to sleep)

Nick: *hums it until she’s completely asleep then puts himself into diagnostic mode, just for maintenance this time around*

Jasmine: (Sleeping like a sweet angel child, one could never guess how much of a brutal, tormented killer she could be by looking at her. She just looks like a innocently sweet kid having a rest nestled close with Dad)

Nick: *comes out of diagnostic mode a few hours later and smiles down at the girl just now stirring awake in his arms* How are you feeling now, kitten?

Jasmine: (Yawns cutely, almost exactly like how a little kitten does. She blinks the sleep from her eyes, humming to respond as she cuddles closer)

Nick: *huffs sweetly and rubs her back* Take all the time you need to rest, sweetheart.

Jasmine: (Takes in a deep breath while she just lets herself get wrapped into the sweet safety of the moment)

Nick: *hums softly, holding her close* Love ya, kiddo.

Jasmine: (Pulls back for a moment to beam up at him with sparkling eyes and a gentle, beautiful smile) “I love you too, Daddy.” (Returns to nestling close to Nick with Winnie in between them, tightening her hug on him as she closes her eyes to allow herself to enjoy this cuddle time)

Nick: *can’t help but smile proudly at her. Can’t understand how anyone could hurt someone as sweet as her*

Teshteal: *laying on his back on the couch upstairs in the main agency area, clutching his sloth as he thinks about life and the people he never got to know…*

Jasmine: (Let’s a few peaceful minutes skip by with her head pressed against Nicks chest before she opens her eyes and blinks. She shuffles ever so slightly so she’s still cuddled snuggly against him, but can now see his face and he can see her sparkling childlike eyes) (Quietly) “What now…?”

Nick: Well that depends on you, doll. *concerned frown* How’s your fever? Do you feel well rested? *small comforting smile* Or do you just want to cuddle with your dear old detective dad some more? *light but sincere chuckle*

Jasmine: (Blinks at him while she thinks it over, then giggles and leans up to kiss her Dads cheek again with a warmhearted smile, cozying up to his comforting embrace with her head buried in his coat and her arms clutching him tighter)

Nick: *chuckles again at the sign of affection. He takes a moment to appreciate such a warm smile from her, especially after all she’s been through. Softly* Absolutely adorable…

Teshteal: *regretting not getting the others out of there. Badly. Wonders if anybody made it out*

Jasmine: (Giggles cutely again when she hears him say that, taking in a deep breath while she listens to the familiar sound of his inner machinery whirl and hum. The pain is all muffled out by the tenderness of this moment, a better blissful relief than the Chems can bring her)

Nick: *his inner workings move like clockwork, pistons clicking in time with his coolant pump gurgling as it pumps fluid through his pipes*

Teshteal: *If anyone did make it out, he hopes they got as lucky as Jas… he blinks slowly at the ceiling. Whispers softly* Please be okay… we can’t be the only two from the vault…

Jasmine: (Closes her eyes so she can focus better, her arms moving up to wrap around Nicks neck and shoulders while she hides in the crook of his neck. She doesn’t want to leave or move, although she has to at some point or another)

Nick: *not in a rush… there’s a steady hum of electricity and the subtle shifting and clicking of magnetic platters one can only hear when they’re this close to him. Sounds just like an old terminal, one cooled by water and fans*

Teshteal: *hopes they eventually found someone like Nick- to pull them out of the nightmares, the torment, the fear and anguish that place plunged them into*

Jasmine: (Hums a sweet note of content and opens her eyes, noticing the wiring in his neck and the missing patches of frayed synthetic skin he has. She honestly forgets that her Dad a synth sometimes, not that it ever mattered to her or ever will matter)

Nick: *if she looks close enough she can see where Ellie soldered in the wires from the fight near Diamond City. Sarcastically* Admiring the Great Green Jewel’s handiwork? *referring to the damage in his casing and skin*

Jasmine: (Raises her head and blinks with confusion, her head tilting to one side like a curious kitten who doesn’t understand)

Nick: *tilts his head up* Some of this damage came from being Diamond City’s handyman before the detective work. *soft smile*

Lucille: *helping Curie with patients*

Curie: So will you be leaving again soon?

Lucille: I don’t know… I just might stay.

Curie: Oh?

Lucille: … *looks away*

Curie: *concerned frown*

Jasmine: (Slowly blinks at the wear and tear on her Dads casing, then glances at her bandaged arms in comparison. As of right now, she’s covered in cuts and blemishes, but soon those will all fade until her skin is smooth and flawless. Not like Nick, once he gets damaged he has to physically repair himself or just let it be, and she’s not even like other people. Most would get horrible scars from all she went through, yet she doesn’t have a single marking from before now)

Nick: You don’t get to live 150 years without accruing one or two scars, I guess.

Lucille: Let’s just say Nick and Jas would be better off if I wasn’t there to drag them down…

Jasmine: (Gestures over herself with her hand) (Quietly) “I do not have a single scar, I’m over two hundred years old. Even when I was really young, I never got scarring from playing outside.”

@lucilleandherrobots

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #nick valentine #fallout OC #fallout original character #Fallout rp #fallout roleplay

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bteezxyewriter12 · 2 years

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Save Me/ 15

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 2k

Includes- Sort of PTSD, anxiety, Reader is scared to leave the hospital, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxmine

@delightfulmoonbanana

@tannie13 @yeosayang @itstyraaxx

@borntowalkaway

DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!!

Series Masterlist

J POV

After a month in the hospital, I'm finally being discharged

Today

I don't want to be

I'm terrified of leaving

I'm safe here

I'm not safe out there

We're not going back to our apartment

While I was here, Yoongi looked online for an apartment

He refuses to leave me, so he did everything online and with BTS' lawyers, he bought us a new apartment

Last week when I told him to take some money from my account to help pay for it, he refused and looked at me like I was insane

"No way Jo. I don't need your money. We're fine"

"Yoongi c'mon. I can't let you pay for that", I argued

The doctors removed the wiring for my jaw that week so I could talk now

As of today it still hurts to move but not as bad as it was before

"Baby stop. I make enough money for us."

"That's not the point Yoongi. I'm not a moocher"

He laughed

"I know that Jo. I never saw you as that. I know you have your own money and that you make enough to live on. But I want to take care of you in all ways. It's not a big deal", he responded

"But-", I started

"Look I'll handle all this stuff ok and you can save your money for the baby. I know you're going to spoil him and you can use your money for him", he smiled

He's not wrong

I am going to want to spoil the baby

"Fine", I said, even though I'm not happy about it, "But I'm going to help you pay for the bills for the new apartment"

"Joanne..."

"Nope Yoongi. It'll be just like it was in the old apartment when I gave you money for the bills."

"But you weren't pregnant then!"

"Doesn't matter Yoongi. Take it or leave it"

He rolled his eyes, "Fine you impossible woman!"

I smiled sweetly at him, "Thanks naekkeo"

"Yeah yeah"

He leaned over and kissed me, then went back to whatever he was doing on his laptop

But now that the day has actually come that I have to leave the hospital I'm terrified

Han-jae hasn't been caught but Maggie and Glenn say they're close to getting him

The doctors gave me instructions on what to do out of the hospital

I still have to go to physical therapy three times a week for awhile

I have to come back here every two weeks so they can check the baby and make sure everything is ok

I obviously have a high risk pregnancy and they want to maintain a watchful eye

I'm just glad they care so much

I have to eat more now that I can eat solid food, for the baby

Most of the stitches healed and they took out the staples from the wounds but they still told me to be careful

I'm still in pain when I move, and the pain is worse at night and especially after physical therapy but there's nothing I can do about it without risking the baby

And no way am I going to do that

So I just deal with it as best I can

Yoongi is helping me get dressed because I still can't do that on my own yet

I can't move my arms up and back yet

I feel bad because Yoongi still has to help me do some things

My leg still isn't that strong so he has to help me walk when I get tired and can't walk on my own any farther

He still has to help me shower because I can't reach to wash my hair

He never complains and always smiles while he's helping me.

I refuse to let him help me go to the bathroom so I just suck it up and deal with the pain when I have to go

He shouldn't have to do this

He should be on tour with BTS and having fun, not taking care of me

Not stuck here with me

But he refuses to hear anything about it and gets mad at me for even suggesting that he should be anywhere away from me

I don't want to upset him so I stopped talking about it

After he gets my shirt on he tells me to sit

He starts to brush my hair and braid it

He knows how to braid now, just a simple regular braid and a fishtail but still, he learned for me

Ever since I joked about him learning he actually did learn

I remember the day he told me he was going to try

I was sitting just like I am now with him behind me

He pulled up a video on YouTube and watched it

Then he replayed it while trying to follow along and braid my hair

He messed up a few times and got annoyed but he kept replaying the video and tried again

He finally got it even though it was messy

But he insisted on braiding my hair everyday

Now he's a pro at it and it takes him less than a minute to do

After learning the regular braid he asked me what my favorite braid was

When I said fishtail, he looked it up and practiced on me until he got that one too

He's also gotten really good at ponytails

"Ok done baby"

He leans over and kisses my cheek

"Thanks Yoongi"

"You know since I'm so good at braiding I should learn some of the more complicated ones."

I chuckle at that

"It's ok Yoongi, you don't have to."

"But you know how to do it. I remember you coming to work with all those complicated braids and I always wondered how you did them"

"I'm a girl Yoongi, with long hair so of course I know how to do complicated braids. There was never a reason for you to learn. Besides I also learned the hard ones from YouTube too.", I respond

"Well I want to try"

He's so sweet

"Ok Yoongi, I'm not going to stop you"

"Good, because I need your hair"

We both laugh

There's a knock on the door and a nurse comes in

"Are you ready?", she asks

Not at all but I can't say that

I don't want to make Yoongi worry

So I say yes

I sign all the paperwork and we leave

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

Stepping outside the hospital is nerve wracking

I want to throw up

But I hold Yoongi's hand and force myself to leave

My eyes dart all over looking for any danger, looking for him

He has to know I'm alive with all the coverage on Yoongi and my relationship

A car came from BigHit to get us

Yoongi helps me inside and he climbs in next to me.

I stare out the window as we drive, trying not to panic

Yoongi has his arm around me and that makes me feel a bit better, a bit safer

I'm not paying attention when the car stops moving

"Jo", Yoongi calls touching my arm

I jump at the sudden contact and fear takes over

"Baby, it's ok. It's me"

I don't realize my body is shaking until Yoongi pulls me to him

"It's ok jagi. Don't be afraid. I'm here."

He holds me, rubbing my back until I stop shaking

"We're here baby. At the apartment. You wanna go inside?"

I nod

Yes

I want to go inside

Where it's safe

I'm too exposed out here

Yoongi helps me out of the car and we walk inside the building

Our apartment is the entire fifth floor

The elevator to get there is a private one and only opens to mine and Yoongi's hand print

The elevator is the only way to our apartment aside from a flight of stairs that also needs our hand prints to access

The elevator opens into a small hallway with a door to enter the apartment.

When I walk in, my mouth drops open as I gape

It's huge

So much bigger than our last one

Yoongi hired private movers to bring our stuff from the old apartment to this one and he also bought new things too

The living room is the room you walk into from the door and it's big

There's a huge tv on the wall, two full couches, a coffee table and two side tables

On either side and under the tv are shelves with our movies and games

All our video game systems are on the shelf under the tv

The kitchen is off to the side and is big as well

There's also a dining room past the kitchen with a huge table and chairs

"Yoongi...this is..", I stop

I'm at a loss for words

"Come on jagi, I'll show you the rest

He takes me down a hallway that's lined with doors

He opens the first door and I see a huge room with all his equipment

"This is going to be my studio. I brought everything here so I can work from home like before"

He opens the next room and I gasp

"Yoongi, you.."

"It's for you baby."

It's a huge room

One side is filled with bookcases, my books, a small table and a recliner, the other all my make up and a huge vanity with a wall mirror and lights all around it

"I thought this could be your library and make up room. I uh didn't know if you wanted them together or separate but since the room is so big, I just put them together. We have more spare rooms so if you want them to be separate we can do that too", he explains

I turn to him and hug him, pulling him tightly to me

I don't know what I did to deserve such a wonderful and caring man but I'm so glad I have him

"Thank you Yoongi, it's perfect the way it is. I love it"

"I'm happy you like it jagi", he murmurs in my hair, "Let me show you the rest"

There's more?

The next door is a big bathroom

There are two extra rooms too

"I thought we can figure out what to do with these as time goes on because I don't know what to do with them now", he says

"Ok", I agree

He opens the door at the end of the hallway and takes me in

It's our bedroom

Our bed is in the center with nightstands on either side

There's a tv on the wall opposite the bed

To the side is a huge walk in closet with both our clothes in it

On the other side of the room is a door leading to a huge bathroom

I stare in awe

He must have spent so much money on this

I can't believe it

"There's one more thing I wanna show you."

He leads me to the room right next to our bedroom

We go in

It's bare

"Uh I thought this could be the baby's room since it's right next to ours. I didn't want to do anything to it, because I thought we could decorate it and pick the furniture together."

I can't help it, I start to cry

He's the best man in the world

"Jagi? What's wrong? Did I do something?", he asks alarmed

"No Yoongi. I'm just so happy. You're the best and I'm so lucky to have you.", I cry

I reach out for him and he takes me in his arms

"No Jo, you're the best. This is the least I could do for everything you've done for me. You did everything to keep me safe, you almost died twice for me. I could never repay you for that. It's my turn now to keep you safe and take care of you. I promise I will"

"I love you Yoongi. So much"

"I love you Joanne. You're everything to me"

We stand there hugging each other for awhile until Yoongi asks, "Are you tired? Do you want to sleep? Or we could watch something? Whatever you want to do baby"

I don't want to sleep yet

"Uh let's go watch something. I'm not sleepy yet."

He nods and we go to the living room

#save me #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bts yoongi fic #bts yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #bts suga fic #bts suga fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #btsfanfiction

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buckyhoney · 2 years

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𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this scenario would not leave my mind- also shockingly this is over 1.5k!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: frank castle x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤/𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, cleaning wounds, unprotected sex, fingering, passionate sex, light breeding kink, light oral (f), unedited sorry for any missed typos!

"What the hell happened to you!" The blood-stained and bruised man stands in your doorway.

You quickly pull him inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. Frank limps towards the bar stools in the kitchen. The first aid kit is still laid out on the counter from last night's patch-up.

A faint groan sneaks past his lips as Frank sits down, finally being able to take a full breath.

"Nothing for you to worry about; you just need a few band-aids." Frank moves his hand away from his waist, revealing the gash dripping with blood.

Quickly you gather your dish towels and all the paper towels you can. They were not ideal, but the hospital wasn't an option since you had to be discreet. You remove your sweatshirt, not wanting to dirty it or the sleeves to get in the way.

Laying the full-sized towels on the floor underneath to catch the dripping blood, you hand him the dish towels. Frank begins to hold the cloth against the gash. You prep the area by washing your hands and grabbing the gloves from your kit.

"Wanna tell me why you busted the stitches from yesterday?" You mutter, applying alcohol to the wound.

Frank curses underneath his breath before shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe I wanted to see you again," You laugh sarcastically.

"That so?" Playing along, you clean around the wound with a large cotton swab.

"Yeah." Frank smiles as you look up at him before shaking your head.

There are times where you regret offering help to the limping man you saw walking home a few months ago. It landed you in risky situations, but you're thankful you did- or else you wouldn't have met him.

Dressing his wounds and cleaning off the blood is practice for when you're put on the trauma unit at the hospital- and you have a lot of practice.

"This isn't going to heal very pretty; it's gonna scare pretty bad." Concentrating, you mumble.

"It'll match the other ones." Frank winces as you begin to restitch the gash.

Frank watches at how intently you're working on the wound. He didn't mean to bust the stitches, but it wasn't his priority in the fight. He appreciates how patient you are with him, how much you care for him. It isn't very often he finds someone he can let his guard down with- or as much as he could let them.

"This one is done. Please try to let it heal before you get stabbed again?" Standing up, you reach for the washcloth and dunk it in the bowl of water.

Ringing out the access water, you press it to his forehead and cheek. Somehow you slipped between his legs. His hands fell to your waist like they were meant to be there. You don't say anything; you like how well they fit.

You could feel his eyes burning through you, watching your every move. Dragging it down to his lips and chin, you clean off the blood. Frank wants to lean forward but stops himself.

Looking down, your eyes catch each other. His mouth is fully cleaned, your eyes drop to his lips.

Frank pleaded with you in his head that you'd lean in-, but you didn't.

"I think it's better to clean the rest off in the bathroom." You clear your throat, pulling away from his body.

Frank swallows hard and nods.

Once in the bathroom, you start the shower. Frank walks in after you, stripped down to his briefs. His top half is caked in blood and dirt. Whatever he had come from, it wasn't good- and you didn't plan on asking about it.

Frank steps in with his briefs still on, knowing you'd need to help address the wounds on his back.

The room was silent, but you could cut the tension with a knife. The water hits his skin, and he winces once more. Soon the blood and dirt begin to disappear from his skin. The minor scratches and bruises start to show through. Nothing major, so you assume the blood he was wearing was someone else's.

Stepping inside the tub, you examine his back. When he turns around, your eyes meet once more. This time they don't leave/

The two of you give in to the tension, and the silent pleads.

His hands cup the sides of your face, and your fingers wrap around his wrists. Your lips meet each other, and you're pulled under the water.

You sneak your arms under his and around his neck, his arms loop under your legs- hoisting you up and pressing you against the shower wall. You're careful your legs don't hit the stitches.

Frank's palms slide up your shirt, lifting and removing it. Your bralette is soaked through, and you can see the outline of your pebbled nipples. Frank's lips drag from your jawline down your neck and onto your chest.

"Frank-" He pulls his lips off of you the moment his name leaves your lips.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask softly.

He nods. He had never been so sure about anything.

"I promise." He replies.

Nodding back, his lips found yours again.

Your front is resting just above his crotch, but you can feel his hard-on underneath you. An unexpected moan falls from Frank's lips once you start to grind against him. Frank holds you up from your thighs, carrying you out of the shower (not daring to break from your mouth to shut the water off).

Completely soaked, Frank drops you onto the bed. While he's taking off his briefs, you do other same and remove your shorts and underwear. He stares at you for a moment, taking in the sight of your bare lower half. The gaze breaks as he hears your bra drop off the side of the bed. His eyes travel to your breasts, groaning as he watches them move as you sit up.

Frank lays you back down as he lays on his side. His lips are attached to your neck as his rough palms travel down your body. They're taking mapping every inch of you, feeling everything they could. You whine as his thumb grazes the top of your cunt. The ache became louder, and you swear he could feel it.

"Please, Frank- I need you," The words came out more desperate than you wished them, but it was true.

The arousal had pooled and coated your folds and stuck to the inside of your thighs. The plea encouraged him to spread your thighs apart, your leg hooking over top of his. He moaned into your mouth as his fingers dipped inside your sopping folds.

"I haven't even done anything yet," He chuckles, and you gasp.

Two fingers enter inside you, and you jerk your hips upward. Frank's other arm is underneath your head, and his fingers are interlocked with yours. This type of intimacy is one that you haven't experienced before, being so close and connected everywhere you could. Frank's fingers are slow but steady, his thumb grazing your clit.

You roll your hips into his fingers, wanting more.

"Keep going, sweetheart." He mumbled against your lips.

There wasn't a point in trying to conceal your sounds, so you let the small soft whimpers and the tiny whines escape you. Frank became addicted to them, pushing you closer and closer, wanting you to get louder and louder.

Each curl of his fingers hit your g spot, teasing your orgasm. The pleasure grew more intense, and fog covered your brain.

Clenching around his fingers, Frank increased his speed. His thumb toying with your sensitive nerve.

"Frank, I- please, can I cum?" Sinking into submission, you ask through a whimper.

Frank chuckles and grants you permission.

Your hips buck and jerk against his hand as you cum around his fingers. Frank's in your ear, whispering all sorts of praises as your climb down from your high.

Holding his fingers still before he brings them to his lips- tasting your arousal. He hums at the taste, knowing he had to get it from the source.

Releasing your hand, he shuffles down so that he's eye to eye with your greedy cunt.

"M'senstive, please- Fuck!" Frank cleans up all the arousal, craving more of you.

He hovers over your body, that's still recovering, and places your legs on each side of him. He drags the tip of his cock up and down your folds, spending extra time on your clit.

"Fuck, baby-" Frank moans as he pushes himself inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut, your hips dig into the mattress, and your back arches. He fills your cunt, and your body warms. Frank leans down, kissing you once more, not breaking as he begins to thrust.

Each stroke is deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Once you're more adjusted, he goes faster- rougher than the moments before. His lips are still against yours; every so often, they drag to your jaw. Frank cups the side of your face; his eyes meet yours before kissing you again.

He was kissing you like it was the first time he had ever done it, passionately and with so much desire.

Your nails claw at his back, but he winces as you create new wounds.

"S'close- fuck!" You mumble against his lips; you know he's close too- his cock twitches inside you.

"Cum for me, sweetheart- please," He whines into your mouth.

You pulsate around him, cumming hard. Frank curses under his breath; you feel his cum spill inside you. You grind slowly against him, wanting every last bit of his cum.

Frank thrusts one last time before slowly pulling out of you. The both of you are panting next to each other, barely able to form words.

You turn to your side, facing him. Frank does the same, but this time he pushes the fallen pieces of hair out of your face- studying your expression.

"I think you might have a few more cuts on your back," You mumble, feeling the heat spread to your cheeks.

"Eh, It'll match the rest of 'em." He smirks.

2K notes · View notes

scumbagg · 3 years

Text

NSFT/18+

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

A/N: I purely wrote this as Bell instead of Y/N since I can’t bring myself to write Y/N fics 😂

I recently finished MW2 and needed some Ghost food to heal my broken heart after the traumatic betrayal I witnessed. Also maybe a bit of DadPrice! giving a lecture. Here goes nothing..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Bell

Word count: 3252

Warnings: smut, injury (gunshot), blood, swearing.

“Eyes up, scouts patrolling up ahead.”

Price’s voice in your earpiece came through at the exact moment the two men appeared in your line of vision 40 metres in front of you.

“Dropped him.”

Aiming your sniper, the guard trailing slightly behind fell to the ground before you’d even had time to place your finger on the trigger. Taking aim at the other man’s head, your rifle made almost no sound as you took him out a second later.

“Nice shot. Move up.”

“Thanks.” You whispered back. You turned back for a moment to the place you knew Price was laying hidden almost 90 metres behind you.

“Move, Bell. We won’t have much time before more patrols come along and find those bodies.” Soap’s whispered voice now, also in your earpiece - but you knew he was somewhere to the right of you hidden in the long grass. You crawled quietly through the grass. You heard the brush whispering slightly either side of you as the bodies of Soap and Ghost moved up to flank with you.

“Hold up, two more tangoes patrolling the fence line.” Price murmured a moment later. “Take ‘em out, or let ‘em move on. Your call Bell”

“No stragglers.” You whispered back. You heard the pops from Ghost’s and Soap’s suppressed guns as they took out the two guards ahead.

“Good call.” Price confirmed. “Can’t see anymore inbound. You’re in the clear. House up ahead is empty. We’ll regroup inside.”

“Roger.”

Standing up, you scanned the area out of precaution for more enemies. Satisfied, you nodded to the other two men to move up. The three of you passed the fence line and had almost made it to the back door of the house when it happened.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of a pistol being fired in your direction had you spinning to face the direction it came from, when suddenly you felt white hot pain erupt in your left shoulder. Dropping to the ground, the sound was over almost as quickly as it started, but your eyesight went black as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain and gripped your shoulder as blood poured through your fingers.

“Bell!” The scream came from within your earpiece at the same time Ghost shouted your name, making your ear throb in pain. You hardly noticed with the burning coming from your shoulder, but you still flinched.

“What the fuck was that?!” You gritted through your teeth.

“One of the guards back there wasn’t as dead as we thought. He fucking is now. Don’t worry darlin’, you’re gonna be alright.” Ghost pried your hand away from your shoulder and replace them with his own. “Soap, get me the medi-kit from your pack, quick!”

“Darlin’?!” Soap laughed as he handed Ghost the pack. Frowning, he looked down at the two of you.

“He’s taking the piss.. it’s an inside joke.. had to be there.” You said through gritted teeth, glaring into Ghost’s glasses. Ghost said nothing as he worked on stopping the bleeding, but the minimal supplies in the kit weren’t doing much.

“Fuck!” Ghost said in a panicked voice. You were starting to feel drowsy, and the sight of all the blood was making you queasy. You could feel your head starting to spin, threatening to send you into unconsciousness.

“Ghost, she’s gonna be fine. Look, the bullet went straight through.” Soap said calmly, pointing at the bullet lodged in the brick in the wall just behind where you’d been standing. “It’s a clean wound, it’ll just need stitches.”

“Fine. We’ve gotta get her back ASAP. I’ll take her, you and Price grab the intel.”

“No, I’ll take her.” Price came into view, rifle slung over his back. “You’re the one that’s better with technology, you’ll get the intel quicker from the computer. Someone’s bound to have heard those gunshots, we’re sure to have company soon. C’mon Bell.” Price hoisted you up under your uninjured arm, replacing Ghost’s hands with one of his. Stumbling, you gripped Price’s arm for support. Looking over at Ghost, you noticed his eyes tighten behind his sunglasses, but he nodded in assent.

“Let’s get moving,” Price commanded, nodding at the other two. “Soap, Ghost, I’ll send for another chopper to pick you up. See you boys at home.”

*****

Fourteen stitches and a bandaged shoulder later, the infirmary staff finally let you leave. Pushing open the exit door to the outside, you found Price leaning against a jeep waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked suspiciously.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home. It’s a bit of a far walk and I assumed you’d be too hopped up on pain killers to drive yourself.” He replied, opening the passenger door courteously.

“Oh… thanks.” You said, taken aback by the display of kindness. It’s not that Captain Price was unkind; he’d just never shown any outward kindness outside of the field. You were surprised that he’d thought to even come back for you.

The two of you drove in silence for a few moments, before the question you were burning to ask broke its way out of your control.

“Did the other two make it back okay?” You tried to sound casual, but your insides were turning with worry.

“Yeah, they got back about an hour ago, no issues.” Price answered, concentrating on the road.

“And the intel?”

‘Acquired.” Price gruffed.

“Hmm, very good.” You stared straight ahead, watching the sun settle in the west. This was the first time in a non-formal environment you’d ever spent a moment alone with the Captain, and you weren’t sure how to make small talk with him. You sat in silence as Price drove you through the city. You wondered how he knew where you lived when it occurred to you that being a member of his team, he’d know where everyone lived. Not that you spent much time in your own house these nights. You thought back to a few nights ago...

The sound of Price clearing his throat awkwardly pulled you out of your reverie. Looking over at him, you watched as he shifted in his seat and waited for him to speak.

“What is it?”

Price sighed. “Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation. But I’ve told him the same thing I’m telling you now. This is one of the best task forces I’ve ever worked with, and I don’t want anything fucking that up. Understood?”

You felt your calm composure slip through the cracks as your eyes widened in panic. You glanced over to see him still staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I fucking know.” Price snapped, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. Shit, so maybe he did know where you actually slept after all. “I know everything that goes on in my team. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t give a fuck what you get up to in your spare time. It’s like I told him, I’m not going to report it. It’s not been an issue yet. Just don’t let it affect you on the job.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been so careful about trying to keep it professional while we’re on a mission!” Your heart raced at the fact you had been caught out.

“I know you have, Bell. But that man is head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t realised. I’m concerned he’ll let his feelings for you get in the way of the job. Look at today – he’s the best man on our team for tech, and he was willing to throw the whole job, just out of pure panic for you.” Price sighed again. “I’m not sending either of you away. I just needed to remind you of the main reason we are here. If you two can’t handle that, I’ll be forced to find someone to take your place on the team.”

“Does anyone else know?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but if Simon continues on the way he was today, I doubt it’ll be long until Soap catches on.” Price grimaced, then looked over at you. “Darlin’,” he grinned.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Price pulled up outside what you now realised wasn’t your house. “I can’t believe he let that slip out.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, careful not to move too much that it pulled at your stitches. Opening your door, you looked back at Price. “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

Price smiled and nodded in response. “Don’t be too harsh on him about today,” he said, looking over your shoulder as you heard the front door open behind you. You closed the door and waved as the jeep drove away.

*****

All your anxiety from the conversation with Price suddenly turned to irritation as you turned to face the man in the doorway. You stormed towards him, your uninjured shoulder hitting his lower abdomen as you barged your way past him into the hallway.

“Bell-” he began.

“Get out of my way, Simon. I need a fucking shower.” You snapped irritably.

“Here, let me help-”

“No.”

“Bell!” Simon pleaded.

“What the fuck was that today?!” You snarled. “You might as well just fucking announce to the whole place that we’re together!” You began climbing the stairs towards the bathroom, but stopped halfway there. Staying angry wasn’t one of your strong suits, and seeing him standing pleadingly in the hallway washed away your irritation. “Look,” you sighed heavily, coming back down the stairs so you were eye level with him. “I just had the lecture of a lifetime from Price. I can’t lose what we have here Simon, and he warned if we couldn’t keep it professional out there, then one of us would be replaced.” You stepped towards him, reaching for him in both apology and forgiveness. You placed a hand on his masked jaw, your thumb stroking along his hard cheekbone.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said apologetically, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Seeing you injured and in pain, all that blood… I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed. Smiling up at him, you smacked his arm playfully. “You’re silly, you know that right. Even I knew it wasn’t bad, and you’ve seen way more injuries than I have. I can’t imagine how you would’ve been if Soap hadn’t been there to pull your head in.”

Simon wrapped his arm around your head, resting his hand at the base of your skull and pulled you in for a hug. You lifted your other arm to place it around his waist and winced. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you feeling anyway, darlin’?” He stepped back to survey you.

“Rubbish. These pain killers are doing their job, but I feel disgusting. I really do need a shower.” You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. “I uh... might need a hand actually,” you said awkwardly, wondering how you were going to manage without getting your stitches wet. Surprisingly, this was your first major injury, given your line of work.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling you towards the bathroom.

Simon turned on the shower and helped you undress, helping remove your shoes, pants and underwear, aware of your fresh wound as he carefully pulled the shirt from your arms and over your head. His eyes filled with remorse as they fell on your injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That guy that shot you… that’s the one I took down. I didn’t know he wasn’t dead.” He looked away sadly.

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin gently and turned his head so he was looking you squarely in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself, no one else does. I’m fine.”

“But what if it had been worse? What if that bullet had landed here?” Simon touched your forehead. “Or here,” he said, touching the base of your throat. “What if-”

“Don’t think about it,” you said firmly, pulling his hand from your neck. “Simon, I said I’m fine.” Still holding his hand, you pulled it up to your lips. “There is one thing I am annoyed about, though,” you smirked as you kissed his fingers.

Simon looked at you quizzically. “Why am I the only one naked right now? Surely you’re not gonna shower in your clothes.” You stepped inside the shower, letting the water run over your head, careful to avoid letting it hit your left shoulder.

Simon’s eyes squinted, and you knew he was smirking behind his mask as he removed the rest of his gear and dumped it on the ground next to yours. As always, his mask was the very last thing he removed. No matter how comfortable Simon was with you, and no matter how many times you’d seen him without it, there were certain insecurities that were too deeply ingrained. The last piece of Ghost removed, and only Simon stood in front of you.

Simon stepped in the large shower with you. Grabbing a face washer and pouring body wash on it, he gently helped scrub off the dried blood that had made its way down your torso. He shampooed, conditioned and brushed your hair, knowing you couldn’t lift your arm to wash any dried blood that had knotted in there. Once you were clean, you grabbed the other face wash and carefully, with your good arm, moved it across his chest and abdomen. He watched as you gently made circles on his large shoulders and down his muscular arms.

You wrapped your good arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be too long,” you smiled as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel.

Walking to the dresser, you pulled out some clothes and attempted to get dressed but you couldn’t pull the shirt over your head. You sighed, and sat on the bed resignedly, still in your towel. You heard the shower stop running, and Simon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” you beckoned, reaching for him. Simon came to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs. You leaned forward and kissed his stomach, feeling the warm skin beneath your lips raise with goose bumps. You tugged on his arm, pulling him down towards the ground. He knelt, still between your legs, and leaned forward to bury his face in your neck. Almost a whole foot of height difference between the two of you, yet you were the only person who could bring Simon Riley to his knees.

Your good arm snaked its way around his broad back, tracing his spine, down to his hips to the edge of the towel. You heard Simon’s breath quicken, still lightly kissing your neck, when your fingers made their way around to the front of his towel and tugged it loose, letting it fall to the floor.

You lightly brushed your fingers down his stomach and over his navel, until you reached the base of his shaft. You felt Simon’s breath hitch as you gripped it in both hands.

“Bell..” he groaned.

“Mmm?”

He brought his mouth round to yours, kissing you deeply. His mouth trailed back along your jaw to your ear. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?” You felt his smirk against your cheek as he repeated your line back to you.

“Maybe you should fix that,” you whispered back.

Simon wasted no time in removing your towel and throwing it across the other side of the room. You laid back on the bed as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and thumbing circles around the other. Your hands threaded themselves through his thick hair as you massaged his head. Simon’s hands followed his head as he made his way down your stomach and down your navel, his hands gliding over your hips and massaging up and down your thighs.

You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure as he buried his face between your legs, his mouth sucking and licking at your clit. You gasped as you felt one of Simon’s fingers enter you, then two, and he slowly picked up a rhythm as his mouth and fingers worked in synch. You could feel your walls begin to tighten as you got closer to your orgasm.

“Stop,” you gasped. Simon looked up quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

“Not at all,” you tugged at his arm so he pulled himself so he was hovered above you. “I need you in me right now,” you purred as you pulled his head down, his lips crashing to meet yours.

You reached down and grabbed his length firmly, stroking it. Simon’s eyes glazed over with lust as he moved his head back to your neck. Guiding him, you positioned him at your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked huskily. You knew he was teasing. He knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed.

You both groaned with pleasure as he entered you, filling and stretching you out. Simon set a slow pace at first, until he was sure you had adjusted to him, then quickened the pace. His hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you, holding you in place so you didn’t move around too much. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and you gripped his forearms, lost in pleasure.

Simon leaned forward and your legs dropped to his waist. He took one of your breasts in his mouth. You moaned in ecstasy as he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Simon.. I think I’m gonna-” you gasped.

Still inside of you, Simon pulled you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

“Owwwww!” You winced as the action pulled tightly at your left shoulder.

“Fuck! Sorry! You okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you picked up the pace again. You brought your legs either side of his waist and pulled his hands to your breasts as you lowered yourself onto him, taking him completely. Now in control, you could feel every movement and every angle as you took him deep inside you.

Simon gripped your breasts firmly as he felt your walls begin to tighten. “C’mon, darlin’,” he groaned. “I’m not far off, myself.”

“I’m gonna come,” you whined. You rocked your hips back and forth and threw your head back as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasm out, and heard Simon groan as his own orgasm erupted into you. You fell on top of him, exhausted and satisfied.

Simon gently rolled you off him and onto the bed as he got up to get some water. Your eyes followed him, appreciating his finely sculpted body as he walked to the sink in the ensuite, grabbing a glass off the nightstand and filling it with water. He met your eyes as he walked back to the bed.

“What?” He asked bashfully as he handed you the water, aware of his nakedness.

“You’re beautiful,” you smiled drowsily, taking the glass.

Simon chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? They must be some strong drugs they gave you.”

“Hmmm... never better” you sighed as you handed the water back to him. Despite what you said, sleep was already pulling you under.

Simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x f reader #ghost x fem bell #ghost modern warfare

565 notes · View notes

commander-vas-normandy · 2 years

Text

The Devil’s Backbone - Chapter Six || Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Summary: Matthew Murdock is the Kingpin of Crime and you are determined to prove it. But he’s determined to distract you.

Warnings: Swearing, Minor wound description

18+ for dark and mature themes. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2k

ao3 link

Tag list: @matt-erialgirl @1800-fight-me @fatherkirbussy@catholicdaredevil @harpyofhellskitchen @deirdre-belle @carters-things

Chapter Masterlist

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Spider-Woman. Public enemy number 1 and she was laying on your couch bleeding through her fingers. The universe was determined to throw you every curveball it possibly could. Why, of all the apartments in New York City, did she have to choose your couch to crash on? And why was she asking for Murdock of all people? Did she know about your weird situation with Murdock? It still didn’t explain why she needed Murdock.

You ignored her request, going for the first aid kit in your bathroom. You grabbed the kit in a hurry and returned back to the living room where she seemed to be out of it already. You nudged her hand aside, trying your best to hide the shaking in your own hands. Her suit clung to her skin as soaked as it was. Carefully you ripped her suit enough to expose her side more and give you better access. Thankfully the wound wasn’t deep enough to cause any real problems even though it still definitely needed stitches. You got to work on cleaning and stitching her side up, letting the heavy silence sit in the air between the two of you as focused.

Once you were finished bandaging her up you put your things away and went to wash your hands. It was the easiest way to procrastinate the next thing she needed you to do. You hated it. Hated the idea of seeking out Murdock for anything unless it was related to your work. You picked your phone up, going to your text conversation with him from earlier and hovered there. You could just leave it until she woke up, force her to leave and deal with it herself. Surely nothing good could come from Murdock being involved, right? You supposed the opposite could also be true. Nothing bad could come from being involved with Spider-Woman. Then again Jameson and the Commissioner were dead set on her being a villain, so who knew?

You sighed and forced yourself to stop overthinking it. You stared at his number for a moment longer before finally calling. It rang once before he answered. You rolled your eyes because of course he answered right away when you called.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” The seriousness in his voice took you by surprise. You had half expected something cheeky about missing him. You paused for only a moment, but it was just long enough for him to be concerned. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, um, everything is fine except I have Spider-Woman passed out on my couch after I just had to stitch her up. She asked for you,” you explained, taking a seat at your dining room table. Somehow sitting was making you less fidgety for a change. You weren’t pacing at least. “I don’t expect she’ll be out long if you want to come over and start explaining some things. Like why the hell Spider-Woman is asking for the kingpin by name.”

“Still with the kingpin thing, hm?” he teased, though there was significantly less malice to it than usual. He swore under his breath before you heard movement like he was adjusting his phone, hopefully to head to you. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Just sit tight. Don’t let her go anywhere if she wakes up before I get there.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he hung up and you grumbled. It seemed like all of the men in your life had a problem with saying goodbye. You stood and went to check on Spider-Woman. She was still passed out on your couch, but your cat had settled in-between her feet.

“I should have gotten a dog. Maybe they wouldn’t just trust everyone who climbs in through a window.” You picked her up from her comfortable spot and she meowed in protest. She didn’t fight you, however, as you held her close to your chest. She was affectionate as it was and usually knew when something was stressing you out or making you sick.

It wasn’t long before you heard a knock at the door. You sat your cat down and peeked through the peephole to see Murdock standing there patiently. You opened the door and stepped aside for him to enter, giving him a curious look though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“Actually decided to come to the front door for once? And I even left my bedroom window unlocked,” you joked in a rather deadpan tone and he grinned. It was your first attempt at a joke with him, something to settle your nerves. Murdock didn’t quite intimidate you anymore, not like he had, but having Murdock and Spider-Woman in your apartment with everything going on surrounding the both of them was overwhelming.

“Cute. I figured you called, I could at least give you that little bit of decency,” he chuckled as he walked past you and went straight for the living room, his cane abandoned by the door. “And don’t worry, no one saw me. You don’t have to worry about the absolute scandal of being seen with me.”

He paused, tilting his head away from you. The lazy grin that had been on his face faltered for a second as he seemed to sniff the air. You watched him curiously, unsure of what exactly he was doing. Surely your apartment didn’t stink so bad it would derail him from a conversation. Suddenly you were too aware of anything in your apartment that might have even the slightest bad smell.

“You didn’t bring the flowers home,” he pouted, slipping back into that casual persona that had broken for just a second.

“I left them at– wait, how did you? Alright, I have to ask, what the fuck is up with you?” You didn’t bother trying to be polite about it. You were too skeeved out by him breaking into your apartment and now being aware of the lack of flowers in your home just from the living room. “Like, fine, I’ll buy that you’re blind for a second but how do you keep doing all of this weird shit?”

Murdock laughed at the bluntness of your question, maneuvering your living room easily enough to sit in one of the seats across the room, opposite of your couch. Once again it felt somehow like he was studying you from behind his round lensed glasses. You shifted your weight uncomfortably before he finally leaned back in his seat with a casual shrug.

“One sense goes, the others get sharper. Pretty simple if you ask me.” He sounded almost bored, but you figured he was pretty used to having to explain his senses to other people by now. You wondered who else he had been comfortable enough to let in on his secret. He obviously didn’t need the cane or the occasional guiding hand. If he could sneak into your apartment on multiple occasions you figured that he probably didn’t need much help with anything actually.

“Call me ignorant, but most people usually can’t smell flowers from across an apartment. Doesn’t sound quite so simple if you ask me.” You moved to sit in the seat opposite him, watching him carefully. You didn’t quite feel like pressing your luck with him. He seemed to like you so you didn’t want to ruin the safety that afforded you by trying to dig too deep.

“You said it yourself when we first met, ‘blind doesn’t necessarily mean helpless.’ I just happen to be a little… special on top of that,” he explained vaguely with a motion of his hand.

“Special is certainly a word I would use to describe you,” you snorted quietly, hiding your smirk behind your hand even though he couldn’t see it anyway.

He chuckled and looked as if he were about to retort when a groan distracted you both. You quickly turned your attention to the woman on the couch across from you. She shifted, trying to sit up before the pain in her side registered and she winced. She didn’t push it, instead opting to lay back down though her hand immediately went to her exposed side. You watched as she carefully felt the stitches in her side then finally turned her head to where you and Murdock sat across from her.

“Glad to see you’re alive and well, Gwennie,” Murdock teased, propping his chin up on his hand. You blinked when you heard the name, the realization settling in quick.

“Gwennie?” You asked, looking at her in disbelief.

“Thanks, Murderdock,” she spat as she attempted to sit up again. “The mask only helps if you don’t go telling people who’s behind it in the first place.”

“Murderdock?” You turned your attention back to Murdock, expression now much more deadpan at the dumb nickname.

“Funny, right? Has a good ring to it. ‘Murderdock.’ Could be a hashtag or something.” He was much more amused by it than either you or Gwen seemed to be. “But yes! Our perky little Spider-Woman is none other than little Miss Gwen Stacy. Makes the whole whistleblower video make a lot more sense, huh?”

“But how?” You turned your attention back to Gwen, watching as she removed the mask to reveal the younger blond woman you were all too familiar with thanks to how much time you spent around Frank. It was surprising that none of you had pieced her identity together, but Murdock was right. It did make Captain Stacy’s decision make more sense. “Nevermind that. I think my bigger question is why do you need Murdock? You’re Spider-Woman. You’re supposed to be a hero, right?”

“I am,” her voice sounded almost desperate as she began her argument. “But lately my powers they’ve… they’ve disappeared. Or, at least, they’re not what they used to be. It comes and goes. Some days I’ll be fine, then some days are like today and my webs don’t work and I get my ass kicked. Murdock has the resources to help me get my powers back to their full capacity. It’s worth dealing with him as long as I can keep doing what I do. Whether people really want me to or not.”

She seemed honest from what you could tell. There was a drive behind her blue eyes that you understood. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the better. She didn’t sound pleased to deal with Murdock, so maybe he really was a means to an end. It didn’t mean anyone else would be willing to listen if they found out the ‘Spider-menace’ was working with the Kingpin. If ‘working for’ was the phrase to describe it. More like he was manipulating her. Holding something over her for control. But why? What did he need her for? A soldier? She didn’t kill though. At least not that you were aware of.

“Okay, sure, repercussions aside, I’ll buy that for now, but don’t you have ties to OsCorp directly? Why not use that instead?” You questioned, chewing on your nail as you tried to piece everything together.

“Harry and I… we don’t really talk anymore. Not after Peter died.” Her gaze fell to the floor, voice quiet. You had known Peter’s death had been rough on her, but now knowing she was accused of murdering her own best friend as Spider-Woman you couldn’t imagine the pain and guilt she felt. “Besides, that would require me to give away my identity.”

“But you trust Matt Murdock of all people with your identity?” You side eyed him and he pouted.

“Come on, sweetheart, have a little more faith in me than that.” You swore he was giving you puppy dog eyes behind his glasses.

“No, thanks,” you shot back and turned your attention back to Gwen.

“Believe me, I didn’t give that up willingly. He already knew my identity when he approached us,” Gwen continued, ignoring your banter with Murdock.

“Us?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at her curiously.

“He approached my dad and I separately. My dad about his involvement in my case and me about my powers. Then this morning when my dad released that video, well, he needed a lawyer and who better than the man who has the full picture?” Gwen sighed, fiddling with the mask in her hands as she spoke. You could hear the doubt in her voice. Maybe she really didn’t trust him after all.

“Why did your dad pull a full 180 like that anyway? I get it he knows Spider-Woman is his daughter now, but that’s a lot of prejudice and bias to just throw out the window all of sudden. He was leading a witch hunt and then just nothing?” You asked carefully, leaning forward in your seat. It was hard to believe he would just change his mind like that and turn against the NYPD when he had been with them for so long.

“Well, yeah. When he realized who I was he was willing to sit down and give my side of the story a listen. A real listen which no one else seems to be keen on giving me.” She seemed a little upset with you for questioning her father’s motives, an edge to her voice that told you to be careful.

You raised your hands defensively, letting the topic drop. It didn’t change the fact that you doubted the former Captain. You believed her, but what if she had been lying to him? Manipulating her relationship with him just to have someone on her side? Would his love for his daughter have really blinded him to justice?

“Anyway,” Gwen spoke up again after a long pause, directing her attention to Murdock. Without hesitation he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a sliver of green rock in a glass tube.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you.” He grinned as she caught it. She pocketed the small case before standing and putting her mask back on.

“Thanks.” She didn’t look at him, instead turning her hidden gaze to you. “Sorry for breaking in, but I figured you would be my best chance for getting ahold of him. And your place was close by. Won’t happen again though. At least not bleeding anyway.”

“Appreciate it. Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” You stood as well, ready to offer for her to stay but she raised a hand to stop you.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just going home from here anyway so I don’t think there will be much of an issue.” She headed towards a window and hopped out before you or Murdock could argue with her, though you hardly doubted Murdock was going to argue on account of her well being.

“I think this was a pretty helpful conversation, don’t you? You know so much more than anyone else does in your office. Could get on top of the game if you wanted.” Murdock stood, buttoning his jacket. You crossed your arms, staring at him. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“What’s the matter? She’s a kid, Murdock! I’m not just going to expose her and put them both in danger. Her dad has done that enough for the both of them without me publishing her secret identity to the world. I may be a reporter, but I’m no monster,” you echoed his own words from your previous encounter back at him.

“Aw, you really are a reporter with a heart.” He gave you that wolfish grin and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Why are you doing this to her?” You asked after a pause, not looking at him. “Because we both know your ‘helping’ her isn’t just out of the goodness of your heart. You’re manipulating her into needing you. Why?”

“She needs help,” he shrugged. “And I see a little bit of myself in her.”

“Then do her a favor,” you stepped closer to him, poking him in the chest. He didn’t back down. You didn’t expect him to. “Use this opportunity to make sure she doesn’t turn out like you. One of you in this world is bad enough. We don’t need someone with her powers running around with your personality totally unchecked.”

He didn’t back down but you watched him visibly wince at your words. If you didn’t know any better you might have thought you hurt his feelings. With the way he didn’t quip back you were almost certain that was what happened.

“You really think so little of me, sweetheart?” He questioned quietly.

“Me and everyone else in this city,” you answered, voice even as you looked up into those red lenses of his. Sometimes you hated not being able to make eye contact with him even if it would only ever be one-sided. The glasses felt like more than just a physical barrier. Somehow they almost made you feel more vulnerable. He could block his eyes from you, but you were entirely exposed to him. And knowing that his senses were so enhanced, it was impossible to tell what he could make of you at any given second.

“I guess I’ve done a good job building up my reputation then,” he huffed out a laugh but it was so half hearted it almost hurt.

“Seems like it,” you murmured, suddenly distracted by the movement of his hand reaching for yours where it still rested against his chest. You hadn’t even noticed when your hand had gone from a simple jab to the chest, to resting flat. His hand was warm as it gently held yours. You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched in your throat and you just knew he noticed. As close as you had somehow managed to get to him again, there was no way he hadn’t.

You watched the way his hand gripping yours flexed slightly as he gave the faintest squeeze. Slowly, your gaze traveled higher once more. You mentally traced his features. The scruff on his jawline. His lips. His nose. Eventually you landed back on your own reflection on his lenses, hyper aware of the way you had begun to lean into him in the silence. Out of reflex, your eyes fluttered shut as you continued to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips ghosted over his and you felt his grip on your hand tighten.

“Sweetheart…” he whispered and you could taste him on your tongue without ever completing the kiss. You suddenly wished he hadn’t spoken as realization hit you once again and guilt gripped your heart.

“You should go,” you breathed, though neither of you made an effort to separate. “I’m sorry, Matthew…”

Matt paused, stunned either by your rejection or your use of his first name for the first time. It felt like time froze, the two of you unsure if you should continue or pull away. It felt like ages before you pulled completely from his grasp, covering your mouth as you turned away from him.

Your heart felt like it was seizing up in your chest. You shouldn’t want to kiss him. You shouldn’t want him to hold you close just moments after you were scolding him for manipulating a young woman for his own wicked ends. And yet there you were, feeling guilty both for yanking him around and for letting him yank you around in kind.

The silence was only broken by Murdock clearing his throat before he crossed back to your front door to grab his cane. You heard him take a breath as if he were about to speak, but he stayed silent as he walked out of your front door once more. You waited a long moment before collapsing back into your seat. You didn’t know what was going on in your own head anymore.

#taliesin writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murderdock #earth 65 #dark!matt murdock #kingpin!matt murdock #the devil's backbone

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.

This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.

Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.

At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.

“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.

“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.

“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.

“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”

“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”

“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.

“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.

“Make it a month, I know my worth.”

Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.

Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.

“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.

Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”

“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”

‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.

“Bring a mop too.”

Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.

“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”

“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.

“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.

“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”

“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.

“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.

“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.

“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”

“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.

“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.

“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”

“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.

“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.

“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.

“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.

You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.

“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”

You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.

“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.

“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”

You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”

Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.

“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.

You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.

“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned

“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

“(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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rynne311 · 3 years

Text

Pot & Kettle

Request: So! Could you possibly do a request with JasonxReader where reader has been working like crazy, and nonstop. And Jason isn’t happy that she’s been nonstop, and Jason notices how tired the reader looks and forces her to take a break and sleep? That sounds cute haha

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: 972

Everything about you ached, from the dull pain that never seemed to go away in your feet to the headache that never really seemed to get better. You tried to hide your discomfort, but that was more of a lie you told yourself so you wouldn't have to admit how exhausted and beat down you were and how incredibly obvious it was.

Even going inside after work felt daunting. Yes, home was still your safehaven to relax and ignore the outside world, but being home brough its own responsibilities you didn't want to deal with. So instead of going inside to begin to decide on what to make for dinner or to go through the bills still sitting on the table, you stood in the hallway outside your apartment door with your eyes closed and your forehead leaning against the doorframe. It was a futile effort to make time stop, made abundantly clear when you were interrupted by a very confused looking delivery man handing you a bag of food and asking for $28.75. You fished two twenties out of your wallet to give the delivery guy before waving him off and heading inside. At least now you didn't have to worry about dinner.

"That was supposed to be a surprise," Jason said, hurrying over to take the bag of food from your hands, allowing you to put your keys and work bag down.

"It still was," you assured him with a soft smile. "I really didn't feel like cooking tonight."

As Jason brought the food into the kitchen and started to unload dinner, you toed off your shoes, wiggling your toes in relief. You let that feeling wash over you before you bent down and lifted your laptop out of your bag.

"You are not seriously still working right now," Jason chided you. "You've been working doubles all week, and I'm not even sure when you last had a day off. You're running yourself ragged and need to take some time to actually relax and take care of yourself."

"Well aren't you just the pot calling the kettle black," you retorted, finally looking up from the computer. Just as Jason opened his mouth to argue, you continued, "I may be overworked, but you don't get to lie to me that you aren't overworking yourself too. In the last four nights alone you've bled on the couch, on the shower curtain, on the bathroom rug, on the duvet cover, on my pillow, and on my pajamas, while I was wearing them and asleep."

"In my defense, I thought I had stitched that wound up better and I didn't know I was going to bleed through the bandage," he argued. When it came to making sure you were taking care of yourself, he never liked to be on defense. "But point taken, we both need to take a break before we kill ourselves."

You had a feeling that had been too easy. Jason never really offered to sideline himself without somebody else really forcing it upon him. You stared him down, pulling your lips into a thin line as you thought through just how to prod the truth out of him.

"Fine, you win," he broke down. Even this felt too easy, but you weren't going to fight it yet. "Bruce has me on patrol lockdown for the next week because apparently my recent injuries make me a liability, and since you need a vacation, I thought…"

"Well at least I'm the better option to being put into a forcible house arrest," you deadpanned. You knew what you were doing, and you hated that you were letting your sour mood twist his words. "Or am I just considered a babysitter?"

"That came out wrong," Jason sputtered, desperately trying to backpedal. You started to feel a little bad watching him crumble. The man won't flinch when he's outnumbered and outgunned, but a glare from you stops him in his tracks.

"Yeah, I'd say it did," you agreed, softening your approach. "But yes, I get your point. Just let me send this email right now saying I need to take my personal days through the end of the week and that I will be unreachable until I come back next week."

In the years that you'd known him, you'd never seen him so excited to have to take time off of patrol. You tried to commit that look to memory for the next time he was gone far too long on a mission with Roy and you needed something to make you smile.

As you closed your laptop, he took it from you to be placed out of sight until you actually needed it again. You felt a little bad when you saw him wince from where one of his stitches must have started to pull again, but even that didn't seem to bother him too much.

“So, my dear kettle, what would you like to do first?” He asked, pulling your feet onto his lap and beginning to knead from the calves down.

It wasn't instant, it never was, but as he kneaded the knots and aches, the weight of the stress slowly began to lift off of you. You let your eyes fall shut and your head roll back as you hummed in appreciation.

"Literally nothing," you finally answered. "My dear pot, let's just eat, put on a movie, and pass out. When we wake up in the morning without an alarm we can figure out what's next."

"You read my mind."

The growing excitement in his voice told you he was really the pot to your kettle. The world and all of its headaches will still be there in a week and all of its headaches, but for now you both could pretend there was nothing but the two of you.

Tags:

Everything: @societiesholyskittle @pickyblue12 @icycoldbeanieweanies @thoughtfullychaoticdreamer @bloatedandlonly @sakurafille @jason-todd-squad @childofposeidonforlife @webcraft4eveh @bookish-and-shy @dnarez @thirstiestpotato

Jason: @jason-todd-rh @princessowly1234 @manymanyenvelopes @drarrylov3r @axa-vega

Want to be tagged? Let me know via message or ask box!

#Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd reader insert #Jason Todd imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily reader insert #batfamily imagine #batfam x reader #batfam reader insert #batfam imagine #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #red hood imagine #x reader #reader insert

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atzsslut · 3 years

Text

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) :

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago.

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now.

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan.

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages.

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets.

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit.

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer.

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms.

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable.

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker.

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet.

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug.

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist.

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car.

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body.

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off.

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you.

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul.

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in.

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned.

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented.

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you.

“M’lady.” he offered,

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.”

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that.

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard.

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s.

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now.

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already.

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big, bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you.

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside.

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc.

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you.

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact.

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you.

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home.

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together.

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up.

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint.

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point.

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground.

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest.

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point.

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning,

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion.

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?”

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together?

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen.

Until now.

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense.

So, you took a small step forward.

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask,

“Who’s stopping you from asking?”

#stray kids #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan #bang chan fluff #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #bang chan x reader fluff #chan x reader fluff #chan x reader #chris bang fluff

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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

Take a Load Off

2.5k

fluff, post-canon, human!cas, anxious dean, established dean/cas

(i saw this post by @emptymeg and couldn’t get it out of my head, so here’s a fic :)

also posted on ao3

“What’s in the box?” Dean asked, coming into the library to see Cas setting a large package on the map table with a huff. The table creaked under its weight. “Hey, name that movie.”

Cas cocked his head. “What movie?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, dude, you’re hopeless. What’s in the box! Brad Pitt?” Cas shrugged and Dean sighed. “Forget it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas said, fetching scissors from a drawer, “This box is for you. I bought you something.”

“Oh?” Dean came to the table, interest even more piqued. “What kind of something?”

Cas gave him a look. “Not what you’re thinking.” He cut through the tape securing the box. “I read that this can relieve stress and help you sleep better.”

“I already know something that can do that.” He added a wink for good measure.

“So,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “I thought you should try it. You haven’t been getting enough sleep lately and I’m worried about your anxiety levels.”

“Wait a moment,” Dean protested. “What do you mean, my ‘anxiety levels’?” Cas opened the box and he leaned over to look at the contents. Folded, silky dark grey fabric. “What is that, a blanket?”

“A weighted blanket,” Cas corrected, heaving it out of the box. “Twenty pounds.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He plucked at the fabric. “This is supposed to help?"

“It’s proven by science.” He nodded at a chair by Dean. “Go, sit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat down and Cas draped the blanket over him. “Fuck.” Dean lifted his arms up under the blanket, then dropped them. “This is actually heavy.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You don’t look it at all,” Cas deadpanned and Dean kicked at him. Cas pulled a brochure out of the box. “Soft cotton filled with poly pellets,” he read. “Alleviate anxiety and increase serotonin.” He studied Dean, eyes squinted. “You still look tense.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean shoved the blanket to the floor with a thump. “Think you got duped.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Cas grumbled, picking it up off the ground. “You have to give it a chance.”

“I just gave it a chance.” Standing, he brushed Cas’ hair off his forehead, gave him his best you love me smile. “Now, do you really wanna help me relax?”

Cas studied him for a long moment, then said, “Okay.” He carefully folded the blanket. “We’re keeping this, though. I still think it’ll work.”

Dean made a face behind his back and started to follow him out of the room, but the phone Sam had recently installed in the library for a hunter hotline started ringing. He groaned and Cas hesitated in the doorway.

“Do I have to?” Dean asked him.

“I suppose so,” Cas sighed and set the blanket down on a chair. Turns out the call was from a hunter out near Boise who needed help with a case. Of course, Sam was away visiting Eileen, so he and Cas got stuck spending the next two hours going over the case information, trying to figure out what the monster was. They finally settled on vetala, a whole pack of them, and after instructing the hunter on how to kill them, Dean hung up the phone.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows how big the pack is. Could be a whole dozen of the freaks.”

“Well, now she knows how to kill them,” Cas said. “And there’s other hunters in the area who can help.”

“Yeah...” Dean fiddled with his pen, tapping it on the open pages of his dad’s journal.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean realized he was frowning. “Nothing.” Flexing his shoulders, he stretched out his back, stiff from poring over books. “Just, three people are already dead. I better be right that it’s a pack of vetala.”

Reaching over, Cas rubbed his back in small circles and Dean leaned back into his hand. “We did all we could, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that was true. But, short of driving all night out to Boise, he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do. Still, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve missed a clue, might’ve misled the hunter. He clicked his pen again and again, going over the case in his mind, worst case scenarios—

“Are you going to sleep now?” Cas asked, and Dean glanced at him.

“No.” Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Don’t think I can now.”

“Would you say you’re feeling stressed? Anxious, perhaps?” Cas deliberately looked to his right and Dean followed his gaze to the weighted blanket folded on a chair.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“You should use it,” Cas urged. “There’s no shame in feeling anxious, I often feel the same way too.”

“I’ve dealt with worse before, this is nothing new. Just comes with the job.”

Cas sighed. “You put too much on your shoulders.”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, comes with the job.” If he wasn’t always on edge, he figured he was doing things wrong. Get too comfortable and bad things happened. Just the way it was.

“Still, you can admit you need a break.”

“Jeez, Cas, I’m wounded.” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t stay up too late.” He seemed to hesitate, fighting against saying more, and Dean said,

“I’m fine, Cas, really.”

“Okay.” Cas didn’t look too convinced, but he kissed Dean goodnight and headed off to their bedroom.

Dean cleaned up the mess of books and papers on the table, turned off the lamps just to do something with his hands. Normally, this is when he’d grab a drink, try to calm his head, but he’d been trying to cut back lately—blame Cas’ concern for his liver—so instead he decided to head to the Dean Cave. Maybe a few episodes of Dr. Sexy would distract himself enough to sleep.

Leaving the room, his eyes fell on the weighted blanket again. Cas and his ridiculous ideas. If Dean hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, that was just the result of living their kind of life. Nothing to do about it. Ignore the stress or end up drowning in it, that was his motto.

(And a horrible coping method, according to Sam and Cas)

Either way, lying under twenty pounds of “cotton and poly pellets” wasn’t going to help. Though the blanket had been really soft, he’d give it that.

He forgot all about it the following day, though, when Sam found a case a few towns over, and Dean and Cas drove over to meet him there. Disturbed gravesites, people disappearing near the cemetery at night. A ghoul, by all signs. A day of morgue visits and interviewing witnesses, then another two days of sitting parked in the cemetery, waiting for the ghoul to emerge again and feed. Dean was almost happy to see the thing when it crawled out of its grave. Almost.

Killing the damn thing hadn’t been too easy. But after inadvertently destroying a few gravestones, nearly falling into an open grave, and narrowly avoiding losing a few limbs, they finally bashed the ghoul’s brains in thoroughly, and split up from the cemetery. Dean went to speak to the latest victim’s mother while Cas and Sam got rid of the remains.

Returning to the bunker first, Dean showered, blood and ghoul remains washing away down the drain. But even the warm water couldn’t ease the jitteriness sitting high in his chest. The ghoul had been strong, fast, and Dean’s heart had leapt into his throat when it got a hold of Sam. Even Cas had struggled to stop the thing, gunshots only serving to anger the son of a bitch more.

Getting out of the shower, he scrubbed himself dry with his towel, inspected a cut along his arm. Not deep enough for stitches. If Sam had avoided a concussion, they were lucky. The ghoul was dead, at least. Left a dozen ruined graves and a few torn apart teenagers in its wake, but dead.

As he changed into clean clothes, he heard the bunker door open. “All good?” he asked, entering the war room to find Sam and Cas setting down their bags.

“If you mean will the trunk always reek like ghoul, then yes,” Sam said. He grimaced as he took off his boots, muddy footprints already leaving a trail down the bunker stairs. Then he glanced at his phone and smiled, said, “Eileen’s calling.”

“Whipped,” Dean mouthed at him as Sam answered his phone, smiling at the screen and walking off down the hallway. “Well,” he told Cas, ”you look like shit.”

Cas gave him his best, I can smite you even without my grace look. “Charming.” He headed off down the hallway towards their bedroom and Dean followed. “How did Mrs. Landis take the news?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Uh, 'bout how you'd expect, I guess. Told her a bear had gotten to her son, but it was all taken care of now. Not much else to say.”

The mother had sobbed and thanked him. He’d done a piss poor job of comforting her and left with an all-too-familiar sick feeling in his stomach; they hadn’t done enough, they could never save everyone.

“And you?” Cas asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Dean as he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “Are you alright?”

Dean started to nod, say fine, but he knew Cas would see straight through the lie. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Just shook up. Coulda been a bad one.”

Cas nodded as he pulled off his trenchcoat, the edges bloody and muddy. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to torture yourself thinking about what could’ve happened.”

Dean shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know.” Easier said than done.

He heard Cas’s footsteps, then felt Cas’ fingers on his cheek and tilted his head into his palm. Breathed in and out. Cas smelled like blood and guts and sweat, not a particularly pleasant combination, but his hand was warm and his other hand was carding through his hair and, shit, that felt nice.

“Go to sleep,” Cas said quietly. “You need rest.”

Dean nodded and Cas kissed the top of his head. He left to take a shower and Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck, this hunt had been a close one. Closer than they’d had in a long time.

Dropping his hands, his eyes settled on the weighted blanket that Cas had left folded on the chair at the desk, a silent plea for him to use it. He rolled his eyes. Anxious, his ass.

He started to pull the covers back on the bed, but the thought of lying down with the hunt running on repeat through his head was less than appealing. Cas’ trenchcoat hung bloody on the wall, and Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, adrenaline and nerves still rushing through him.

Alright, maybe a little anxious.

With a glance at the door to convince himself Cas would be in the shower for a little while longer, he grabbed the blanket, brought it to their bed.

Getting under the covers, he draped the blanket over himself and lay down, shifting to get comfortable. Once settled, he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the miracle blanket to work its wonders. How much money had Cas spent on this shit? He really had to hide the credit cards.

He shifted again, the mattress creaking, and dropped back with a huff. Not that he didn’t appreciate Cas trying to help, but a twenty-pound blanket wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a full night of sleep and a blow job and an all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún. His nose was itchy, his knee was bruised, his back was fucked up from getting thrown against a gravestone, Sam had already found another case in Albuquerque, and, fuck, he was just so damn tired.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through the sensation of his chest tightening. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with every deliberate breath, and he counted like Sam had taught him years ago when he’d woken with a panic attack—breathe in for seven seconds, hold for four, let out for eight.

Don’t think about what could’ve happened. We’re all safe. Cas is safe, Sam is safe. I’m safe.

His heartbeat slowly settled. The blanket’s weight was strangely comforting, warm, trapping him under the covers. Forced to stay still, he felt his limbs slowly relax into the mattress, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating, his back easing and hands curling loosely along the sheets.

Okay. Shit. Maybe there was something to this weighted blanket thing. His mind grew hazier as his thoughts began to wander, and he found himself drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open and startled his eyes open.

“You’re using it,” Cas whispered excitedly, standing in the doorway. “Are you relaxed?”

“Fuck off,” Dean told him. He would’ve flipped him off, but that would require lifting his hand out from under the blanket and he was too—dammit, Cas was right—relaxed to move.

“I knew it would be perfect,” Cas said, sounding too triumphant. Shutting the door softly, he got into bed next to him—well, tried to. He shoved at the blanket encroaching on his side of the bed. “Dean, move over.”

“Nope.” Dean shut his eyes again. “Reap what you have sown.”

Grumbling, Cas turned off the light and got under the covers with more rustling and movement than necessary. Finally, he settled down. The bunker hummed, the heating running, the pipes in the walls creaking as a shower turned on down the hallway. The blanket heavy on top of him, Dean began to fall asleep again.

“Are you really gonna keep that on all night?” Cas asked, disturbing the quiet.

“Yup.”

Cas huffed and Dean could only keep up the ruse for a few more seconds before lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under.”

Sliding over, Cas got underneath, and they laid side by side, pressed against each other. Their fingers brushed, and Dean crooked a finger around Cas’ thumb.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Mhm.” He was starting to think he should’ve bought one of these things a long time ago. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was before until now, all the tension in his body slipping away.

Cas shifted onto his side and Dean blinked open his eyes to look at him. “I guess I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t push it.” He caught Cas’ smile in the dark and elbowed him on principle before shifting over to kiss him. Then he tugged at Cas’ arm and turned onto his side, prompting Cas to press close against his back and wrap an arm around him.

He smiled, eyes falling shut at the warm press of the blanket and Cas’ body around his. Now he was relaxed.

tag list:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

#missed all the drama about the 15x20 script bc i was writing this last night #finale who?#dean and cas are alive and thriving #destiel fic #cw anxiety #expectingtofly writes #fluff

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flourgirl · 3 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @parkerlovebot @alytavzla @yourbiggestspiderfan @silentium-tais-toi @jailcalledlife @orangesodafoam @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideydreamers @taciturnspidey @harrisonsoceaneyes

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #mcu #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff

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dynyamight · 3 years

Note

fluffy prompts! 211 please! :) -sneakers <3

send me a writting ask

211. We’re a team, remember?

If he had the option, Midoriya would prefer to patrol alone.

And, everyone seems to be baffled about it.

“Can you blame us? You don’t look like the lone wolf type, you know.” Shinsou had mentioned before, back in the locker rooms.

Blinking, Midoriya tilted his head over to him, a few lockers away. “I didn’t know lone wolves had a look.”

“They don’t. But, if they did, they wouldn’t look like you.” Shinsou sighed, bringing a towel up to his neck. He dabbed gingerly at the sweat. “Though, I guess with your power, you wouldn’t need another person to weigh you down.”

“It’s not about power. I just don’t want to drag anyone into immense danger.” Midoriya admitted, slipping his arms out of his hero costume.

Immediately, he felt a sharp jolt of pain cease his arms. He winced, looking down at the stitches around his shoulders, now tightened, fresh, and sensitive.

The wound, as well as the others littering his body, are reminders of that danger he worries for others. Each fight is with a different villain, varying in strength and quirk. But, they all have the same intentions when battling Midoriya.

Enemies want him dead. Simple as that.

Sometimes, even everyday people wish him dead.

And, it’s the type of danger he wouldn’t want anyone to face.

Shinsou shrugged, having tossed his wraps in his locker. “You say that, but all heroes are bound to be in danger, at some point. Aren’t they?”

“That’s not—“

Midoriya halts, immobilized. At first, he worries the new frozen sensation is an enemy quirk activating, from their recent shift on the clock. He instantly cursed himself for not being attentive.

But, a split second later, he realized from the tooth eating grin from Shinsou, that it was actually his doing.

He had been in the middle of unbuckling his utility belt. So much for that.

“Life and death. It’s the real game we’re all playing out in the city.” Shinsou stated, buttoning up his civilian clothes. “And, you swear you are its only player, Midoriya.”

The spell finally broke. Finally able to regain his movements, Midoriya gasped a deep, willful breath. “I-I just don’t want anyone to worry about me.”

“Worrying is a part of teamwork.” Shinsou insisted, shaking his head, “If we didn’t worry, then everyone would be reckless, without a care in the world. People wouldn’t care, and then, there would be no sense of compassion, anywhere.”

Pulling off his stirrups, Midoriya weakly laughed, unable to say anything else.

Yeah, that seems to be something he does too often, than not. Reckless. Spontaneous. Relying on gut feeling.

But, Midoriya cares, he does. Just, maybe not the way the rest of the world does.

So willing to give himself, grow tired and weak. When others just want him to rest.

Midoriya left shortly after that. He felt a little guilty, leaving Shinsou earlier than usual. He hoped his friend knew that he appreciated his advice, as well as his honest truth.

However, he had lost the will to continue the rather self-exposing conversation. Besides, the exhaustion always settles into his bones, the moment he stops moving and starts thinking.

Alas, he has a long way back home; clock out of the agency building, take the elevator, walk to the train station, street stop, and up the elevator to his apartment.

Which leads him to now; standing outside his apartment complex, shivering under nothing, but a hoodie and sweats.

His teeth chatter, behind his face mask, as he tries to jiggle the keys inside. The winter night breeze burning his nose cold.

A click resounds his brain, and relief washes over him. The moment he steps inside, the guard he feels, tight in his shoulders, drops finally. Closing the door gently from behind, Midoriya lets out a long needed sigh.

Home. He’s back home.

Quietly, Midoriya offers a pardon of intrusion, as he shuffles his shoes off at the front. He sets down his work duffle bag on the floor, mentally promising to wash his hero costume and the undergarments, early in the morning.

He wishes he could at least put them in the washer. But, the weight of his eyelids feel so heavy; he stumbles into his bedroom simply on instinct, rather than sight.

Slowly, Midoriya pushes the cracked door open. With quiet footsteps, he walks to the bed, towards one open space, ready for his arrival.

The other space was filled, obvious by the big lump of covers right beside it.

Lifting the bedsheets, Midoriya simply worms himself inside. He makes sure to leave a gap between him and the occupied space, as to not alert his presence. He even makes sure to keep his chilled toes curled, towards himself.

It was futile. The body shifts, and suddenly, a tired, glaring pair of red eyes look at him. “..Took you long enough.”

Midoriya’s heart tightens, feeling bad. “Ah, it was supposed to be a double shift, but then, they needed me for an extra team up. Everything changed at the last minute.”

Twelve hours, out roaming the city. And, then, a whole team mission added on top of all of that. More or less, two days out in the city. Draining didn’t even cover the amount of tired he felt.

“Tch. ‘Course you did..” Under the covers, a warm pair of arms outreach towards Midoriya. They wrap around his waist. “Had me fucking waiting.”

Midoriya smiles, bringing his own body closer to the warmth of limbs. Cold and hot legs entangled together. Arms at each other’s waist. Foreheads touching.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait, Kacchan. Sorry.” He whispers, closing his eyes.

He hears Bakugou click his tongue, before there’s a hard pinch at his cheek. Midoriya whines at the pain, but Bakugou pays no mind.

“Send a damn text, next time.” Bakugou hisses.

“Okay, okay! My face s’hurting, Kacchan.”

He doesn’t need to see Bakugou’s intense glare; he can feel it staring right at the space between his brows. However, instead there’s a soothing hand that runs through Midoriya’s curls. “Gross. You’re freezing as hell, and you didn’t even shower, either?”

Midoriya shakes his head. “I will do it later.” He sleepily says.

“And your clothes?”

“..Will do it later.”

Bakugou growls, and Midoriya mentally prepares for the onslaught of curses and complaints at his lazy attitude.

But, it never happens. Instead, Bakugou pulls himself closer to Midoriya, head nestled in the crook of his neck. “S’fine.” He huffs.

“I swear I will do it tomorrow morning.” Midoriya offers weakly.

“Don’t bother.” Bakugou breath tickles around Midoriya’s ears. “Sleep in. I’ll do it.”

“No, please. I will—“

“Did I fucking stutter?” Bakugou mutters, and there’s a small pull at his ear. “I said don’t bother. And, I mean it.”

“Then, I will make breakfast.”

“No.”

“..How about lunch?”

“I said no.”

“Kacchan, please—“

“Fucking hell, go to sleep!” Bakugou yells into his ear, tightening his grip around Midoriya. “Just— I got all of tomorrow. Sleep.”

Midoriya shrugs against the embrace, heart feeling heavy. “I can do it all, too.”

“M’not saying you can’t. I know you can.” Bakugou whispers, running his fingers through his curls again, “But, you keep forgetting that you don’t have do shit alone all the damn time.”

“I just prefer—“

“To do it all on your own. Yeah. I fucking know.” Bakugou sighs, “But, we’re—“

There’s a moment of hesitation, obvious on Bakugou’s end. However, after a deep breath out, Bakugou wills himself to speak. “..We’re a team, remember?”

Midoriya’s face reddens instantly. A team. That’s another way to put it.

Dating. They’re dating. Almost a year now.

And, Bakugou even remotely mentioning it never fails to make Midoriya feel the fanny flutters all over again.

“Y-Yeah.” Midoriya barely voices, wobbly smiling, “We are.”

“Then, let me do shit.” Bakugou mutters, his face feeling hot against Midoriya’s neck, “Let me be there for you.”

“You don’t have to..” Midoriya insists feebly.

“I ain’t doing it out of force. Even if it’s just for one day, I want to help you.”

Sighing, Midoriya brings his hand to Bakugou’s chin, lifting up his head. Their gazes meet. “You mean that?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “God, how much more do I got to fucking spell it out to you? Yes.”

Letting a soft snort, Midoriya inches his face close. “It’s like you love me, or something.” He teases.

“Shut it.” However, there’s a slight upturn in the corners of Bakugou’s lips. “You’re the fucking worst.”

Midoriya smiles back. “Thank you for putting up with me, Kacchan.”

“You put up with my shit, just as much.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Yeah, but I have problems.”

“Don’t we all.”

Midoriya laughs feebly, shaking his head. He closes his eyes, losing the strength to keep them open any longer. “Thank you for worrying about me..” He plants a small kiss onto Bakugou’s lips, before settling his head onto his shoulders.

“Hah? Who said anything about ‘worry’? I ain’t fucking worried.” Bakugou growls, “Never have been. Never will be.”

But, Midoriya knows better. Especially with how close Bakugou holds him, and the way he continues to rub a comforting hand onto his back, making sure to avoid his stitched shoulder.

Warming him up. Lulling him to sleep. Allowing him to let go of all his stresses.

Midoriya smiles himself to sleep.

#star responds #FINALLY !! settled back home ;; & now i can post my airplane ficlets !!#hope you like this one sneaks !! it's soft & sweet just like you #also i was so sleepy writing this so it was totally self projection #bakugou being touchy & gentle we LUV #clingy bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #katsudeku #gardenjade #dekusneakers #my beloved #FICLET

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 1:

ℓєє тαєуσиg

23 days of NCT masterlist.

Taglist: @notbeforelong @unknown5tar @curieouscapt @whathamelon

warnings: slight violence, mentions of blood.

Is he okay? The question kept echoing in your mind, your nails bleeding due to the excessive biting. He’d always let you know whenever he was running late, but this time, you hadn’t received a single call from him, not even a small text.

You wanted to go out and look for him, make sure he was alright, but the guards outside your house would never allow you to leave. It wasn’t Taeyong’s intention to keep you prisoner, but he knew how impulsive you were and wanted to make sure you were always safe. Thankfully, no one was guarding the back of the house.

After changing into more comfortable clothes and saving the gun Taeyong had gifted you in your pocket, you were ready to climb out of the window. You made it to your garden with nothing more than a few scratches and maybe a bruise or two.

You tried your best not to make any noise, cursing under your breath when a dried leaf crunched under your boot. None of the guards seemed to notice. You sprinted through the yard, jumping over the fence and quickly calling a cab to get to his office.

You drummed your fingers against your thigh as the driver made his way through the quiet streets, your anxiousness growing as you approached the building. You thanked the driver, placing a few dollars on his palm before finally exiting the vehicle. The door was open, something unusual that made your breath hitch.

You retrieved the gun from your pocket as you made your way inside, turning on your phone’s flashlight to avoid any incidents. With a steady grip on the weapon, you opened the door to your husband’s office, but suddenly, a big hand covered your mouth, pulling you into the shadows after throwing your phone away. He’d skillfully snatched your gun, leaving you helpless. As you struggled under his grip, you felt a stinging pain on your forearm, but didn’t pay much attention to it.

You bit his hand, stepped on his shoe, and tried everything in your hands to get rid of his grip, but it was to no avail.

“Calm down, it’s me.” A familiar voice whispered beside your ear. “We need to get you to a safe place, alright?” You nodded, feeling relieved.

“What’s going on Taeil?” You asked on your way to that so called safe place.

“It was a trap.” He opened the door to the staircase. “They made us believe we had control.” He guided You to his office, where he monitored the cameras and gave instructions to his teammates.

“Is Taeyong alright?” He handed you back your gun after locking yourselves in, offering you to take a sit on the small sofa he usually took naps in.

“He’s somewhere around the building, they sent a literal army to take over the place, thankfully we have cameras all over the street, so we were capable of avoiding a bigger catastrophe.” He sat down in front of the monitor, putting on a headset and adjusting the microphone. “Is everyone alright?”

You looked at his face attentively, waiting for a sign that everyone was okay, that Taeyong was okay.

“Let the boss know y/n is here.” From your sitting spot, you could hear someone screaming at the poor man. “She’s safe here with me.” More screaming. “No major injuries, just a few scratches and a cut on her forearm.” You’d completely forgotten about it, now noticing the bleeding wound.

He grew silent for a couple of minutes before taking the headset off and handing it to you.

“He wants to talk to you.” You grabbed it with shaky hands, afraid Taeyong might be mad at you.

“Hello?”

“Who let you out?” His voice was rather preoccupied.

“I climbed down the window.” You admitted shyly. “I was worried about you.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself hurt, y/n.” A few gunshots ran through the other line. “I’m sending Yuta to take care of your wounds. Please, stay with Taeil. You’ll be safe with him.”

“I love you, Tae.” There was no response, he’d already given back the headset to it’s owner.

You gave it back to Taeil as well, your eyes fixed to the floor.

“Don’t worry too much about him, he’ll be more motivated to end the fight now that you’re here.” He unfolded one of the chairs that rested on the wall, offering a sit beside him. “We can watch the cameras together, come on.”

It took about 10 minutes for Yuta to arrive with the first aid kit, greeting you with a hug.

“You shouldn’t have come, y/n.” He commented while taking out a suture needle, apparently the cut was worse than you thought.

“He wasn’t answering any of my calls, I thought maybe something bad had happened. I wanted to help.” Your eyes were still on the screen, watching each and every one of your husband’s movements.

“You’re not helping.” Yuta was known amongst the gang for his brutal honesty. “Right now, he’s only thinking about your well-being, he could get himself killed if he doesn’t focus on the task.” You grew pale as he spoke, flinching slightly as he pierced your skin with the needle.

“That’s enough Yuta, she made a mistake.” Taeil interceded for you, gently stroking your hair to soothe you. “He’s gonna be fine, I’m gonna do my best to help him end this as soon as possible.”

The three of you stayed silent as Taeil looked closely at the screen and Yuta finished suturing your arm.

“Was I too harsh?” You shook your head, holding back the need to cry.

“You were right, I didn’t really think think this through.” He covered the sutured cut with a thick bandage after he was done.

“Call me in two weeks to take off the stitches.” He pinched your cheek in an attempt to make you smile.

“Yes!” Taeil lifted his fist. “They’ve caught the last of them, the boss should be here-” The sound of a key unlocking the door interrupted him.

The door bursted open, your worried husband running towards you. His white dressing shirt was stained with blood, but he seemed to be fine, not a single scratch on his perfect face.

“What were you thinking?” He cupped your cheeks, his face inches away from yours.

“You didn’t call.” Your lower lip trembled. “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t even know if you were still alive.” His features softened, leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve let you know everything was alright, but they caught us off guard.” He kneeled down before you, examining your scratched arms and the big bandage covering the stitches. “This is why I don’t want you to leave the house while I’m away, I hate to see you injured.”

“I’m sorry too, bubu.” The two other men had to hold back their laughter at the silly nickname, but Taeyong found it adorable.

“Are we done?” He asked his teammates.

“Yeah, the boys can take care of the men we captured.” Taeyong nodded, grabbing your hands to make you stand.

“I’ll take her home, I don’t want any of you calling me for the rest of the day.”

The ride home was rather silent, Taeyong holding your hand carefully while he drove the black car. As soon as you arrived to your small home, he instructed you to get inside, probably to scold the guards.

You changed back into your pyjamas, careful not to touch the wound. After washing your face, you went out, finding Taeyong sitting in the bed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, you should go to sleep.”

“Did you fire them?” You straddled his lap, your arms circling his neck. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He pecked your lips, resting his hands on your thighs. “I just gave them a warning. And I’ll make sure to place some guards at the backyard the next time so this little miss can’t come visit me again.” He tickled your tummy playfully, not a single trace of anger left in his voice.

“Thank you.” You nuzzled his nose, his eyes turning into half moons.

“What for? Keeping you prisoner here while I’m away?” He never liked the idea of having you locked inside your own house, but after his enemies found out about you, he had no other choice but to hire guards to keep you safe. He was relieved to find out you weren’t mad at him after he told you about his decision.

“For taking so much care of me.”

“Till death do us part, remember?” You rested your chin on his shoulder, smiling as his hands stroked your back. “Care to join me for a bath?”

“Not at all.”

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Day-to-Day

Chapter 4: Aaron

Words: 5k

Warnings: None

Read over on ao3, or below the cut.

Please let me know what you think <3

December 2009

He’d convinced her to go. Aaron had seen her hesitation as she stood at the front door of their temporary apartment, the twitch in her fingers when Amelia almost immediately reached out for her after Aaron took her. The way she bit her lip when Theo asked her, again, if she really had to go out.

She did have to go, despite how much she would deny it. He knew she needed some time with her friends, and Penelope and JJ had practically begged for a girls night. The 6 months Emily had been gone long and drawn out for all of them. She talked them down to dinner, not wanting to spend too long away from her family that had been so delicately stitched back together. Getting a table at any restaurant so close to Christmas had been difficult, but being the daughter of an ambassador had its advantages, and for once Emily hadn’t been hesitant to use them.

Aaron had sent her on her way with a kiss to her cheek and an assurance that they would be ok without her for a couple of hours.

He was now slightly regretting that decision, but he would never tell her. Their children were feral. Jack was in a mood. His teenage angst was out in full swing this evening, the anger he had experienced shortly after Haley’s death coming back to the forefront in the fallout of the situation with Foyet. He was hiding out in his room, playing a video game and ignoring his father.

Theo was asking where Emily was every few minutes and when she’d be back. He tried to placate his son with his favourite tv show and pizza, and it wouldn’t do. Theo was sitting in the living room, sideways on an armchair as he watched the front door intently. Aaron knew he was going to have to have a conversation with Emily soon about the attachment issues, but it was not the time yet, knowing his wife wouldn’t take it well either. That part of her loved that their son constantly sought her out.

Amelia was cranky. She still didn’t fully trust him, but things were better than they had been when she first shied away from him a few weeks ago. He knows that Emily nursed her before she puts her to bed, that it’s a treasured part of his wifes daily routine, so in the hope that a snack will help he grabs a small yoghurt from the fridge and places her in her high chair.

He feeds her, and although just under half of it ends up on her face, she does calm down a little whilst she is eating. He cleans her up, but she starts fussing again almost immediately.

As soon as Emily walks into the apartment he breathes a sigh of relief. Theo jumps out of the chair and to his mothers side, immediately hugging her.

“Mommy, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She kneels down to hug him properly, kissing the side of his head. She pulls back to look at him, thumb worrying over the now mostly healed cut on his forehead that he had acquired during Aaron’s final showdown with Foyet. She looks over and sees Amelia crying in Aaron’s arms. “It’s late, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll come say goodnight in a bit?”

Theo nods, hugging her again before bounding off, throwing a goodnight aimed at his father as he runs down the hallway.

“You were right.” She says, happiness pouring off of her as she removes her coat and shoes at the door. “I really did need that. Pen kept trying to convince me to drink wine even though I told her I’m still nursing.” She says with a laugh in her voice, she turns to him and the smile slides off her face as she takes in the sight of him, and he realises how stressed he must look.

Ameila tries to turn in his arms at the sound of her mother’s voice and starts to cry harder as she reaches out for Emily. Aaron transfers her with little fanfare, knowing that whatever was wrong with the little girl was something only his wife could fix.

“What's this all about, baby?” Emily says as she holds her daughter tightly, her lips pressed to her forehead as she rocks her. “Has she been like this since I left?” She asks as she looks up at her husband.

“The past hour.” Aaron says, watching as Emily gently bounces Amelia in her arms as she attempts to settle the 11 month old. “I’ve been struggling to calm her down.”

The sympathy on his wifes face makes frustration flood his veins, another reminder of something Foyet had taken from him. His relationship with his daughter was still fragile, the way she was still unsure around him a punch to the gut every time she frantically reached out for her mother. Emily looks at the high chair and frowns when she spots the yoghurt pot still sitting on the tray.

“Did she eat that?” Emily asks, her hand rubbing delicate circles on Amelia’s back.

Aaron looks over before turning back to his wife. “Yeah, she was cranky. They all were. I thought a snack would help tide her over until you got home.”

Emily hesitates. It’s fast, almost undetectable, but he catches it.

“Aaron.” Her voice is soft, gentle in a way that was usually only used on the children when she wanted them to know they weren’t in trouble. “She’s lactose intolerant.”

The memory hits him suddenly. Emily curled up next to him in the hotel room they had stayed in when they were first reunited, filling him in on anything and everything to do with the kids. He remembers her telling him that the doctors had got to the bottom of Amelia’s bad stomach, and that she was dairy free herself because she was still nursing her. She’d lamented missing chocolate and cheese, and joked it was her biggest sacrifice as a mother so far.

“I’m sorry.” He stutters, not sounding like himself as it dawned on him. “I’m sorry.” He repeats as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Aaron, baby, it’s ok.” She says, her hand on his arm. She has Amelia on her hip, one arm securing their grumpy baby to her. “It happens. I should have reminded you before I went out.”

“I should know what my daughter can and cannot eat without being reminded.” He seethes, his anger aimed at himself. He tears his arm from under her hand and takes a couple steps back. He watches as she tries to placate him further, useless reassurances on the tip of her tongue. “I’m going out.”

“Honey-”

“I need some air.” He grabs his keys from the side table and leaves the apartment before she can argue any further, the door closing a little too harshly behind him.

Emily sighs and closes her eyes. Amelia buries her head further into her mothers neck, whining as she did so.

“Oh, sweet girl. I know you feel icky.” She kisses the side of her daughter's head and rubs her back. “Let's go see what your brothers are up to.” She kisses her head again and walks through the apartment in search of her sons. ________________

She feeds and settles Amelia before reading with Theo for a bit, smiling as her son drifts off to sleep against her side. She quietly slips out of his room, well practised at the quick and silent exit, and gently closes his bedroom door. Jack gives her a small wave and a grunt when she pops her head into his room, his grumpiness obvious the second she lays eyes on him.

Emily washes her face, blowing out a breath as she takes in the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Any joy, any relief she felt after spending an evening with her friends had wilted as quickly as it had bloomed in her chest. The lightness that JJ’s laugh, and Penelope’s overly personal questions about Emily and Aaron’s reunion, had brought was torn away by the devastation in her husband's eyes just before he left the apartment.

Everytime they made progress, every step away from what Foyet had done to Aaron, to their family, it felt like they were thrown right back into it. Emily was exhausted. She missed the version of them that had existed before she had come home to find her husband missing and his blood staining their hardwood floor.

She wondered if they’d ever get the old them back, or if they would slowly build something better. Emily was hopeful that the move to the new house would help, that it would give them new foundations. Somehow even stronger than the ones they had before.

She’s finishing up getting ready for bed, pulling her pyjama shirt over her head, when she hears the front door open, and her husband’s familiar steps throughout the apartment. She hears their bedroom door open and close quickly. She takes a deep breath before she walks out of the ensuite and she sees him sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. She sits next to him, purposely keeping her hands to herself despite how much she wants to touch him, to assure him everything was ok. A slight clench in his jaw is the only indicator he has even registered that she's there. She waits him out, knowing he needs to process this himself before he’ll speak to her.

“I should have remembered.” He finally says, removing his head from his hands but not looking at her.

“Aaron-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts, finally looking at her. There are unshed tears in his eyes that make her heart ache. Thoughts about how she could find a way to bring George Foyet back to life just so she could kill him herself burning through her.

“Don’t what?”

“Tell me that it’s ok. Because it isn’t.” He shakes his head at himself. “I gave our little girl…” His voice falters and he clears his throat. “I gave her something that’s made her sick.”

“And so did I.” She reasons, and she grabs his hand. “For the first almost 5 months of her life she was getting it through my breast milk. You did it once. Give yourself a break.”

“I should have remembered.” He says, repeating himself.

“Baby.” She says, moving her hands to grasp his cheeks. “Please stop this. She’s going to be ok. She is ok. She’s fast asleep next door.” She leans her forehead against his, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “We’re all ok.”

He starts to cry, sobs escaping him that he hadn’t set free since their ordeal had ended. Emily had been waiting for it as he processed everything at his own pace. She pulls him towards her, his head resting on her chest as she wraps her arms tightly around him, one hand in his hair as she presses fierce kisses to the top of his head.

“I’m right here.” She kisses the top of his head again, unsurprised when she can feel her own tears on her face. “You’re ok. I’m here.”

She comforts him like she does their children. With tender words and soft touches, the whispering of nonsense against his hair as he slowly calms. The grip he has on the back of her shirt loosens ever so slightly.

Aaron sniffs as he pulls back, a shaky smile on his face as she wipes his tears away with her thumbs.

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, his voice cracked and torn open by the months of repressed emotion he had let out against her skin.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Emily says tenderly. “I’m your wife. This is what I’m here for.”

Amelia’s cry through the baby monitor visibly undoes some of the work she had done in calming him down, some tension returning to his shoulders. Emily kisses his cheek before she stands up.

“You get ready for bed, I’ll go see what's up with her.” She says just before leaving the room, crossing the hallway into the small bedroom serving as Amelia’s temporary nursery. Most of the baby's things are boxed up ready for the move to the new house. Emily smiles as she approaches the crib, Amelia already standing with her arms reaching out for her. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

She picks up her daughter, settling her on her hip as she kisses the side of her head. Amelia almost immediately settles, her crying quietening down as she presses her face into her mother’s neck.

“You just wanted to cuddle, huh?” Emily says, pacing the small room. “I think your dad could do with a cuddle too.”

Emily walks back into their bedroom to find it empty, but the tap running in the ensuite calms any nerves that he had left again. She settles into bed and lays Amelia on her chest, the baby snuggling down, her fingers grasping at her mother’s shirt.

When Aaron leaves the ensuite he falters slightly at the sight in front of him. Emily catches it, the small hesitation before he climbs into bed. Amelia is already half asleep, the discomfort she had been in when Aaron last saw her gone, and Emily watches the tension leave him as he sees with his own eyes that the baby is ok.

“See, she’s fine.” Emily says, smiling at him as he lays down next to them.

He kisses the top of Amelia’s head, which makes her open her eyes. She reaches out for him and he carefully takes her to settle her against his own chest. Emily smiles as she moves to be closer to them, her head resting on Aaron’s chest next to their daughter. He presses a kiss to the top of his wifes head.

“My girls.”

“Yeah.” She replies. “Your girls.” ________________

April 2021

Aaron sighs in frustration as his phone rings, distracting him from his lesson plans. Emily often teased him for his interpretation of retirement, the profiling classes he taught at the academy taking up a fair amount of his time. He turns from his computer to pick up his cell phone, frowning when he sees a number he doesn’t recognise as he answers.

“An inmate at the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville, New York is calling you, to accept the charges please press one.” An automated voice says through the phone.

The name of the prison makes him freeze, there is only one person he knew who was in prison in New York. He presses one and puts the phone back to his ear, waiting for the call to connect.

“Aaron?” He hears down the phone, the voice on the other end of the tinny line was unsure, nerves easily showing through.

“Sean?” ________________

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and the next thing he is truly aware of is the front door opening, Amelia and Theo bursting in, both of them animatedly talking about their days.

“Hi Dad.” Theo says as he passes through the kitchen where Aaron is sitting, grabbing a snack and leaving the room almost immediately. “I’ve got loads of homework, back in a bit.”

“Hi Theo.” He says, a small smile on his face as his ever studious 18 year old is already out of the room, his mind clearly on whatever work he was assigned that day.

“Dad, do we have any antacids?” Amelia asks as she joins him in the kitchen, grimacing as she walks in with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, frowning, pulling her into a quick hug she only protests slightly as she walks past.

“Yeah, just a bad stomach.”

Before he can ask any more questions the front door opens again, and Emily’s voice soon follows.

“Hi.”

“We’re in the kitchen, Em.”

She joins them, a wide smile on her face as she kisses his cheek.

“Everything ok?”

“Everything is fine.” Amelia answers far too quickly.

“Mills has a stomach ache.” Aaron says, and he can’t help but smirk at the way she narrows her eyes at him.

“Traitor.”

“Amelia.” Emily says, her hand gently grasping her daughter's chin to tilt her head, sighing when she sees the hives on her neck. “You had the cheese fries for lunch again didn’t you?”

The 12 year old sighs, knowing lying to her mother, to either of her parents, is pointless. “Yes.”

“Baby, you’re lactose intolerant.” Emily chastises as she tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear.

“Mom, it's cheese fries. Totally worth it.”

Emily sighs, knowing that the slight grimace on her daughter's face is nothing to do with her rebuke, but the discomfort she knows she is in.

“There is some Pepto in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Go take some and go lie down.”

Amelia smiles gratefully and starts to make her way out of the room before she turns back. “I’m not going to find anything gross in there am I?”

“Amelia.”

“What?” She says, throwing her hands up. “I’ve caught you guys making out way too many times not to check. I’ve been burned before.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at her. “Go. Now.”

“I’m going.” Amelia says as she leaves the room, something a bit too close to a curse word muttered under her breath.

“That girl will be the death of me.” Emily says as she turns to Aaron, his silence throughout her exchange with their daughter, the lack of quips about how similar they were, now only striking her as odd as she takes in the look on his face. His gaze fixed in the distance, not focused on anything in particular. She frowns and takes a step closer to him, placing her hand over his on the counter. “Honey, are you ok?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sean called me.”

Emily doesn’t cover her shock, her hand tightening over his. It had been years since they had heard from Sean. The supposed truce the brothers had come to in New York, when a rare family vacation had turned into a case, had fallen apart as soon as Sean was formally sentenced. Aaron had tried reaching out at the beginning, attempting to visit his brother, but it had always been radio silence on the other side.

Over time he stopped trying, his attempts at calling Sean getting further apart. His requests to go see him stopped. To anyone else it would look like Aaron had accepted it, that he simply was no longer going to be a part of his brother's life. Emily knew better than that.

“What?”

“He called from prison. He wants me to go see him.”

“Oh.” She replies, taking a second before she joins him at the kitchen island, linking their fingers together properly as she settles next to him on one of the stalls. “Are you ok?”

“I think so.” He answers, looking at her, uncertainty all over his face despite his answer. “No.”

Emily places her spare hand on his thigh. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to see him.”

She nods, squeezing his leg in comfort. “Then we’ll go.” She smiles when he turns to look at her, his brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to come with me, it’s fine. I know work is busy.”

“Aaron.” She replies firmly, leaving no room for argument as she moves her hand from his leg to cup his cheek. “I’m coming with you.”

“What about the kids?”

“We’ll be gone one night. Theo is sensible enough to look after Amelia, and Jack lives 20 minutes away if they need him.” She pulls him towards her for a kiss. “Stop arguing with me, it never gets you anywhere.”

His lips twitch, a brief smile taking over. “You think I would have learnt that by now.” _______________

It takes a couple of weeks for them to get things lined up, so that the quick trip to New York wouldn’t disrupt their day-to-day lives too drastically.

Amelia was unimpressed when they told her that Theo was in charge, rolling her eyes at the thought that she needed babysitting, but when they come to leave her attitude fades when she sees how stressed her father was, how on edge he seems as he checks they have everything before they set off on their drive.

She doesn’t remember her Uncle Sean, she had only met him once when she was 3, and she knew enough from what her brothers and parents had told her about that trip to New York to know why she had never seen him again. Another seemingly life changing moment they went through as a family that she had no memory of, relying on hearsay from her brothers and the toned down version she knew her parents told her.

“Please behave for your brother, Amelia.” Emily says as she hugs her daughter.

“I always behave.” She replies, rolling her eyes when she sees her mother raise her eyebrow. “Ok fine, I’ll be good.”

Aaron hugs her next, and Amelia doesn’t miss how he holds her a little tighter than usual. She hugs him back, smiling when he kisses her forehead as they pull apart.

She feels bad for her dad, knowing how much he values his family tells her how much it would hurt him to not be in touch with his brother. Amelia considers how it would feel to not be speaking to Jack or Theo, and despite how much they both annoy her frequently the idea makes her heart clench.

“Call if you need anything, ok?” Aaron says and Amelia nods before pulling him back into a hug.

“I love you, Daddy.” She says, using the moniker she dropped a couple years ago and it makes her chest fill with happiness when he smiles into the top of her head.

“Love you too, Amelia.” ________________

The drive is long, and quiet, and by the time they pull up to the prison Emily is grateful to see it. Aaron had insisted on driving and she’d let him, knowing it would ultimately be worse for him to not be occupied on the trip here. She was planning on taking over when they left for their drive back to the city, but she hadn’t mentioned it yet, knowing that he would already try and argue that point.

They get through security and are shown to the visiting room. They take a seat next to each other and Emily turns to him, trying to read her husband’s face.

“Are you ok?”

He chuckles. “Ask me later.”

A buzzer sounds and a door opens, prisoners walking out and greeting their family and friends. Towards the back is Sean. Emily thinks of the first time she met him. He wasn’t much older than Amelia was now, and already damaged by the things he had been exposed to in his young life. She remembers how he had been nervous around her, a crush on her that he barely concealed.

“Aaron, Emily.” He says as he makes it to the table. Aaron stands and hugs him, and then Emily does the same.

“Sean, how are you?” Aaron asks as they sit down.

“As good as I can be considering I’ve been here nearly 10 years.” He says, his eyes fixed on his brother. He looks at them both. “You guys have hardly changed. How are the kids?”

“I have a picture.” Aaron says, pulling out his wallet and removing the photo of his family that he keeps in there. It was taken on Emily and Theo’s birthday the year before, her 50th and his 18th, all five of them and Sara together and smiling. It was one of his favourites. He slides it across the table to let his brother look at it.

“Wow, they look grown up.”

“It’s been a long time.” Aaron says, the conversation stilted. The awkwardness cloying, making the air around the table feel thick.

“Jack is 28 now, and married. That’s his wife, Sara, in the picture with us” Emily says, trying to break the tension. “Theo is 18 and Amelia is 12.”

Aaron is staring at his brother, profiling him as he listens to Emily talk about the kids. He watches as she explains that Jack is a resident at Georgetown, and that Theo was going to Cornell in the fall. He watches as his brother listens to her stories about Amelia, their wild thing of a daughter who kept them both on their toes. He recognises his brother's expression, it’s one he perfected when they were young, a way to get what he wanted from their mother. It clicks in his head, and he wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner.

“What do you want Sean?” He asks, interrupting the conversation between his wife and brother.

“Aaron-” Emily begins to say, uncertainty in her voice.

“He wants something. That's why he asked me to come here.” He looks back at his brother, and Sean chuckles slightly.

“You don’t miss anything do you? I’m up for parole soon.” Sean explains. “My lawyer said it would be good to have someone upstanding talk at my hearing, and I don’t know anyone more upstanding than you.”

“You want me to talk at your parole hearing? That’s why you got in touch?”

Emily feels how tense her husband gets next to her, the disappointment he clearly feels at Sean only getting in touch because he needed something palpable. She grabs his hand under the table, providing the best support she can in the moment. He lightly squeezes her hand in a silent thank you.

“Yeah. I told my lawyer what you do for a living and he said it was perfect.” Sean says, missing the way his brother sighs, the brief closing of his eyes as he tries to cover his disappointment. “So will you?”

“Of course.” Aaron replies, clearing his throat as he does. “Get your lawyer to send me the details.” He turns to Emily. “Excuse me for a second.”

He gets up and walks towards the bathroom. Emily turns her attention back to her brother-in-law.

“Are you kidding me, Sean?” She says, exasperated.

“What?” Sean asks, his face screwed up in confusion.

“It’s been 9 years.” She explains. “9 years and you reach out because you want something.”

“It’s thanks to him that I’m in here in the first place.”

“You know that’s not true, Sean.” Emily implores, and she stares at him until he relents and nods. “He’ll do it for you because he’s your brother and he loves you. But when you get out you will work on your relationship with him. I won’t let you use him for this and then disappear from our lives again.”

“Are you...threatening me, Emily?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at her in a way that reminded her of Aaron.

“Very much so.” She says seriously, before she smiles. “I’d also like you to get to know my kids better.”

“I’d like that too.” ________________

When they get to their hotel in the city he barely looks around the suite they have for the night before he goes into the bathroom. Emily sighs as she puts her bag down and goes to the mini bar, grabbing a drink for each of them.

She feels his arms wrap around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favourite wife?”

‘I’m your only wife.” She chuckles, turning to give him his drink.

“That works out well then.” He leans down and kisses her. “Thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She cups his neck, and strokes her thumb over his jawline. “My place has always been by your side.” Emily kisses him quickly. “Lets go sit down.”

She leads him over to the couch in the room, leaning against him as they get comfortable. They sit in silence for a while, having their drinks whilst his fingers trail up and down her arm.

“I let him down.” Aaron says eventually, making Emily turn to look at him, a curious look on her face. “Sean. I’ve been letting him down since we were kids.”

“Honey, you know that's not true.”

“It is. I left when he was young, I left him in that house with the ghost of our father and our shell of a mother.” He says bitterly, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Emily stares at him for a second before she takes his glass out of hand and places it with hers on the table next to the couch. She settles herself over his lap, straddling him in a way that makes him raise an eyebrow and place his hands on her hips. She cups his face in both her hands.

“Listen to me, Aaron. You are not to blame for any of this. You were a kid yourself, Theo’s age, and you wanted to start your own life. You are not responsible for your parents and what they did or didn’t do. Or for the decisions that Sean has made that has led him to where he is.” She looks directly into his eyes, looking for some understanding or agreement. “Ok?”

“Ok.” He nods his agreement, and she can tell he isn’t completely convinced, but it’s enough to placate her for now.

She still wants to cheer him up, so she changes tactics, moving her hands so she’s cupping the back of his head instead before she leans down to kiss him. She presses herself closer to him, signalling her intent, she smiles against his lips when he pulls her closer, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Let's go to bed.” She says, slightly breathless as she pulls away.

“I like the way you think, Mrs Hotchner.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #family fluff #WTB Universe #ITSWM #Day-to-Day #they love each other #Amelia is a chaos demon change my mind #sorry for the delay on this one besties #my anxiety has been extra spicy lately

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