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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

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nightclub ∗ eo

summary: in which you and your ex, lizzie, catch up in a nightclub bathroom.

words: 5.1K

warnings: top!lizzie, bottom!reader, fem!reader, angst if you squint, strap (r receiving), lots of french kissing, alcohol, really nasty fucking, there may be errors bc i was so feverish writing this

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

The neon blue and purple lights blinded you as you stepped into the club. Loud, pulsing music boomed in your ears as you inhaled the scent of alcohol and mixtures of over-drenched perfumes on the bodies of the crowd of people dancing. It was a warm room compared to the cool, spring night air.

Your friends had goaded you to come to the club tonight. It was a VIP establishment, made apparent by the celebrities and people of notoriety that you had already spotted in the large, luxurious club. Lizzie’s friends were your friends, and as such, you were invited to the after party for the Love and Death premiere even though you hadn’t talked to Lizzie in months. Whatever you had together fizzled away after an accumulation of arguments and misunderstandings. Lizzie was a slippery fish to catch, and you didn’t have the strength or energy to catch her. It was depressing.

They vowed to you that she wouldn’t be there tonight, which you believed independently from their promises because Lizzie never came to these kinds of things. You knew she would attend the primary premiere party earlier in the afternoon across town, but this kind of late-night event was never her thing. Your friends wanted you there not to celebrate her show, but to just be there with them after hiding yourself away for so long.

Still, walking through the crowd, you couldn’t help but dart your eyes around to catch a familiar blonde head or recognizable green eyes. You thought you heard her voice at one moment but realized it was a stranger talking that just so happened to sound like her. It was dizzying, knowing that there was a slight possibility she would be there, that you would face her after everything and face all the words that were left unsaid after your parting.

Relief washed over you when you found your group of friends nearby, who spotted you and waved you over. “Y/n!” they greeted you, giving you extra tight hugs and prolonged greetings.

You were wearing a thin little black dress, strapless at the chest and fading into a sheer skirt that rested above your knees. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was sexy enough to grant you leering looks from various people around. The validation soothed you, if you admitted it.

Your friends, donned in the purple hue of the club lights, knew they had to ease you into the night. They huddled around you in an area of white couches, ordering drinks after drinks and just catching up on life, as much as you could catch their voices amidst the music and voices. A few women and men approached you within the first hour, asking for a dance or to buy you a drink, which you politely declined each time although your friends tried to peer pressure you into accepting them. As recovered as you were, you just weren’t ready for a new stranger yet. You needed the comfort of your friends, of familiar places and familiar voices.

It had been hard to avoid Lizzie the past week, with the billboards and videos promoting the show, but you had managed well enough. Seeing her in a picture or video wasn’t enough anymore to evoke feelings within you, good or bad. She was a stranger now. Just another face you knew in a past life.

In due time, you and your friends mingled onto the dance floor. You were never much of a dancer, but several shots were enough to make you relax and dance to the music. It was freeing, moving your body to the music so loud it drowned out any thoughts your mind could formulate. Your friends danced all around you, holding onto each other, pairing up, sometimes letting a stranger come in and dance with you, grabbing at you, making unwanted advances that you declined by giggling and dancing away back to your friends. Somehow, more alcohol got in your system—some of your friends might have went back to the bar. You were at the perfect sweet spot now, aware and coherent, but relaxed and euphoric.

In a matter of an hour, you desperately needed to sit down and breathe for a minute. Your friends were relentless engines, staying on the dance floor while you struggled through the crowd, elbowing through until you arrived back to the couches and plopped down, catching your breath. You ordered a glass of ice water and chugged it, putting the chilled glass against your hot forehead so you could cool down.

“Taking a breather?” a man’s voice asked, and you looked up to see a guy your age standing in front of you, holding a drink.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled, wiping the condensation from the glass away from your forehead. “Dancing is tiring.”

He chuckled, and you could hardly see his face under the purple and blue lights. “Well, I was going to ask you to dance, but I guess would it be okay if I took a breather with you?”

You hesitated, setting the glass down and reaching down to your heels that were aching your feet. “Um…” You glanced across to the crowd of dancers, trying to point out where your friends were. You couldn’t see them, but you knew they were close enough because you could hear one of your friends’ goofy laughter. “I don’t know, I think my friends will be coming over soon.”

You didn’t feel like meeting anybody new, or making small conversation that would be pointless by the next morning.

“You sure? I could buy you a drink.” He had a friendly demeanor to him, and he wasn’t being exactly pushy, but you would’ve appreciated it if he just got the hint and moved on.

You smiled politely and waved your hand in the air. “No thanks.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, laughing and casually tucking his hand into his pocket. “Just one drink. Hey.” He lifted his hands in the air. “I’m a nice guy.”

You could have barfed on him right there. Instead, you just sighed and said, “Look, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Or I could get you another water,” he insisted, and you started to feel anxious in your stomach. You glanced back over to the crowd and tried to find your friends, but you couldn’t, and this guy stepped in front of your view. You looked up at him, getting nervous at how close he was now. You tried to think of some other way to reject him, still not wanting to be rude or harsh even though you were getting irritated. Your friend’s laughter was not in earshot anymore, and there was no else in this corner of the club—until your eyes saw someone walking towards you.

She came through the crowd of people almost like a mirage. Even from far away, under the dark purple and blue lights, her eyes shone like glittering moons, the lights casting off the sculpted heights of her face that you could still remember leaving kisses on. Her lips were pursed in neither a smile nor a frown, eyes fixated on you as she floated towards you.

She was wearing a beige suit, as per usual, and your heart broke a little at seeing that her hair was longer now. It went right past her shoulders, effortlessly styled into sandy blonde waves. She was holding a martini as she came and stood beside the man.

The guy noticed that you were staring right past him, so he turned around and jumped upon seeing Lizzie standing there like a statue behind him. “Oh,” he said, and it was obvious that he instantly recognized her. His mouth formed the word, “You’re—” before he stopped and looked back to you. “Oh, my bad.” He must have just then recognized you from old paparazzi pictures. “I’m so sorry.” He looked at Lizzie, whose eyes darted at him as she tightly smiled, and he practically scurried away.

Your throat felt tight as you looked up at her, every inch of you turning into stone as if she had Medusa’s glare. It became hard to breathe suddenly, and your face burned like molten lava.

“Hey,” she said so casually, her pursed lips pinching into a half-smile.

“Hi,” you whispered, knowing that she definitely couldn’t hear your meek voice over the loud music, but she knew what you said, anyway.

“Can I sit?” She gestured to the cushion beside you, but you felt like you were about to pass out. You faintly nodded, so she walked over, taking a seat on the cushion beside you. It was a respectable distance, but you could feel the cushion dip with her weight, so you scooted over a little. She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she leaned forward and sat her martini down on the table.

Her perfume struck you like a bolt of lightning. That sweet nostalgic smell that you had breathed in so many times, that had stuck to your clothes for weeks after you stopped talking, that you sometimes picked up in the air at random times and in random places, and it always brought back a rushing flood of memories that pained you. You turned your head, pretending to just scratch your nose as you tried to rid your sense of her beautiful but painful scent. It was overwhelmingly suffocating for you.

“I didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” her velvety voice spoke loudly over the music. “When I saw you across the room, I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Yeah, me too,” you mumbled, leaning forward and grabbing one of your friends’ half-empty drink and downing the rest of it. You could hear Lizzie take a sharp breath as she realized what you were drinking for.

“You didn’t expect me to be here tonight? At the party for my own show?” she asked with an edge of humor in her voice. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look over at her.

“You were never one for appearances.” You cleared your throat and wiped your nose again, trying to look anywhere else but her. There were a silent few moments where you could feel her looking at you. God, you hated how her gaze still made you feel like you were under the only beam of sun in the whole world, how it burned through the side of your face and made your nerve endings go crazy.

“You look beautiful tonight,” she said softer, and finally, you looked at her. She was sitting towards you, her legs crossed, hands clasped at her lap. No matter how calm she looked in the face, how much she could tame the ocean of emotions in her eyes, Lizzie’s hands always told her truth. They were fiddling with the ring on her thumb, twisting it around and around. It was funny how she did that without even realizing, and you’d seen her do it probably a thousand times.

“You do, too,” you whispered. She looked magnificent. Her skin was glowing, her eyes were complimented by her dark makeup, her hair looked perfect. She smiled softly, that familiar dimple forming in her cheeks.

A few more beats of silence ensued, but you kept your eyes on her, focusing on keeping your breathing slow and steady.

“I missed you,” she mouthed, and you could only hear the faintest sounds of her voice strings cracking.

“You didn’t miss me until you saw me just now,” you blurted, unsure if it was the alcohol or time between you making you so honest.

Her perfect eyebrows sewed together. “That’s not true.” Her hands stopped fiddling. “I have—I miss you every day.”

It felt impossible to keep looking at her—because you knew she was being truthful. With every second you saw that beautiful face, your breath left you more. You tore your eyes away and stared mindlessly at the table, rubbing your nose again to get her perfume out of your scent.

“Hey,” she said softly, to get you to look at her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. “Y/n.” You felt her scoot closer to you on the couch, her knee touching yours. “Look at me, baby.” That single word wrenched your stomach into such painful knots you almost doubled over.

“Don’t call me that!” you blurted, finally facing her. She looked taken aback at first, but she eased in, reaching out for your face. Her gentle, soft hand cupped your chin, and it instantly eased you. It was one of her old tricks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning in so close she only had to whisper for you to hear her. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I wanted to, but I didn’t know… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

Her eyes trailed over your face, her other hand slinking across the back of the couch so that she had you completely in her corner. Her knee was still touching yours. You caught the slightest twitch of a smirk on her lips as her thumb grazed over your chin, the very edge of it catching your lip so lightly you could hardly feel it. Her touch, her simple touch, soothed your heart. You had missed it, you had missed her so much that you felt imbued with a vibrating energy at seeing her now, at feeling her hand on your face.

“Lizzie—”

“Did I tell you that you look so beautiful tonight?” she cut you off, her lips curling further into a smirk like a cat’s tail. Her eyes were trained on your mouth, and this time her thumb rubbed your lower lip and bent it down a little. Her irises, tinted by the club lights, were flooded by her widening pupils. You wanted to crawl inside there, to drown inside those shiny emerald pools.

“You did,” you remarked, not helping the little smile on your lips.

She touched your lip again, biting her own. There was no air between you now, only her minty breath fanning on your buzzing lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Your immediate thought was yes. Lizzie was irresistible to you. She exuded comfort and seduction in the same beat. There was an undeniable magnetic field between the two of you that drew you together any time you were near each other. That you learned in the very beginning when you first met her and tried to resist her. You just knew that Lizzie was going to be that one ex you went back to time and time again. There was no stopping it, no defying gravity, so you nodded. You would always be hers, anyway.

Lizzie leaned forward and let her lips graze yours, pausing to breathe the same breath, her nose nestled against yours, eyelashes tickling the tops of your cheeks. Finally, she closed in, holding your chin as she kissed you. It was more overwhelming than her perfume. It was gentle, as she always was at first. It was pure and nostalgic, a sort of intimate greeting. Then it grew hotter, and so did your skin. Her lips moved eagerly against yours, tongue teasing your lower lip but not going in. The sound of her breaths getting faster twisted a knot in your stomach, dizzying you in her poisonous kiss as her hand landed on your mid-thigh. You grabbed at her shoulder, letting out a small whine that seemed to break her from her trance.

Lizzie broke from the kiss with a gasp, moving her open mouth to your neck as she caught her breath, her upper body leaning against you now. The air around you was electric as she breathed against your neck, your hand weakly holding onto the shoulder of her blazer.

After a few moments, she pulled away from your neck, looking at you with inebriated eyes. Her mouth half-smiled, the tip of her tongue rolling against the back of her teeth as she stared down at your now puffy lips.

“Dance with me,” she huskily demanded, grabbing your hand and standing up.

You could barely get a hold of yourself as she pulled you up from the couch and led you to the dance floor, realizing that a simple kiss from her had made your knees weak and legs wobbly.

Almost forgetting that you were in a club with dozens of people, you felt shocked by all the bodies that Lizzie led you through until she found an open spot on the floor. Turning to you, she yanked you closer to her by the hand.

The music playing was sultry now, with deep, throbbing bass and incoherent yet sensual lyrics. Lizzie’s hands held your hips as you started to move in rhythm with the beat.

“You’re just as demanding as I remember,” you said into her ear so she could hear you. She only sucked her cheeks and squeezed your hips, keeping you tight against her.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember,” she said back, to which you playfully rolled your eyes.

“That’s the third time tonight. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love my praise.”

You eyed her competitively as she smirked, tonguing her cheek deviously.

For a few moments, it was just you, Lizzie, and the music. You looked into each other’s eyes, somehow silently speaking all the words you wanted to say with them. There was no more distance between your bodies, and your arms wrapped around her shoulders as she guided you against her. You and Lizzie didn’t have to speak to have a conversation.

Your body grew hot when she leaned down and nosed her way through your hair to start kissing your neck. The room grew darker and warmer as you felt her suck on your neck, right on the sweet spot she knew you had. Your hand trailed up to her hair, tangling itself in those soft, delicate waves. She was all over you now, consuming you like wildfire. Her kisses grew wet and hard as she trailed them up to your mouth before kissing you again on the lips, biting your lower one and piercing it with her teeth before releasing it. You gasped and kissed her again, just as eagerly as she was.

Lizzie’s hands trailed around your hips, her rings rubbing into your flesh as she grabbed hard at your ass, pushing your hips into her. It was then you felt that she was packing, and through the desire that throbbed through you, you wondered if she knew you would be there tonight or if she had packed for some random stranger she was expecting to take home. Either way, you grinded into her, feeling the vibrations of her growl against your mouth. Her body grew rigid for a moment, pressing desperately close to you, her hand crawling up the center of your back and up your neck until she grabbed your hair and turned you around, pulling you against her from behind.

“Lizzie!” you exclaimed as she pinned you against her, her hand crawling up your throat and gently holding it. The music, the lights, her touch, her voice—it was all just too much. She grabbed your hips and grinded you against her, her piece rubbing right into you.

Her lips came to your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. “I want you, y/n.”

She was bunching your skirt up so she could touch your thigh, grabbing and clawing at it. You hoped to God no one was filming anywhere near, or else the Internet would explode with pictures of Elizabeth Olsen and her ex y/n practically dry humping in a club.

“I need you,” she growled again, her body pressed hot and close against yours so that you were starting to break a sweat. “Please.” She kissed sweetly at your neck, hands on your hips loosening their grip so that she wouldn’t come off as too coercing.

Turning around to look at her, you tugged at the collar of her blazer, watching the absorptive lust in her eyes that was obviously becoming too much for her to bare. Biting your lip, you smirked and nodded.

The door to the club bathroom was practically kicked open as Lizzie burst through it, dragging you in behind her. There were also purplish blue neon lights in the single bathroom that was extremely small and a little dingy for being a respectable establishment. You could still hear the muffled music from inside the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed, Lizzie forcefully pushed you against it. The force of your back hitting the door knocked the breath out of you, but she was on you, grabbing your face and kissing you harshly. Her hand trailed down to reach beside you and lock the door.

“You can’t wear things like this,” Lizzie growled, breaking the kiss to look down at your sheer skirt, grabbing two fistfuls of it and pushing it up your hips so she could see your thighs and the little lacey panties you were wearing under it.

“You don’t like it?” you husked, turned on at the way she was looking up your skirt while biting her lip hard.

“It’s something I would’ve never let you wear out alone,” she murmured, looking back up at you as she reached one hand between your legs, cupping your pussy. “It’s just too fucking hot.”

Gasping, you grabbed at her blazer as she started wildly kissing your face and neck, and you could already feel your makeup melting off.

Moving your panties to the side, she pressed her fingers through your folds, instantly moaning at how wet you were. “Fuck, y/n.” The curse sounded like pure sex dripping from her lips.

Leaning forward, you dove your mouth to her neck and started biting her soft skin, inhaling a concentrated scent of her perfume where she had applied it to her pressure point. You almost couldn’t believe she was real, that this was your Lizzie pinning you to a club bathroom door, her hand up your skirt and in your panties.

“I can’t take it,” she whined, grabbing you and moving you to the adjacent wall, pushing you up against it, making sure her hand was cradling the back of your head as she pinned you to the wall.

Lizzie’s breaths were ragged as she fumbled at your panties, ripping them down your legs and kicking them to the side with her heels. She grabbed at your bare pussy, coming back in for another hot and heavy kiss on the mouth. You struggled to breathe, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and trying to meet the force with which she was kissing. She was becoming desperate and needy for you, her tongue shoving its way through your lips and settling into your mouth. She grabbed your face with her free hand and tilted it so she could press her tongue further into your mouth, the tip tickling the back of your throat as she devoured your mouth and moaned into it. Her hand massaged at your clit, relishing all the wetness between your legs that she knew was all for her.

“Fuck,” she cursed again, pulling away from the kiss to catch her breath, your mouths moistened with each other’s. Pressing her face into your hair and inhaling, she reached down to her belt with her free hand.

Desire throbbed through your feverish body, feeling like Lizzie’s presence had sobered you up and then got you drunk again. She tugged harshly at her pants, practically ripping them open and reaching in to take out her strap. She licked her lips and breathed heavily through her mouth as she looked down for a moment. She paused before suddenly wrapping her arm around your butt and lifting you up, causing you to shriek and hook your legs around her hips. She pressed you against the wall, keeping you completely stuck between it and her, her mouth on yours again.

“Lizzie,” you breathed, feeling dizzy at the passion frenzied in the air between you.

Upon hearing you say her name, she stopped, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other holding her cock. She looked up at you with as clear vision as she could through her tainted desire. “Can I? Please?”

You put a hand to the back of her head, tangling your fingers through her hair. Of course, you wanted her to, but you had never seen her quite so desperate for you like this in a long time, and you wanted to draw it out.

“Please,” she repeated, leaning down to bite at your shoulder. She was pressing you so hard against the wall you could barely breathe, let alone move. If she wanted to, she would.

“Please what?” you asked innocently, as if she wasn’t standing there holding her strap towards you in anticipation.

Her eyes flickered up to you, shadowed under the dim neon lighting. “Please let me fuck you,” she begged, nipping at your lips and kissing all over your face, pressing harder into you. “Please, please, please.”

You didn’t want to cut her off while she was hot, so you dug your nails into her back and whispered, “Yes.”

She nearly gasped when you said it, her teeth sinking hard into your neck and making you cry out. However needy she was before, it was even worse now as she tore into your skin and steadied herself, lining the tip of her strap with your entrance and guiding it inside you all at once with one forceful snap of her hips.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, knowing no one outside would hear you through the music and the thick walls.

“Fuck, fuck,” Lizzie cursed against your neck, adjusting you so that your legs were wrapped tight around her and you were locked between her and the wall. Grabbing at your skirt again, she yanked it up around your hips and held them as she withdrew her hips and then thrust them forward again.

To be honest, you hadn’t been with anyone since her, which you wouldn’t tell her because you knew there was an element of jealousy in the air at the thought that either of you might have been with other people, and Lizzie always packed large. Your eyes squeezed shut as she thrust herself into you hard and fast, giving you no time to adjust.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she exclaimed against your shoulder, her hands moving to your ass and grabbing it hard as she fucked you against the wall.

Keeping your ankles hooked behind her, you tried to spread your thighs wider so it would be easier, but even with that and how wet you were, she was just too big and you were too tight.

“Lizzie, slow down,” you pleaded, grabbing at her blazer and leaning your head back against the wall so you could breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking up at you and kissing your jaw gently. She listened as best as she could, slowing down her thrusts, but it was obvious she couldn’t help how hard she snapped her hips each time.

After a few moments, you started to adjust, and she started to lose control again, and the searing pain faded away into unfiltered, throbbing pleasure. You grabbed needily at her as she hammered into you, the strap moving just right against her own clit that she started to moan into your neck.

“I’ve missed your pussy, fuck,” she grunted, and the dirtiness of your words made you realize the dirtiness of the situation. How she was fucking you wildly and desperately, pinned up against the wall, in the club bathroom under neon lights, after having just seen her for the first time in months only some twenty minutes ago.

There was no space between you, only as much as she would allow to withdraw her hips between each thrust, and you thought that Lizzie might crush you to death against that wall.

“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, fucking into you even harder as her heavy breaths filled your ear. You turned your head to kiss at the side of her face, trying to soothe her. It only drew her attention to your mouth, because she turned and caught your lips with her own, shoving her tongue down your throat again. The sound of your head hitting the wall caught her attention, so she lifted one hand away from your ass to cradle the back of your head. You were helpless, pinned mercilessly there against the wall, and all your senses being filled with Lizzie was building a pressure in the pit of your belly. She was so deep inside you, stretching you out, kissing you so hard and deep, your body was overwhelmed.

In an instant, your orgasm crashed over you, walls squeezing around her cock as you practically screamed into her mouth, her moans mixing with yours. You trembled, knowing that if she wasn’t keeping you against that wall with her own body and strength, you would’ve slid right to the floor.

You could tell Lizzie was close, but she was not stopping as she chased her own high, fucking you through your orgasm and making another one quickly build behind it. You were a melted puddle in her arms now, weak and overstimulated, stretched out and used.

Lizzie finally pulled away from your mouth, instead choosing to occupy her mouth with biting your shoulder. “Fuck,” she groaned, her thrusts getting sloppy and unhinged. Her hand on your ass was digging her nails into your flesh and undoubtedly leaving bruises, but you didn’t care. You wanted her to cum.

“Cum for me, Lizzie,” you whispered, scratching at her warm back underneath the blazer. “Cum for me.”

She did, fucking harder into you than before, crushing you so hard against the wall that your back ached and you could barely breathe. You held onto her, holding her head as she trembled and shook and moaned against you for several moments until finally she sighed, putting some pressure off you so you could breathe again. It took her several minutes to come down, and you stroked her hair every minute of it, kissing her cheek as she nuzzled her nose into your hair for comfort.

Finally, she pulled away and looked at you, her makeup smudged and hair wild, with a gleam of sweat on her forehead. “Holy fuck,” she whispered, looking down as she carefully pulled out of you, noticing the way you winced a little. She tucked her strap away and buckled her belt, gently setting you down on the floor. You could feel how bad your back ached now, and how weak your legs were. Knees buckling, you hooked an arm around her shoulder, and she held you up against her, grinning down at you devilishly.

“God, I missed you.”

“Will you pick my underwear off the floor, please?”

#elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x fem!reader #lesbian #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader

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marvelnatswhore · 11 months

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Rainy days

Natasha romanoff X reader~hurt/comfort

Request: hey, i was wondering if u are taking any request for nat x female r... if u are, can u please make a story even just a short one about r having one of those days where she doesn't wanna get out of bed and like really drained because r has depression and nat, her girlfriend, comforts her? thank you so much. <3

A/N: I’m so so sorry I didn’t do this sooner i know you requested september last year and I have no idea if you’ll even see this but thank you for the request, I lost this awhile ago but i really liked this prompt so thank you <3

and sorry this is short

Warnings: mentions of depression

wc: 870

✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧

“Morning.” Natasha said in a low yawn, having just woken up. You felt her elbow brush against your face as she reached to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

You hardly slept. Of course you didn’t but you wouldn’t worry Natasha, so you pulled your lips into a soft smile and rolled into her arms whispering, “Good morning.”

“Anything you want to do today, baby?” Natasha asks, smiling at you tucked in her arms as you felt your heart sink a little at the question.

You shook your head, rolling back over to stare at the trim along your windows, watching the small drops of a belated storm ripple down leaving streaks across the glass.

You didn’t want to think about it. One of those days when it felt like a headache had engulfed you and was suckling every ounce of energy you had left. The numb, empty feeling that throbbed in your head, a feeling Natasha knew all too well.

“Want to talk, detka?” She whispers, her hand brushes your cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shake your head in response. “Actually, I'm a little tired, Nat. I think I'll just sleep for a bit.”

You both knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, but Natasha would never push you.

“I’ll let you sleep then, Detka. Maybe I’ll go make us some tea.” She pressed a kiss to the back of your head before tucking you in and leaving you in the dark as she shut the door softly.

You’re alone in your bed now and it’s quiet. Even though a part of you wishes Natasha hadn’t left, you needed the silence.

You could sleep for a bit, or at least try, but even that felt like too much.

The past week had drained you completely, it felt like you spent every day holding yourself together and it was finally coming apart. everything was becoming too much.

You were glad the door was closed and you were grateful for the dark. Natasha wouldn’t hear the sound of quiet sobbing, muffled as you buried yourself further under the blankets, letting the pillow beneath you soak up your tears.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that for. You weren’t sure it mattered, everything you felt and everything you pent up came out in a flood.

You didn't notice the clouds outside becoming dark rain that poured down on your roof and against your windows, ironically it felt like the sky was agreeing with you.

When you finally began to calm, the heaviness in your chest grew lighter and your voice didn’t shake with each breath.

You lay there for a while, looking at nothing and thinking of everything. There was a soft knock at the door and you heard it shutting a moment later. You didn’t move to see, you could hear Natasha shuffling in the dimly lit room, a shiver crept up your spine as your blanket was lifted and the cool air met your warm body.

The mattress dipped when Natasha climbed under the covers, and you felt her press against you.

“Nat?” You asked softly, empty tears staining your voice as you wondered why she was back in bed with you.

“It’s raining.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around your torso and interlocking her hand with yours.

“I think today’s a good day to stay in bed.”

You turned back to her, knowing what she meant by that, she’ll stay with you for as long as it takes, it’s her way of telling you how much she loves you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, burying your face in her neck and finding a warmth you didn’t know you needed. “Anything for you.” she answered, pressing her lips to your own.

#i felt so bad not finishing this #anon i hope you're ok #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #fics #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #im tired :/

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ejunkiet · 1 year

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me and the devil

another angst-leaning prompt fill... hurt/comfort for the soul, okay.

redacted audio: asher/babe, some mature themes.

content warnings: it's implied, but not explicitly stated, that Babe was once claimed by a demon associated with negative feelings (i.e. depression)

Asher saves his mate from a demon’s claim.

“Stay behind me, babe.”

READ ON AO3

me and the devil

He can sense something is off when he reaches their apartment.

There’s a somberness there, that he doesn’t associate with them. It’s quiet, too quiet, he realises - they usually filled their rooms with music, or conversation with friends, never this silence.

They’ve had a rough week, he figures, as he helps them pack up their laptop, shrugging off their apologies with a soft laugh and a smile. But that’s why he’s here, to cheer them up.

And he does. The date goes well. Coffee, at their favourite shop. It’s becoming their place, together - a routine for the start of their weekend. Their smile gets brighter and brighter as time goes by, until they’re laughing with him, and it fills him with warmth.

(They’re beautiful when they laugh.)

But still, there’s something… not quite right. The feeling comes to a head when they’re leaving the cafe, walking back to their apartment, when his instincts tell him to stop.

His senses are on full alert, and he can feel the aspects of his wolf on the edges of it, his eyesight sharper than usual, unbidden. There’s something here, his instincts are telling him. You are not alone.

“Stay behind me, babe.”

He turns, catching their gaze - and their eyes are glassy, lethargic. He reaches out to take their hand, and their fingers cool within his, chilled by the night air.

“Babe?”

They hum an acknowledgement, but the sound is soft, faint, as if they’re falling asleep on their feet, except it’s three in the afternoon and they’d just had a coffee date.

A flicker of panic rises in his chest, and he steps closer to them, his hand raising to cup their cheek, a part of him revelling at the way they lean into his touch - before there’s a ripple in the air before him, and shit.

He can taste the sharp bite of unfamiliar magic, before the demon shudders into visibility, their cloak slipping away like oil over water, revealing a tall, shadowed form, pale eyes gleaming through the darkness.

Hello, little wolf.

His instincts are screaming at him as he shifts, placing himself between them and the threat. The demon huffs at that, a little puff of air, and Ash realises then that it hadn’t spoken aloud, instead sliding the words into his mind.

He’s painfully aware of his partner’s uninformed status - it’s only been a handful of months - a few incredible months, and it already feels as if they’ve changed his life forever.

What do you want?

Pale eyes flicker past him, focusing just past his shoulder, and his grip on his partner’s hand tightens as he shifts on his feet, adjusting his position until they’re out of view.

You have my Charge.

My Charge. The words sink into him and the pieces click into place, that strange feeling he’d been getting around them lately, that edge to their smile when he sees them again for the first time in a few days, as if their energy had been sapped away.

It’d ease, after a while of them being together, that light returning to their beautiful eyes - but it worries him. And now he knows why.

He can’t help the growl that curls out of his throat. Find another.

The demon regards him for a long moment. All he can see of its features are the eyes, as frosty and stark as ice, and even the aura of the demon is cold. Sad. Lonely. Feelings he’d sensed in them, when he’d been away. When he’d first met them in that elevator, too.

The demon’s reply is simple. Why?

They’re mine. You can’t have them.

The claim comes as easily as breathing, slipping from his mind before he can really think about it, or take it back. The weight of it clenches in his chest, and he can’t help glancing back, meeting their hazy gaze, his hand squeezing around theirs.

They’ve talked a little about the future, but not like this. They’ve not discussed more.

That doesn’t change how he feels about them, though. How he’s felt about them for a long time. And it doesn’t change the fact that he refuses to let them be the plaything of some demon.

The growl is back in his throat when he meets the pale eyes of the demon again. It’s considering him, a glimmer of - something in their gaze that he can’t read. His hackles raise, the wolf in his teeth now as he bites down on a snarl.

The demon nods, as if in acknowledgement. I see.

The air ripples around its form for a moment, before it vanishes. Asher feels a rush of air and magic - strong, too strong - and he turns quickly to wrap Babe up in his arms, holding them tight to him, shielding them with his body. If he can do anything for them, he can do this - protect them, or die trying.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and braces for impact - ready to take whatever the demon throws at them.

But the attack never comes. The street is quiet, the scent of magic fading from the air.

When he opens his eyes again, Babe is looking up at him, their beautiful eyes clear and focused on his. There’s a warm flush on their cheeks, a small smile tugging up their lips as they ask, “Ash?”

He blinks, glancing behind them. He can’t… sense it anymore, the path behind them as empty and innocuous as it had always been.

“You - looked cold, babe.” His cheeks flush as he stumbles over his words, his heart rate still high, even as he takes steadying breaths to calm it down - but they don’t seem to notice, their free hand winding in the front of his coat, pulling him in closer.

“I was. But I feel better now.” There’s a warmth in their gaze as they say it, their eyes flickering between his, before they drop down to his mouth. Reaching up, they curl their hand around his nape and tug him into a soft kiss.

“Thank you,” they murmur against his mouth as they pull back, and there’s a weight to the words that makes him wonder for a moment if they knew, if they’d managed to break through whatever spell the demon had cast over them - but they don’t say anything else.

Pulling back from him, they offer him another smile. “Let’s go home.”

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted asher #asher/babe #ej writes redacted #would asher take a bullet for his mate? yes #writing

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years

Text

Here Comes the Sun 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 Playlist

Summary: An unexpected journey causes Peter to learn new things and make revelations.

Warnings: AFAB!reader, language, talk and description of depression and anxiety. Reader is given a name but it's very brief (and you can ignore it if you want)

Up until recently, Peter never understood why people focused on yesterday. He was always glad to go on with the next day. It meant he survived whatever plagued him the night before, whether it be a weekly villain or his own personal demons.

It meant he had another chance to try to make up for his past mistakes. He never wanted to harp on the day before, it wouldn't change anything. He learned that a long time ago.

But now?

He believed in yesterday.

He’d give anything to go back to his own world. It was so off-putting. Everything looked so familiar and yet was completely different. This world had Spider-Man and Peter Parker in it, but it wasn’t the same.

Why was he here? How did he get here? To this new universe? Did time work differently here? How long had he been gone from his own world? It could have been a difference of just a few hours or days. Did May notice he was gone?

His mind immediately went to the little ball of sunshine that he had run away from

Guilt rang through his body whenever he thought of her. Spending time with her was more enjoyable than he had expected. But he never meant to get so caught up, to kiss her. It was a mistake. A huge, cosmic mistake.

Because as baffling and as confusing and as charming and as adorable as she was, he never meant to hurt her. Despite his best efforts to avoid eye contact as he left, he couldn’t help it. He looked at her. He saw the pain in her now dull eyes, the anger.

This was for the best, right? Now she could move on. Find someone who could actually laugh and smile and relax. Someone who shined as bright as her. Someone who didn’t suffocate her light, like he did.

Peter turned his attention back to his current predicament. He had always wondered about multiple universes and their existence. He even researched it during college. When questioned about it, Peter responded that it was simply “a cool theory”.

The truth was that Peter theorized that if multiple universes were real, multiple versions of a person could also be real.

And the teenager who shared the same name only strengthened that theory.

Which was why, selfishly, the first thing Peter did was to test out a theory he had since he was nineteen.

He had to see if she was out there.

—---------

She died in 2012. One of the many casualties in the Battle of New York. Peter had searched all over the city for her (it was easy to go unnoticed when folks believed you were just dressing up for money and pictures). His search led him to a cemetery. The sight was familiar but also sickeningly.

She had died while helping a young boy. Protected him, sacrificed herself.

Was that Gwen's fate, no matter the universe?

Was the universe that cruel? How could someone so bright be tied to such a fate?

Peter stared hard at the tombstone. The sight never became easier to stomach.

"I don't…..I don't know if you're the same as my Gwen. You share the same name. So hopefully it's not weird that I'm talking to you," Peter then muttered, "he says to a tombstone."

This wasn't his first time. Her tombstone was all he had left of Gwen. While he didn't visit every day of the week like he once did, it was still a sacred site for him. In a twisted way, it was comforting. It felt like she was somehow still there.

"I….I met this girl. And you…you would have really liked her. She's funny and doesn’t hesitate to give it right back to me. She's pretty bright too. Different from you. Not saying she isn't smart, but she's….she just has this weird tendency to light up a room when she walks in. Her name is Eppie, and she sometimes goes by MJ, but I call her Sunshine because she's…..she's always smiling and just feels warm."

Peter rocked himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I….we went on two dates and at the end of the last one….I kissed her. And what I hated about it was that…I didn't feel guilty for kissing her. I felt more guilt over not feeling guilty," His voice became soft, "Why…why didn't I feel guilty?"

He knew one potential answer. But that couldn't be it.

"I know if you could speak to me, you'd tell me to move on. But every time I try to move on, someone gets hurt. I tried to move on from my parents, and I lost Ben. I tried to move on from Ben, and I lost you. If I try to move on from you….I don't want her to get hurt."

Even if she somehow was able to talk to him, Peter doubted she could give him a comforting answer.

Folks on the outside would say he had a choice. But he didn't. Peter could never be that selfish again. He could never let someone in, immediately putting them at risk. The value of the potential loss was too high.

He was supposed to be alone.

__________________

After learning the fate of this universe's Gwen Stacy, Peter decided to focus on another name. His own.

Thanks to the numerous TVs plastered in Times Square, he was able to pick up the key details. This young boy was also named Peter Parker, he also had very similar abilities and his secret identity was also Spiderman. At least, it was a secret until recently.

Though Peter didn't have all the details, it was safe to say he was on Team Spidey. Mysterio was a grown man outing a kid. Anyone who does that could not have good intentions.

It was safe to assume this version or variation of himself was going through a lot. He was still a kid, still in high school.

It was also safe to assume that perhaps, this universe's Peter could help him get back home. Surely, if something had to be amiss if he was able to travel into a different world.

Peter couldn’t tell if it was his Spider-like sense, or the fact that they shared the same name and abilities. But something was troubling the boy. He needed help.

Perhaps Peter could help him.

He just had to find him first.

—----------------------

“Prove it. That you’re Peter Parker.”

Peter never thought he would have to prove who he was. Usually the suit was enough evidence.

Though, he did respect that this universe’s Peter’s girlfriend was not as easily trusting as her friend. He would have done the exact same thing, if the roles were reversed.

“Crawl around,” She demanded, bread in hand. Perhaps not teaching high school wasn’t a mistake. But he didn’t blame the young girl. She was being protective, which given all that had been released from his own universe (and potentially others), made total sense.

It was a lot all at once. Peter hadn’t expected to get berated by two teenagers. Nor did he expect them to confirm that magic existed within their universe.

Nor did he expect a third Peter Parker.

Peter foolishly thought he would have the upper-hand due to age. How quickly his hand was webbed proved him wrong. Peter didn’t feel bad for being suspicious-the man reciprocated the same feeling. They both were expecting a much younger Peter Parker.

It was an odd sight. The idea of being Spider-Man as he got older wasn’t foreign to Peter, it just wasn’t something he thought about.

More so, he actively chose not to think about it. For so long, he had associated the thought of being older to having settled down. To having a family of his own.

That was no longer possible.

So, he didn’t think about it.

“This might seem kinda weird, but I’ve been trying to find your friend since I got here,” The older Peter explained to the two teenagers. Peter kept his mouth shut, as he knew he couldn’t say the exact same.

“I just have this sense, that….he needs my help.”

“Our help,” Peter corrected. While looking for this universe’s Peter wasn’t the first thing on his list, it was his priority now.

“Well, is there some place that he might go, that has meaning to him? Like a place he would just go to-”

“Get away from everything?” Peter finished. Turns out, having a specific spot to clear your head was a universal Peter Parker move.

Though Peter would still argue he had the spot with the best view.

_______

Peter watched as MJ and Ned comforted their Peter. He stayed in the background with the oldest Peter, not wanting to be seen just yet.

“I got some understanding-”

“Please don’t tell me you know what I’m going through. She’s gone. And it’s all my fault” The younger Peter told him.

He saw himself in the young man. Specifically after Gwen died. The grief was overpowering, radiating off of him. As was the anger.

The boy was at a crossroads.

The exact crossroads he was in, nearly ten years ago.

If this had happened a few years ago, Peter would have told him to bury it. That the best way to honor the lost lives was to completely devote himself to being Spider-Man, to keeping everyone else safe.

But was that really a life?

The last few weeks of Peter’s life had brought him a haunting realization.

He was lonely. He was bitter. He had given up everything he as Peter Parker wanted. And all for what?

Sure, he could say it was to honor Uncle Ben and Gwen. But he knew deep down, they would be saddened if they saw what he had become. They wouldn’t feel honor at all.

It may be too late for him to turn it around. But this boy still had that chance. He just didn’t know it. Didn’t know that the path he was looking to take was not the right one. Not the one his Aunt May would have wanted for him. And perhaps, that was why the universe sent him here. To prevent the same thing from occurring again.

“I lost….I lost Gwen. My……she was my MJ.” Peter never talked about this with others. For one, he couldn’t. It was also too painful. But right now, his younger variant’s pain was more important than his own, “I couldn’t save her and I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for that.”

Peter sniffed, trying to hold back the tears, “But I carried on, tried to, um... try to keep going, try to keep being the uh... that “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man,” ‘cause I knew that’s what she would have wanted. But at some point, I just-- I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter.”

These thoughts weren’t new. They had always been looming at the back of Peter’s mind. Always tried to sneak out, tried to make him aware whenever May would suggest setting him up with someone. The thoughts had been on the forefront of his mind ever since meeting….his MJ? It felt weird to call her that, given how the younger Peter also had someone who went by MJ (which was a very weird coincidence). Sunshine. That felt right. Though she wasn’t his Sunshine.

She would never be.

Peter tried to shove the thoughts of her away. That’s not what mattered now. Even though his brain kept going back to her. Whether it was memories of their past interactions or wonderings of what she was doing right now, if she had noticed he was gone.

“I just don’t want you to end up like….like me.” In a way, it was therapeutic. Not that he should be focusing on himself-the younger variant was more important right now. But to actually say it out loud….brought something to Peter. He couldn’t identify whether it was comfort or alleviation. Whatever it was, he hoped it had gotten through to the younger Peter.

“...Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that, “With great power--”

“”Comes great responsibility.” The oldest Peter finished.

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

Maybe they had more in common than they thought. More than just their name and the origin of their powers.

—------

Another thing all three Peter Parkers had in common was science. They were all really good at it.

Peter didn’t mind the distraction. He had already figured out a cure for Connors, so making a second one wouldn’t be too difficult.

But as he looked at the younger Peter and his MJ comfort each other, Peter began to wish he had chosen something more challenging. Where he could focus on the task at hand and not be caught up in the young lovers.

He saw himself and Gwen. The innocence. The overwhelming yet naive belief that somehow, their love could conquer any obstacle that came their way.

Peter knew the truth now. And yet, he still found himself longing for it. Which was ridiculous, he knew better. He had known and accepted his reality for years. What was he longing for? To rest his forehead against someone else’s and breathe in their scent of lavender?

Wait, why lavender?

Fuck. Sunshine. She always smelled like lavender. Peter recalled how nauseating it was whenever she leaned into him, the scent filling his nostrils and how he would get distracted by her bright, beautiful eyes and-

“You have someone?” Peter was thankful the oldest Parker variant had snapped him out of his thoughts. Though he wished the question hadn’t been related to what he was thinking.

“No. I got no time for uh,” He sighed, “Peter Parker stuff, you know?”

The oldest Peter Parker was hard to read. Was he giving a look of understanding? Disappointment? Concern?

“Do you?” Peter asked, hoping for clarification.

He hesitated, “Uh, that’s a little complicated.” Peter felt relief. It wasn’t just him. Clearly the youngest Parker was just an outlier.

“No, I understand. It’s just not in the cards for guys like us.” He had hoped, upon seeing the two other variations of himself, that it would validate him. That what he had decided to do, and had intended to do for the rest of his life, was the right choice.

That when he said it, Peter could actually believe his own words.

He was wrong.

“Well, I wouldn’t give up. It took a while, but…we made it work.” He looked more hopeful

“Yeah?” How? How could he make it work? How was that possible, when it seemed like the universe(s) were giving signs that it wasn’t.

“Yeah, me and MJ.”

MJ?

“My MJ. It gets confusing here." Peter laughed with the oldest variant before going back to work. It was funny that all three Peter's knew an MJ.

Wait.

MJ.

Holy shit.

One MJ was nothing. Two was just a coincidence. But three?

That had to mean something. But what?

The younger Peter's MJ was definitely his girlfriend.

While he didn't specify, it was clear the older Peter was romantically involved with his MJ.

And as for Peter's own MJ….

Oh God, he went on two dates with her. He kissed her.

And he liked it. A lot.

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to do it again. Kiss her and spend more time with her. It was the most alive he had felt in years.

But that couldn't mean…..

Granted, it was hard to argue with the math. All three Peter Parker's knew someone named MJ. Two out of the three were in a romantic relationship with them. Peter himself was on that path before he ran away from it.

Fuck.

Granted, was it really that bad? He did admit to enjoying the time he spent with her. As well as kissing her.

It was never a heatstroke. Or fever. Or some weird gas the latest villain of the week created.

He liked her. He felt alive around her. The time he spent with her was the happiest he had felt in years.

But her being around him was a great risk. She cared, which meant she could get hurt.

That couldn't happen again.

—---

He noticed her immediately. How did she end up here? She wasn't supposed to be here.

This was why Peter was thankful there was no magic in his universe. He couldn't imagine all the shit people would try to pull, that he would have to clean up, as the NYPD would be even more useless.

The feeling of Deja Vu was strong. It was unsettling. She shouldn't be here. She could get hurt.

Really hurt.

As he continued to complete his tasks, Peter kept an eye on this universe’s MJ. Scaffolds were breaking, pumpkin bombs, wizards abound.

The circumstances may have been different, but the risk was still there.

Peter could feel it in the pit of his stomach. He had to watch her. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Her Peter had already lost so much. If something happened to her….

Peter-one wouldn’t end up like Peter. He’d be much worse.

That couldn’t happen. Peter refused. Her life would not be cut short and her Peter would not be broken.

He ran closer to the ledge as he saw her fall backwards. It felt like that dreadful night at the Tower. The night that no matter how much time had passed, still felt like it had just happened yesterday.

He saw MJ. He also saw Gwen. He saw his own MJ. All falling down towards the ground.

For a brief moment, it looked like the younger Peter would be able to reach her in time. He would rescue her, preventing any harm from coming her way.

Fate had different plans, as that Goblin slammed into him, carrying him away.

No. Not today. This was not going to happen.

Peter swung down towards her. Webbing her was too risky, she was falling too fast. Webs wouldn’t be able to save her in time.

Peter knew this because for the last ten years, he’d laid in bed late at night, replaying this scenario. Analyzing every detail, every action. What he had done and what he should have done differently.

He knew what to do. What he always wished he could have done.

He wrapped his arms around her, securing her. He quickly shot a web up towards one of the scaffolds, allowing him to land on his feet with her in his arms.

She was gasping for air, most likely adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked her. He needed her to respond. He had to hear her talk because otherwise, how would he truly know it had worked? That she was indeed safe?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She whispered.

It worked. He did it.

What he failed to do ten years ago, he did it just now. Instead of a dead, limp body in his arms, he was holding a living and breathing one.

He saved her.

At first it felt bittersweet. It had been so easy, why couldn’t he had done that ten years ago? But if he had…..if webbing had somehow worked ten years ago, who was to say it would have worked now? Would he have even known?

He was already broken and damaged. But the younger Peter wouldn’t be.

"Are you okay?" She asked. He shouldn’t be surprised. Usually when you rescue someone, you’re not holding back tears.

He could only nod his head in response. Neither she or her Peter needed to know what he just saved them from. All the pain, grief, and anguish.

They never would know, thanks to him.

He saved them. He saved another person from having to experience what he went through. If he hadn't been here, this universe's Peter would have gone down the same path. But he wouldn't now.

It was comforting in a way. For the first time in years, Peter felt proud of himself.

He felt closure. Like this was what he had been working towards all these years. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Despite all the chaos surrounding them, he felt at peace.

Perhaps he wasn’t a failure. Perhaps he could still be a hero. Perhaps, not everything he touched was ruined or lost.

Perhaps he could let a little sunshine in.

—----------------

The rest of the night was a whirlwind.

Peter peered out of the alleyway, taking in the sights and sounds. In theory, he should be back in his universe.

But considering everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, he was cautious.

Everything looked normal. But he had to be sure.

"Hey yo!" Peter called to a nearby walker, "Are you Team Spidey or Team Mysterio?"

"Who the fuck is Mysterio?!"

"I still don't really know either!" Peter exclaimed, swinging away. Whatever had happened to the city while he was gone could wait until tomorrow. He had more important things to do.

He called her first. He considered going straight to her apartment, but what if she wasn't there? What if she was and just slammed the door in his face? Peter didn't blame her if she did that.

Calling first would be best. He could ask if they could just talk. He could explain himself (maybe minus the whole Spiderman and traveling to different universes bit).

Peter had a plan.

Well, he did. But he failed to account for the possibility that she may not pick up.

A voicemail wouldn't do. He couldn't spout his feelings over a voicemail. First, who in the world listened to a voicemail that was longer than thirty seconds? Second, what if she misconstrued what he was trying to say?

Alright, time for plan B. Swing to her apartment. He would check if she was there and if she was, he could swing back to his place, change clothes (maybe shower) and ask for forgiveness.

She lived in apartment 1062, which was on the left side of the tenth floor. Meaning her balcony would be-

Peter instantly recognized the array of plants (seriously how many did she need?) And patio furniture. Lights were strung up around but they were off.

Fuck, her whole apartment was dark.

She wasn't there.

He couldn't text her. Texting was super impersonal. Peter refused to be that guy.

Waiting until she came back was also borderline stalker behavior. But she wasn't answering her phone so how else was he supposed to figure out where she was?

Wait.

May.

She knew everything. She knew Peter was Spider-Man for five years before he told her. May would know where she was.

"Oh my god, Peter!" May immediately went off on a tangent as soon as she picked up, "You've been gone for a week! Where on Earth were you?!"

"Uh…it's kinda a long story. We should definitely be drinking wine when I tell you all about it. But I'm okay! I promise! I would have called you but the reception was really bad."

"I've been worried sick. I asked Eppie if she had seen you-"

"Eppie?"

"Oh, does she go by MJ with you?"

"You mean Sunshine!" Why did she have to have so many names?! Granted, Peter had bestowed the last one himself.

"Speaking of which, do you know where she is? I uh….we didn't end our last date on the best of terms and it's completely my fault so I need to find her and she's not answering her phone, do you think she's okay?"

Peter could hear May sighing on the other end, "Uh…Peter, she's….she's on a date."

Peter's heart didn't just sink. It dropped from twelve floors above.

It had been a whole week. They weren't official. Hell, they never talked about it, probably because if she brought it up, Peter would have run the other way.

She moved on. And why not? If he was in her shoes, he'd too jump at the chance to go on a date with someone who wasn't the human embodiment of a rain cloud.

Was this the end of their story?

No. Not if Peter could help it.

"Where's her date?" He asked. This could go either really well or absolutely horrible. And the easiest option would be just to assume she had moved on and accepted it.

Perhaps it was the fact that for the first time in ten years, Peter Parker felt hopeful.

Whether his hope was making him overly confident, he didn't know. Only one way to find out.

"I believe her Aunt said they were going to get coffee and a bite to eat. It would have started thirty minutes ago, wait, Peter what are-"

"I'll see you tomorrow and I promise I'll bring ya some hamantaschen from the deli on twelfth street!" Peter hung up and tucked his phone in his pocket.

Despite what had happened over the last forty-eight hours, this was probably the bravest thing he was about to do.

—----

He stopped by the café on Fifth Street first. The one she wanted to visit on their first date.

To Peter's dismay, she wasn't there. Crap, did she already leave? Peter's stomach twisted in knots at the thought of her date going so well, they were already on their way home.

He had come so far, this couldn't be the end.

Wait.

There was one other coffee place she could have gone to.

Was it presumptuous of Peter to assume she went to the one they visited on their first date? Maybe.

It was also his only lead. And it was better than swinging by all the coffee shops within a five mile radius of her apartment building.

—---------

Peter leaned over the rooftop, trying his best to stay hidden.

What would he even say to her? Revealing his secret identity in front of nearby strangers was the last thing he wanted.

He needed to apologize. To explain why he has run away and why he's now back. To ask for forgiveness.

Would she even want to listen to him? Peter wouldn't blame her for that.

Well, maybe she would talk to Spider-Man. Maybe he could figure out how she was feeling, without her knowing who she was really talking to. Was it dishonest? Probably.

But it did give him a chance to see where her head was at. If she said she never wanted to talk to Peter Parker again, he would listen. If she said she was open to talking, he could go home, change, and then-

"I wouldn't get in that taxi if you paid off my student loans!" A familiar voice interrupted Peter's thoughts.

Peter looked up and fuck, she was beautiful. Why did he run away in the first place? Because he was stupid and scared. Which he was more than willing to fully admit to-

Wait, why was she yelling at this dude?

"We spent a whole hour together, not once did you ask me a question at all, and you think I'm getting into a taxi with you? How draft are you?!"

"I mean, we can talk at my place-"

"Oh yes, because I'm sure that's exactly what you want to do at your place. 'Talk'!" She said in air quotes.

For someone so tiny, she sure could hold her own.

Still, Peter quietly swung down, landing behind her.

"She does have a point! A whole hour and you didn't ask her one thing?" He said, startling the two.

When she turned around to look at him, it took Peter's breath away. He missed her. The whole damn time he was away in another universe, his mind always wandered back to her.

"Look, you're acting like I don't know anything about her!" The guy, who Peter assumed was the date, defended.

Peter put his hands on his hips, "What's her occupation then?"

The guy stared blankly at her. She smirked, casting Peter a knowing look.

"You're….you do theatre!"

Before he could stop himself, Peter shook his head. Even he wasn't that bad on their first date. Probably because deep down, he wanted to get to know her, even then.

"I teach first grade!"

"Dude, she teaches first grade," Peter admonished. It took everything in him not to sound giddy when she smiled at him.

"Look, it's the first date! How am I supposed to know?!" Peter silently thanked the universe that whoever this dude was, he was not going to wreck his plans.

"It was on my profile. You know, the thing you're supposed to look at before swiping right?" She crossed her arms. For someone who was so bright, she had no issue dishing it out.

Peter loved that.

"Buddy, at this point, I would just walk away," He suggested.

"Whatever, this date wasn't even that good!" The man sighed in exasperation.

"May you be so rich that your widow's husband never has to work a day!" She called out as the man walked away.

"Did…did you just place a Yiddish curse on him?" Peter asked. She giggled, nodding her head.

God, she was so cute. And he was such an idiot for letting her go.

"Thanks, by the way. I could have handled him but it's always nice to have backup."

Peter almost forgot to respond, getting lost in her eyes, "Oh! Uh yeah! No problem! J-Just part of the whole 'friendly neighborhood Spider-Man' thing! Uh…please tell me you're not going to call him back."

She laughed, "Absolutely not! To be honest, I…I didn't want to go on this date."

"Then why go?"

She shrugged, looking down at the ground, "It's nothing. I'm sure you have much bigger things to worry about than some random person's dating life."

"Actually it's a quiet night for once!" Peter paused, "I could…I could walk you home? If you want! Obviously you're more than capable of handling yourself but I can always-"

"Actually," she paused, "that would be lovely. It is getting kinda late."

"Sure! Uh, w-which way should we go? Since I don't know where you live!" He was trying his best to play it cool. He had traveled through different universes now. In theory, he should be able to play it cool.

"We gotta take a right onto sixth street," She said, smiling. The two began walking.

"Is walking weird? Since you're so used to swinging around and all," She asked.

"It's nice to change it up! So uh…what uh what made you go on a date that you didn't want to go on?" He asked.

Sunshine signed, "I was hoping…it would help me move on from someone else. And unfortunately, that didn't happen. I honestly think it made it worse."

"You were trying to move on? From someone?" He asked, his voice shaking. Sure, her attempt failed. But the fact she was attempting to forget about him was less than promising.

"Yeah," She shrugged, fidgeting with her hands, "Trying to move on from someone who didn't want me."

I do want you, was what he wanted to say. But then that would complicate things even more. His goal here was to understand how she was feeling, so he knew how to approach her as Peter.

"And you're sure that-that he doesn't want you? I mean, maybe he does!"

She shook her head, "He…I shouldn't be telling you all this, but he lost someone he loved a long time ago. And their death was really hard on him," She stopped walking, looking right at him, "And I don't fault him for that at all. But…I don't think he's ready to move on and I'd rather not wait around to find out, y'know?"

Peter hated how valid her statement was. He also hated how he couldn't tell her that was she wrong. He was ready to move on. He wanted to move on, to her.

"I mean….that makes sense," He paused, "But maybe…maybe he does want to move on! Maybe he wants to be with you. I…I don't know the guy, but you never know!"

She shrugged, "That's the thing I guess. I don't know."

The two approached the apartment building. Peter didn't feel any closer to accomplishing his goal.

She turned around, her lips forming into a tight smile. Peter hated that he couldn't get a read on her. He had been hoping that this walk would have granted him the chance to see where her head was at, so he knew exactly how to approach her as Peter Parker.

“Thank you for….tonight. It was nice to see this side of you.” Though only for a brief moment, he foolishly thought she was referring to Peter.

Of course not.

He nodded his head, in understanding, “I’m glad I was able to show it to you.”

She began to dig her heels into the pavement, beginning to turn. Peter’s heart lurched. He began to reach out, as if he would cast her back in, afraid to lose her again.

“Wait!” He called out. She suddenly turned to him, caught off guard by his urgency.

“Sorry! It’s just….I think you should give this guy another chance.” That wasn’t entirely how he planned to start that, but since when did anything Peter planned actually come to fruition the way it was originally imagined?

She raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms. Was that a scowl? Was she trying to look intimidating?

It was adorable.

"I….look, I just….think the chance for that has already passed. Thanks again for walking me home," and with that she walked into her apartment building.

Fuck that was not how it was supposed to go. He couldn't let it end like that.

Peter swung up, instantly recognizing the array of plants and matching patio set. The lights turned on, alerting him that he wasn't alone.

"What the actual fu-"

"Look, just-I just need you to hear me out and then I promise I'll go away!" He said, putting his hands up to show he meant no harm.

She leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed. "You have five minutes."

“I just…yes, he absolutely has shit he needs to work on. Like really work on. Probably needs to speak to a therapist and maybe that is-will- be the first time he ever admits to it. Anyways!” Peter was already out of breath, “He probably knows this and I’m sure he really likes you, he’s just…scared. Well, more like absolutely terrified. Be-because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love and you….you accept that you’ll never get another chance, that you don’t deserve one, and it’s for the best, right? So you accept it and try your best to live your life. And then….you come along and you’re just pure sunshine.”

“Spider-Man, I-”

“I know we just met and I clearly don’t know you. But I’m sure that’s what he calls because no other name would make sense. It’s what you are and it’s everything he’s not and that may or may not have also played a factor in how he acted-again, I don’t know this guy! You're everything he's not and he's probably wondering why you would even give him the time of the day and….he’s just scared. And that doesn't give him the right to have been a total dick to you-”

“Spider-” She tried again. Peter was so wrapped up in his own rambling that he didn’t notice the flash of annoyance in her eyes, or how she threw her hands in the air.

“He’s scared because….you just pop out of nowhere and all of a sudden, this warm, fuzzy, slightly-nauseating feeling comes back and he probably didn’t even recognize it at first! Just thinking he was having a heat stroke or something. And then, there’s the sudden, literal hair-raising realizing it’s possible for this….to feel this way about someone again and… I mean, I'm just assuming-”

“Spi-”

“Yes, I-I am aware I’m rambling and I’m sure this is super weird for you and I should probably go, but just please, you gotta give him another-”

“Peter.” She stepped forward so that she didn't have to say his name loudly. He had forgotten how pleasant it was to hear her say his name. How grounding it was, pulling him from the nonsensical rambling daze he was in.

Wait. Why did she say his name?

"I-I'm not-"

"You don't think I'd recognize your voice?" She said with a chuckle, "I've known since you asked me about the Yiddish curse I threw on that douchebag."

"And you didn't say anything?!" Peter asked, aghast. He couldn't tell if he should be grateful or insulted.

"Well, I figured revealing your identity was something you try to avoid," She stepped away from the door, towards him, "....and I wanted to see what you had to say."

"Oh, well…" Peter reached up to pull off his mask, finally revealing his face, "uh…hey."

He cursed himself. Hey? That was the best he could do? He had traveled through different universes, had essentially one giant group therapy session with other variants of himself, and the best he could come up with was hey? Peter couldn't-

Shit, she was getting closer to him.

Though it had only been two days since he last saw her, Peter forgot how bright her eyes were. How captivating they were. Every time he looked into them, it felt like he discovered they held a new shade of-

The searing pain scorched along his cheek broke him out of his thoughts. His head was now turned away from her, his eyesight now on the matching peach patio set.

Peter turned towards her, bringing a hand up to his burning, now sore, cheek. Her raised hand confirmed it.

"You slapped me." He said meekly.

"Yeah, been wanting to for a week now," She said casually, crossing her arms. Was that a smirk? Was she smirking that she had slapped him?

Peter couldn't lie, it was a pretty good slap. And she took full advantage of him, he was bending his knees to be at eye level, allowing her to reach up without over extending her arm.

"I….I didn't expect that," Peter paused, "But I do deserve that."

"Ya think? First of all, you leave me hanging after pulling the biggest switch ever. Then you fucking disappear for a week?! Please tell me you've called or seen May, she's been worried sick and-"

"Of course I did! She's the one who told me you had a date when I asked where you were!"

"You asked for me?" She asked, as if she didn't believe it.

"Yes. After being sent back from another universe, you were the first person I wanted to see. I called you but you didn't pick up. And I…I didn't… I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me so I called May to let her know I was okay and ask where you were!" Peter explained.

She blinked, "We are…we'll talk about the universe thing later. So did you….did you follow me? Even after knowing I was on a date? How did you know where to find me?" She asked. Peter realized in hindsight while the gesture could come across as romantic, it could also come across as stalkerish.

"Well….May said you were getting coffee and I remembered the place you suggested on our first date. But you weren't there so I went to the coffee shop we went to and I realize this makes me sound like a stalker and I didn't really have a plan as to what I would do but what I just said as Spider-Man, I meant it you just have to replace 'he' with I and-"

"Peter," She tried to interject but it was too late. He was off on a tangent.

"I really do like you and I know I have stuff I need to work on and I should totally see a therapist-"

"You have to if you want to keep seeing me." Her words stopped Peter in his tracks.

"Wha-huh?"

"I like you. I want to keep seeing you.”

“You want to keep seeing me?” Peter asked. Surprised was an understatement. As much as he wanted a second chance, part of him still wasn’t expecting to get one. After all, two second chances within the same day was nearly impossible.

“Did you….were you not listening to when I was telling Spider-Man how tonight’s date proved I still had feelings for you?”

"Did you not hear the part when as Spider-Man, I was telling you how I don't know why you'd want me when you're everything I'm not? Also you slapped me!" Peter defended

"You deserved that slap, you said so yourself," her voice softened, "Also, I like that you're different from me…it's one of my favorite things about you."

Peter wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he went to see her tonight.

She must have sensed this, "Yes, that includes when you're the human embodiment of a rain cloud. Which isn't a bad thing. You need rain to help flowers grow, after all."

The scent of lavender flooded his nostrils, alerting him to how close she was. He forgot how comforting her smile was. It was grounding, like the first ray of sun after a torrential downpour.

"And yes, I will support you but I'm not going to be your therapist." Peter nodded his head. It was fair. Completely fair. More than fair.

"I'm more than happy to help you find one and figure out a way to talk about your trauma without revealing your identity," She paused, "You think you could just go as Spider-Man?"

Peter laughed, a warm, safe feeling spreading throughout his body.

"I'm serious!" She giggled, "They can't break their oath, they gotta keep it confidential!"

"I missed you," He said without thinking, "And…I am really, really, sorry for how I left things last time."

She nodded her head. A small smile appeared on her face, though Peter could still see the hesitancy in her eyes. "You have two weeks to find someone. Therapist, psychiatrist, both. If you haven't by then, I'm out."

It was fair. Completely fair. It was also the biggest second chance Peter had received.

"I understand and I…I don't want to let you down again," He assured her.

She moved her hands up to the neckline of his suit, fidgeting with it.

She looked into his eyes, smiling, "I look forward to you proving that."

Peter nodded his head, slowly placing his hands on her hips.

"Can I….Can I uh…"

"I'm not finishing your sentence for you. You're gonna have to use your words Tiger," She smiled, throwing her arms around his neck.

If she wasn't so stinking cute, Peter would have remarked with some witty comeback.

"Can I…kiss you?" He mumbled the last part, looking at the ground. He knew his face was bright red, he could feel the heat practically radiating off of himself. And it definitely wasn't a heatstroke.

"I thought you never asked!" She giggled, like it was nothing.

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be really infuriating sometimes?" Peter remarked, looking back up at her.

"Last time I checked, small and infuriating was exactly your type," She stood on her toes, bringing herself closer to his face.

"So what's your type? Tall, grumpy, and a vigilante?" He felt relaxed in her arms. The banter was fun now. It felt natural, like they were always meant to do this.

Perhaps they were.

His sunshine laughed, nodding her head, "I haven't dated any other masked vigilantes before, but it does make sense with-"

"Dated? Are we-are you implying we're dating?" Despite the grin, his heart soared at her implication.

She bit her tongue, "I am…I am hoping that is what we can do once you hold up your end of the deal. I didn't mean to say it, you're just….you're not the only one who gets nervous, I'm just much better at hiding it compared to you."

"Oh, so your type is infuriating too?"

"Are you gonna kiss me or do I have to do it-" She never got to finish her sentence, due to Peter crashing his lips on hers.

It felt right. For the first time in ten years, things felt right for Peter Parker.

—----------------------------

One year later……

"Peter, I swear to God if you come any closer," Peter couldn't help but grin at her using her 'teacher' voice on him.

"You're gonna send me to the time out corner, Sunshine?" He inched closer to the counter.

"It is the calm down corner, thank you very much. Also how do you expect me to make rugelach when you keep stealing spoonful's of the filling?"

Peter shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head on top of her's. She was the perfect size.

Perfect for him. And he (as he had come to accept) was perfect for her.

"Peter," She warned as she intently watched him move his hand to her's.

"What?" He brought her wrist up to his lips, "just wanted something sweet."

She sighed, biting her bottom lip. Peter knew that look. He loved that look, as it told him that he had succeeded in making her flustered.

"That was pretty smooth, you gotta admit," He teased.

"If I do, will you let me focus on baking?" Her voice may have been stern, but the smile on her face told Peter otherwise.

"Fine," He kissed her cheek before walking away, "I'll just admire my wonderful, beautiful, talented girlfriend from afar."

"Your life is so hard. I don't know how you do it. " She deadpanned.

"What are you two lovebirds up to?" May's voice filled the room.

"I'm just making rugelach for FEAST tomorrow, Peter is bemoaning how hard it is to let me focus," Sunshine called out.

"Can I not appreciate my girlfriend? I'm feeling really attacked right now, Sunshine," He remarked, feigning offense.

She looked over her shoulder to send him a smile. It was his favorite smile of her's- the one where her whole face lit up and the corner of her eyes crinkled. She always had that smile when he referred to her by that specific nickname.

"Peter, can you help me with something in the living room?" May asked, motioning for Peter to follow her. The quick wink she gave him alerted Peter to trail behind her quickly.

"Did you find it?" Peter whispered once they were out of earshot.

May nodded her head, "I had to look through several boxes but I finally found it!"

She reached into her pocket to pull out the ring.

Several years ago, May had told Peter that she wanted to give it to him-so he could use it when the time came, just like Ben had many, many years ago.

Peter had told her at the time that she could keep it. That he didn't plan on needing an engagement ring.

Funny how things change.

May handed him the ring. "You're gonna have to get it resized," She explained.

He nodded his head, focusing on the ring he was holding.

"Peter, that means you're going to need her ring size," She added.

"I know how rings work May!" He whispered.

"Do you know her ring size?"

Peter stared at his Aunt blankly.

"I'll ask her. If you ask, it's going to be really obvious. I'll tell her I'm getting rid of some jewelry." Peter was thankful he had Many. Despite making his intentions very clear (while intoxicated and sober), he wanted this to be somewhat of a surprise.

"Peter, I'll let you have some more filling if you help me roll out the pastry dough. Deal?" A voice called from the kitchen.

He quickly put the ring in his pocket, running back into the kitchen in an attempt to play it cool.

"Yeah, sounds like a great deal!" He said, moving back to the counter.

"What did May need your help with?" She asked.

Peter shrugged, "oh she just needed me to move the couch. Something of her's rolled underneath there."

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. Whatever caused her not to question him, Peter was thankful for it.

His arms quickly found themselves wrapped around her waist again.

"I love you Sunshine," He murmured into her hair.

She paused, her hands stilling. She titled her back back so she could look into his eyes.

"I love you too Peter. Now are you gonna just stand and stare or help me roll out this dough?"

Peter laughed, "Dough rolling assistant reporting for duty!"

She shook her head, though that soft smile still remained.

His own little ray of sun.

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

8K words later and here we are! Thank you for all the kind words and comments!!! I do want to write a little more for these two and hopefully can do so after my vacation! I hope you enjoyed this journey. Don't be afraid to share your favorite bits!

@rae-gar-targaryen @blooming-violets @liz-allyn @fantasticcopeaglepasta @harrysbabygirl @impossible-ozzie @boarmaskedbastard @everything163 @jrjlc

@papaya-047 @realspideyspice @odilevonbrekker @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo

@abibliophobiaa @mrshipsmcgee @gratefulstranger

@shaded-echoes-recs

#Peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #my writing #tasm fanfiction

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manicpixiedckgirl · 4 months

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okay, so i posted a timeline. sue me! i quit all other social media last year and needed that dopamine hit. just a lil nicotine patch for online attention. seasonal depression is a bitch okay. i posted it here and to ig, bc ig is to late millennials what facebook is boomers. and people have all said some very nice things, but when you're posting a 10 year timeline, you're usually hoping for someone from your past to see it and go "woah! you're so different now"!

and whaddya know, this time it worked. one of my exes from when i was a teenager saw it. not one of the ones who turned out to be a lesbian, one of the ones who turned out to be a trans man. He just wanted to say hi - that he was so happy to see that i looked happy, and that i looked incredible, especially compared to the scruffy twink they had dated. (okay those are my words not his)

he and I didn’t have a great relationship at first - no one had a great relationship with me before i realized i was a trans woman obviously, but this was pretty young. I was really repressed and weird back then, and still very much without any social graces, and we were only like 16. they caught the full broadside of my emo fuckboy energy and got out fast once they saw that - i don’t blame them. I was crying in their arms about how much i hated my new body hair, and how i wanted to be able to wear dresses, and the next day i’d be completely emotionally unavailable and denying all of it. not exactly boyfriend material, not entirely boyfriend. They were very traumatized too in their own way, just realizing they were trans too, and engaging in a lot of ‘i want to be a gay man’ antics, fucking their way through the pain. He was frankly way too cool and sexually liberated to be wasting his time with that version of me. And it was very obvious to everyone who knew what that was 12-15 years ago that i was a closeted trans girl. we had a friend group that eventually fell apart, and we parted for the first time.

Later, in our late teens/20, we would end up fucking - i had started to accept and announce that my gender was complicated, and i was starting to be kinda faggy and loud about it, and not everyone hated that, and they had just started T and were boy horny. We split a bottle of wine (or was it two? It was probably two) and started watching an ashley tisdale movie. Looking back on it, how it went must definitely have been his plan, but i’ve always been blind about this stuff and was that night. It was definitely bad sex, but it was also fun sex - the first time I enjoyed myself, and the pressure of having to be a guy wasn’t so overwhelming i didnt effectively black out. he’s one of the first people i ever talked to about feeling complicated about gender, and i think by then he had figured me out, and was just letting me get the rest of the way on my own. I still couldn’t top for him, i never rly could top for anyone, even before estrogen. but we still had fun, with our hands and with our mouths. and then after that, we'd go to art shows and poetry readings and hang out again occasionally, like we talked about doing when we were literal kids, putting on rocky horror in our front rooms.

but life takes you away from people, and he got into film school, and i somehow graduated my chemistry program and moved to the US. he moved to Germany for a while, although i hear he's back home. i got married, got separated, there was a global pandemic. we hadn't talked in years, although i had snooped on him once or twice. He’s a director now - he’s made some impressive arthouse films, all horror and gender and kitchy campy cerebral themes. He’s got a big tv writing credit on the way in irish tv. Idk - it felt rly good to impress him, to say hi, to remember. it's really cool to see other trans people thriving and living life, always. anyone who cleaves reality to themselves and fashions themselves into someone they can love is someone who impresses me. but it's different when it's someone you've known for almost half your life - someone you were a fucked up kid with, not sure if either of you would make it to 18. and to be smiling at each other, looking at 30, and wondering what's next. i'm really proud of the both of us actually. and i needed that today.

#trans #essay #diary

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steve0discusses · 5 months

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S5 Ep 50: Tristan Hates Horses, I Think

Been a while! Tumblr’s annoying as hell changes to the text editor took a lot of wind out of my sails, ngl. It had some problems they're resolving as they go, but it was really annoying to use and to edit if you write any amount of youknow……words….

And I was talking to a friend about this, and they were like “have you tried writing it in google docs and copy pasting it after?” And I happily realized when you copy paste from google docs, it also copies the PICTURES. This has literally saved hours of my life, y'all. It has turned something that was so frustrating I didn't want to open tumblr again into something that is no longer an obstacle so I can write once more!

So lets travel to Yugi’s brain, where Tristan desperately has to make up for all the work he hasn’t done because he was just a wee tiny bit possessed.

It may be hard to pick up where Tristan is on this picture, and I hope I recorded it somewhere in OBS like 2 months ago when I finished the series because it was such a funny animation, but hot damn this boy has hops.

And you can see him there on the ground in the bottom left corner, that isn’t a rock, that’s Tristan having toppled a man with his bare hands, a man who had a sword and was sitting on an armored horse.

Can you believe this guy ran for school president? And then lost and humbly became the janitor?

Meanwhile, Joey discovered magic.

Confirmation that duel disks are made out of old tank parts.

Realizing for the first time that magic exists, they decide to peace out.

Back in the real world, Mokuba and Roland don’t know where the hell Seto went. Which is weird, I figured Seto would at least leave a note or a text message or…anything…but apparently even if he did, he just disappeared at some point down in Marik’s old living room.

So Roland and Mokuba decided that in order to find him, they would have to take a massive Boeing 747 to find their lost child.

Some kids have a motorcycle, some kids have a scooter, Mokuba just wants the most boring ass big commercial plane that is meant to sit a couple hundred people in an awkward way. That’s what Mokuba wants.

Just Mokuba things.

My bro who edits these for me wrote in huge ass letters "ROLAND SIGHTING" While saying "ROLAND ROLAND ROLAND" so I want y'all to know how much we appreciate a good Roland in this house.

Speaking of, I know it's like season 5 but...who is the other guy? He wears funny sunglasses but I have never heard his name, not once.

But this is when the plane was filled with heavenly light.

They begin to see the fight happening between Seto Kaiba (the OG Seto, the one that is cool and isn’t depressed because his not-wife died) and Bakura (who is now Zorc). Don’t ask me how the time stuff works, and why we see it now of all the times in human history, and right over Egypt in the sky. Don’t ask me why.

I assume it’s time compression shenanigans, just like FF8, so maybe it’s just every moment in time is able to see this UFO in the sky, but overall, it’s here because it looks cool. The fact that this right here is actually not a physical place, but is actually a figment of Yugi’s imagination shaped by Pharaoh’s botchy memories--is neither here nor there. Instead, it’s everywhere.

Seto is unimpressed by this, because he knows how science and timelines should work, and this wouldn’t pass Kaiba Corp inspection.

Back at the yellow palace made of cheese and mario blocks, Pharaoh is still knocked out from that time he summed all 3 dragons last episode, which to me feels like just eons ago.

But it’s OK, he’s fine now.

Typically he’d be dead, because his dragons died on the battlefield and their life force is connected to their monsters. But not only is Pharaoh 1.) already dead and 2.) the author of this universe and cannot die or this universe ceases to exist he’s 3.) got the puzzle, which means he can’t actually perma die, unlike everyone else in his court who is perma-gone.

He is not surprised by what is currently happening in Egypt’s downtown strip.

This is probably every day in Domino. Every day Seto Kaiba wakes up everyone in town with his three-headed dragon princess just because he can. Hell, Seto was doing this fight with Bakura on the top towers of Domino just this morning (or last morning…not sure if time passes in real life the same way it does in puzzle life)

The audacity of Yami right now, the one moment Yugi isn’t there to scream about ledges, this boy is leaping joyfully off that ledge.

He fuses with the dragon which gives him this familiar outfit.

I thiiiiink it’s the same outfit as Alexander season? I’ll be real with you though, I don’t really want to look it up. Either way, good to see the return of putting on a ton of armor in a card game, I don't think we've seen it Canonically since that one time Joey did it against Valon, and ever since then, Joey kind of forgot it was a thing he can just do.

But unlike Joey, Yami doesn’t take the opportunity to punch Zorc in the face, instead he just loses yet another time.

This time he didn’t even pass out, he barely even died. This is progress, truly.

But as Zorc is powering up the peepee missile to fire in Yami’s face (what a way to die!), Shadi has decided to inform us why he’s been stalking these kids for this entire show.

So there’s two ways to read this. 1.) Shadi was Hassan the entire time but had to go back in time from this moment in order to do it or 2.) Shadi possessed the power of Hassan last second so Yami could avoid death one final time.

Both of these explanations don’t fully make sense to me, I’ll be honest, because in order to know that he’ll be needed in the first place, Shadi had to know that Yami would die at this particular moment--a moment that is a different timeline than has ever existed before.

So really, Shadi was just going by a hunch. He was like “I dunno, I’ll see how this goes.” which is more in line with the Shadi we know and love.

Is it a crying shame that Shadi, who has been with us for so many seasons, and it so integral to this show had such an unceremonious death? Yeah. I feel like I didn’t quite get the closure I wanted but I’m also sort of confused as to…what happened. But I’ll leave it there because apparently we get more Shadi content in Dark Side of Dimensions.

Anyway, I have no idea if these images will even fit into a post with how how tumbler does posts nowadays, and I'll be real I had to re upload the last bit of it, which I suspect was over 15 images???? Not sure??? but we found a workaround! google docs works!

Also, Seto didn’t die today! Instead it was Shadi! For a SECOND time!

I cannot believe how freakin lucky Mana is, this girl is still kicking and if Mana survives everything I am…going to be astonished, that’s what. Mana secretly OP, who knew?

And always you can read the rest of these here

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

if I turn it into a link it doesn't work right because the text editor is really, really bad. I hate it a lot. But uh...feel free to copy paste it until I can get links to cooperate.

#yugioh #photo recap #yugi muto #joey wheeler #seto kaiba #tristan taylor #ygo #bakura #yu gi oh #yami muto #S5 #Shadi

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the-fluff-piece · 11 months

Note

Hello there! I saw your Milestone Event and it sounds super cool! Here is my requested prompt:

I had a strange dream, heartwarming, Law, and we end up somewhere surreal like Salvador Dali’s paintings

I cannot wait to see/read what you come up with! Your writing is phenomenal! :)

This is part of my follower milestone event

Hello dear Han,

Thank you for your kind words and weird prompt 🥺

Here is

Law destroys reality (lovingly)

Weird fluff. I couldn't incorporate the heartwarming part properly, but hey, aren't surreal elephants heartwarming in themselves?

Law had been really strange these past days. Stranger than usual.

He looks more exhausted, he is looking around like he's getting stalked and he's been sitting on deck much more than usual, just staring at the water.

He has his moods, but this is getting unsettling.

"Law, what's up?" You ask him sitting down beside him.

"Nothing"

"Law."

"Y/n."

You stare at him with your "I am your fucking girlfriend, tell me or I'll cut you" - look.

He sighs.

"I dreamed that my power is getting out of hand and I open a portal to a hell dimension instead of creating a room" he answers, dead serious.

"Ah." You try to process this.

"Now I am afraid of using it again. But I would have to. But what if everyone gets sucked into hell? I can't protect you anymore and...." his eyes get wet.

You stroke his back to comfort him. He looks at the planks, depressed.

"It was just a dream. I know they seem real often enough, but they're not. Your devil power may be weird, but not that weird. It's a well know power, isn't it? Have you ever heard of the ope ope no mi doing that?"

He looks at his hands, turns them around. His long, nimble fingers curl. He nods, reassured.

"You're right, I am being silly" he says with a little smile. "How would that be even possible? I guess mugiwara-ya is getting to me."

He gives you a little kiss and smiles for the first time in days.

"Room!" He says.

A swirl appears in his hand and engulfs the two of you in a blue light. You always feel safe in his room, where he has absolute control.

He does this thing where he moves you closer to him with his power and he gives you a deep, loving kiss. You look into his eyes and notices something strange around you, you break away.

You look around - the blue orb is more solid than normal. You cannot see the deck or the polar tang anymore.

Law looks at you lovingly: "I love you, I knew you could calm me down" he wants to touch your forehead with his, but you push his face away with a finger.

"Law, your room is weird"

He looks surprised, seeing the impenetrable blue wall around you, creasing his brow.

He drops the room.

The both of you are sitting in a desert now. The sky is red and empty, the ground seems like an endless plane of wasteland. A deep scream, but far away, can be heard. You look around and see creatures with impossibly long and thin legs stalking over the plane. The legs, hundreds of meter long sticks, end in the body of massive elephants that seem to carry some kind of construct on their back.

You feel Law grab your hand.

"Fuck, it's like I dreamed! Almost." His eyes are wide with terror.

He looks at you. You look at him. His expression seems to relax.

"At least I am not alone. If I have to get stranded in hell with someone, at least it's you." He kisses your hand.

"I'm sorry for dragging you in here, though" he meekly ads.

The elephants in the distance scream and move on their storck legs over the plane.

"Law, try again"

He looks at his hand like it was the atom bomb.

"I am not sure...in my dream, there were strange chimeras being tortured in a dark hell by impossible creatures. I don't want to go there." He looks around, already searching for a solution.

"We need shelter. Food."

"Well, the thing on the elephant looks like a house...?" You point out, peering at the pagoda-like structure in the creatures back.

"Our first house!" Law says, already heading for the creatures.

"Watch out, those clocks look slippery" you point out.

"Let's just climb that...uhm...ladder?" He guesses, pointing at another impossibly thin construct swaying slowly in front of the blood red sky.

--------

Much later. Or not that much?

Law and you set foot on the polar tang's deck again after what feels like an eternity. You're exhausted and take the trusty laser canon off your back and set it on the ground with a thud. Law is just behind you, wearing his new slick, black bodysuit. He looks so hot in the tight, dark fabric.

Bepo stares at you, already crying.

"EVERYONE THEY'RE BACK! THEY'RE HERE!" he screams and soon, the sunny deck is filled with familiar faces/ masks.

"How long have we been gone?" Law asks, shoving a glowing stick in his mouth, smoking. He's taken up some habits.

"It's been two days!!! And what the heck is that?" Bepo points at the blue box you both came out of. It was made of painted wood and the words "Police phone".

"I'll let him explain. He likes talking. I am going to get something normal to eat." He seems exasperated and trots off to the kitchen, ignoring his adoring crew asking pesky questions.

The doctor emerges from his blue box, takes a deep breath and says "Arr! Me be the doctor!"

"What doctor?" Bepo asks, absolutely perplexed.

"I think you mean doctor who" you say.

_______________

So yeah, Law is teleporting to surrealism now, you two have now SEEN things. What absolutely mind boggling adventures did you go on? I don't know. I kind of couldn't get a heartwarming part in there, but imagining law in a skintight suit surely warms something in me.

#one piece fanfic #odp follower event #trafalgar law fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x y/n #salvador dali #one piece surrealism

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fandomsnstuff · 6 months

Text

We're moving so i did So Much today to prep my room for staging or whatever, i didnt even get to writing until like. 9:30 or 10, so it's short and sweet today, posted with just over an hour to spare

@taznovembercelebration

Day 12: coworkers au

Lup's just trying to help Magnus out and make a little extra pocket change. Why does shit always have to go sour?

Read it on AO3

When Magnus first proposed his idea for a winter time side hustle, Lup didn't think it'd really get off the ground. Who was going to pay to have someone put up their outdoor Candlenights decorations for them? Decorating is half the fun of the season. But she agreed to help when she could.

Turns out, a lot of people will pay for it. They had to introduce a service to just put lights along the eavestroughs. People hate doing that shit, but she and Magnus run like a well oiled machine. Neither of them necessarily need the money, but it's a nice little bonus to end the ear. Plus it gets them outside during the few hours of sunlight. Take that, seasonal depression.

Lup's up on a ladder, adjusting some of the attachments along one part of the house. Magnus is somewhere nearby, fiddling with another string, trying to untie the knot it tied itself into over the past ten months in storage. “We wrap these up nicely, don't we?” He says. “Every year, we bundle them up so we don't have to do this, and every year they're impossible!”

Lup attaches a few extra hooks to the house. “Just give it a good shake, they'll sort themselves out.” She hears the jingling of little lightbulbs clinking against each other, and Magnus exclaims happily. “Told you.” She snaps the string she's working on into the new hooks. “Alright, Mags. Give that a tug.”

Magnus plus his untangled string into the end of hers, and pulls gently on the join. The droops in the string pull taut, and the lights hang perfectly straight down. Lup nods, satisfied.

She's taken two steps down the ladder when her foot slips. She tries to throw her hands out behind her, but she lands hard against the frozen ground. “Holy shit!” Mangus runs over and drops to his knees by her side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says unconvincingly, “just waiting for the sky to stop spinning.”

Magnus inhales sharply. “Alright, uh, I'm gonna call 911.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“No, I super do. Because, one, you just fell off a ladder onto dirt that's been frozen solid, without any snow to break your fall, and two,” he pauses, and she can see him cringe, “I, uh, don't think your elbow's supposed to bend like that.”

She cranes her neck up to look, and she really wishes she hadn't. Her arm is laying in a way it really shouldn't be. She drops her head back against the ground. “Why doesn't it hurt?”

“Shock, probably? Just- don't move.”

“Roger.”

By the time the ambulance shows up, it hurts. The paramedics do whatever tests they have to. She wiggles her fingers and toes, she knows her name, where she is, the date, the president, all that good stuff. They stabilise her arm and load her up. Magnus stays behind so he can drive his truck and meet her at the hospital.

Once there, they do some x-rays and it turns out she fucked up her arm real bad. No concussion, thankfully. They set the bone, which hurts like a bitch, but she gets a pink cast out of it.

“I always wanted to break a bone when I was younger,” Magnus says as the nurse wraps Lup's arm in the hot pink material.

The nurse laughs. “That's pretty common.”

“I dreamed of having a red cast. Like, firetruck red. And everybody at school would see my cool red cast and sign it.”

“I'm living my dreams, babe,” Lup says. “Hot pink cast for the win.”

“Hell yeah.” He high fives her good hand.

She looks back at the nurse, “how long do I have to wear this anyway?”

“With the complexity of the break, it could be six to eight weeks."

“Eight weeks?!”

“Maybe more, if an x-ray shows that it's shifted or not healing properly.”

“It didn't feel like kids had casts on for that long in elementary school,” Magnus says.

“Simpler breaks don't need as long.”

“Damn.” She looks at Magnus, “I don't think I'll be going up any ladders any time soon.”

“Yeah, god, please don't.”

#taz #taz fic #lup #magnus burnsides #taz lup #this honestly only fits the prompt super loosely but who gives a fuck #it's all for fun and flavour #i might reuse it tho if i pull it again and i have an idea

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goodgirlofglory · 2 years

Text

In the balance - Chapter 4: Put

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3,1k

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, depression, angst, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, smut, non-con smut, vaginal sex, lack of hygiene, starvation due to depressive hungerstrike.

Summary: As it dawns on you how trapped you are, you take poorly to the captivity.

Note: Allright you guys, this is officially a series. It will be 10 chapters AT LEAST!! Seeing I really got myself into it with the set-up of the first three parts, I have no idead how often I will update this. Last time I wrote a series, I had finished virtually every part before I even posted the prologue, so this is also the first time I’m writing and posting parts simultaneously. A masterlist will be made momentraily and all parts updated with it!! I’m excited!!!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you to not interact if the contents of the warnings trigger you. Minors DNI!

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog.

Likes, replies and reblogs are amaaaazing💞💞

You slept as if you were dead that first night, the shock to your system knocking you out cold as soon as Steve left the room.

You woke up alert, instantly remembering everything about where you were and how you got there. In the early morning sun, the room shone in a warm light, every piece of furniture and fabric looking soft, inviting - like something out of a magazine.

A surge of panic had you moving up and out of bed. You found your discarded clothes on the floor and hastily put them on, noticing you had nothing else on you - neither your phone, wallet or keys were in sight.

Didn't matter, you just needed to get out. This wasn't happening.

You made your way into the hallway and followed it down past several sets of double doors, side tables with beautiful flower decorations and little else. Your feet made no sound on the plush, mauve carpet. In fact, the house was completely void of sound. The grand staircase looked even more impressive in daylight. The ceiling had stained glass that painted the white walls in a flourish of coloured light, and the marble of the staircase felt cool under your bare feet. It was all obscenely grand, like a home belonging to someone who didn’t know who they were and had too much wealth to know what to do with. For all his mystery, you would never have imagined Steve living in a place like this. It kept dawning on you how frightfully little you knew him.

Steve had taken your shoes, maybe even as early as when he’d strapped you into the jet - or maybe you lost them running in the woods? You didn’t even remember, your mind growing hazy with the urge to get outside - to just get away.

The double-door entrance was locked when you went to slowly pry it open, and you noticed the second lock needed a key - a key that was nowhere in sight. Okay, next door, a window, anything. You moved silently through the entrance hall and into the living room, remembering how you’d come in through a back porch door the night before. You found it easily enough retracing your steps, but this was also locked with a lock that needed a key from the inside. You contemplated throwing something to break one of the huge, floor length windows in the living room, but that could make too much sound. You didn’t know if Steve was in the house or not. Outside, you saw the garden, the landing patch with the jet still on it, and around, a lawn large enough it could be more aptly described as a field, and behind it, thick forest. No buildings, no city, nothing. You had no idea where this mansion was or what surrounded it. But anything would be better than staying here.

You took a new path out of the living room, peering around corners into an office, a large bathroom, a huge library with stuffed bookshelves in dark wood, big, old chairs that looked like they would swallow you whole and lastly, a kitchen. And across from the large kitchen island there was another set of porch doors - wide open, the light drapes blowing softly in the breeze coming from outside. Your feet carried you towards it on instinct, stepping into the spacious kitchen.

“Good morning,” came Steve’s familiar voice, jolting you. Glancing to your left, you saw him, casually reclined in a chair by the dining table to the right. Great, he was waiting for you, the open doors bait.

You didn’t even halt as you marched for the door, instantly relieved as you cleared it, feeling the direct heat of the sun on your face as your bare feet touched the small porch outside, and then - deliciosuly soft and cool grass. Ahead was another mile of neatly mowed lawn and the treeline in the distance.

Steve’s booming steps sounded on the porch behind you.

“Sweetie, come back. There’s nothing but forest that way, and a very high fence you can’t climb” Steve called behind you, somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. Was it true? Were you so remote? Recalling the night before, you figured any attempt to outrun him would be pointless. And a fence, enclosure all the way around, no doubt with a locked gate, if there even was a road leading in and out of this place. For all you knew, the only way in was via fucking jet plane. The pit in your chest threatened to swallow you whole, and you gulped in a fortifying breath. You wouldn’t give up yet.

Turning on your heel, you marched back up to Steve, shoeless feet not exactly intimidating in the soft grass. Reaching him, you craned your neck to stare him down. You reached your hand out.

“My car keys,” you stated, your voice surprisingly even.

Maybe if you just showed Steve that you were not going to play along on this, he would return to his senses and let you go home. It wasn't too late to just go back to the way things were. Surely you would have a, if marginal, say in this.

Steve cocked his head at you before turning on his heel and walking back to the house.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he said, not even looking back as he slipped into the kitchen.

You briefly considered continuing across the lawn and into the trees, but ended up following Steve back inside the house. He’d returned to his previous seat, sipping a coffee cup. You stepped up to him, careful to keep a foot of distance between you. It was never a good idea to let Steve get too close.

“I need my car keys. I need to go to work,” you said simply. In any sane world it should be more than enough. But your stomach was turning, glooming doubt trickling along every nerve in your body.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already turned in your resignation, and your car is on its way to a landfill,” Steve said, looking up at you with a calm demeanor, no doubt thinking he was reassuring.

The world threatened to spin as you processed that.

What?

“You can…you can’t do that!,” you protested. “You have no right to do that! That's my income, my livelihood!,” you said, voice coming out trembling, your throat feeling tighter.

“You don't need it anymore. Besides, a woman in your condition shouldn’t slave away -”

“B-but, how am I going to pay for my apartment?” you interrupted, mind scrambling to get a grip on your thoughts. Your heart was pounding painfully again.

Steve reached out a hand to grasp yours, too hot as it enveloped your hand completely.

“Sweetie, I thought we agreed on this last night. You’ll live here now. I’ve already terminated your lease. I can’t believe how much your landlord charged for that cupboard. It was practically a scam,” Steve said, and his tone was so reprimanding, it made you feel chastined, humiliated, like a child.

You liked your apartment, your landlord was a nice, old man - the closest thing you’d had to a friend. Sure it was a bit costly, but it was yours. Your safe place, your sanctuary…

"No, p-please," you whimpered, a sob lodged in your throat, your mind quickly collapsing on itself, anguish spreading like a puddle in your chest. "Please, don't do this," you besieged.

His hand squeezed yours as it felt like you were sinking into yourself. Bile rose high in your throat.

“It's already done," Steve answered calmly, his words like boulders pulling you down into dark gloom. "I told you, honey, not to worry about a thing. You won’t ever need to go back to that sad, dreary life you had. I’ve taken care of everything. Now, breakfast,” he ended triumphantly.

You wrenched your hand out of his. Body hunching forward, you hurled.

You hadn’t showered in days, hair greasy, smelling faintly of sweat and grime. You hadn’t eaten either. Anything you dained to eat didn’t stay down either way. The god awful nausea had settled deep in your gut, making every movement slow and strained. Steve hadn’t gone so far as to force feed you. Yet, that was.

You'd gone completely off the rails after that first fit of vomiting. The details were fuzzy, but you'd started by wrenching Steve’s cup out of his hands before hurling it to crack into a million pieces against the wall. Then you'd upended the table before Steve got you locked in his arms. He had dragged you back to your room while you screamed your voice hoarse, your feet kicking out against anything in your path, a brief moment of sweet, petty vindication surging as you knocked a vase over in the entrance hall and he groaned in responding frustration, filling the room with a cracking sound as it split open on the marble. You’d never heard sounds like that before, let alone from your own body.

Steve carried you up, not even breaking a sweat against your struggle, laying you on the bed and pinning you there until you ceased your thrashing, your howls shrinking to groans.

"I know this is challenging, darling. You'll stay here till you reach your senses again, til you become my sweet, good girl again," he said, so easily dismissing you fighting for your life.

As soon as he locked the doors behind him, you bolted from the bed and started throwing things, destroying everything you saw, knocking over furniture, tearing clothes, breaking vases, animalistic sounds ripping out of your mouth. You would be embarrassed if desperate, white hot, crawling panic wasn’t exploding through every atom of your body, seeking vengeance and rescue all at once. You hated him, hated, hated, hated him.

You only stopped when the vertigo hit you, sparks of light dancing before your eyes and your feet giving out under you.

Steve wasn’t pleased by your behavior, but for once he was so uncharacteristically non-invasive in the days that followed. He moved you to another room when you blacked out from distress, and by that point you didn’t have enough energy to throw things. It doesn’t matter anyway, the hopelessness in your chest whispered to you. The biggest fight you could muster was only a spot of inconvenience and a renovation cost for Steve.

The mansion closed like a tomb around you.

He prepared meals for you, but didn’t go further than implore you to eat them. There were soft towels and deliciously smelling shower products from the most high end lines in the bathroom, but he didn’t force you into the shower. He didn’t touch you at all. And you ended up thinking of your lack of hygiene as a form of armor. A form of buffer that held his touch away, let you simmer in your rage - and filth - alone.

You slept, vomited, went to the bathroom, slept, cried, ate a little, vomited, slept - all the while simmering with rage and self-pity.

Steve went away to work on your sixteenth day of no shower and limited food intake. He lingered by the bed, brows drawn down in concern as he took in your lethargic form nestled in the messy bed sheets of your room. You still wore the clothes you’d come in, having refused all of the soft, silken and plush clothes that hung in the closet, creamy and light pastel color, all in your exact size. It repulsed you, how he had so clearly pictured you barefoot and soft, mellow and compliant as you leisured around the house without any protest.

“I’ll be back in a few days. Please eat and drink something, take care of yourself. If not for you, then for the baby” he implored silently, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your duvé. You wanted to swat his hand away.

The baby. You had completely forgotten about that. Didn’t matter though, maybe you’d lose it if you starved for long enough, and then Steve would cast you out. No, he’d promised to keep you forever in that case. Maybe you would die before that time.

You were tired, so tired, and if you didn’t move a muscle, the nausea was manageable. You’d already hurled several times that morning, heaving until spots appeared before your eyes, nothing but bitter stomach acid coming up and into the bucket by the bed.

He went away, and you stayed in bed until darkness settled outside the window. Groggily, you got up to use the toilet, your piss a dark brown as you took in the poor state of your dehydrated and famished body. Wilting so fast in your captivity.

But with Steve gone, you could breathe. And you slowly made your way down to the kitchen, finding a meal of cold pot roast with vegetables in the fridge, managing to get about three bites down before your stomach threatened to knock you out. You drank a glass of cold water, soothing as you felt it go down. Outside, the whole world was in darkness. Shouldn’t you be finding a way to escape?

Maybe, but right now all you could think about was returning to bed, to obliterating, dreamless unconsciousness. Returning to your room, you glanced inside the luxurious bathroom en suite. It had a large tub, star spots in the dark blue ceiling, a tropical shower head in the spacious shower stall and shelf upon shelf of luscious oils and lotions, hair products and soaps that smelled like something out of a five star spa.

You pressed your nose into a simple bar of lavender soap, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasant and clean scent soothed you. You looked at the shower stall for a while, contemplating. If you dressed in the same clothes and got into the same sheets, maybe Steve wouldn’t notice you’d used the facilities you swore you’d forever refuse.

Maybe Steve would die while on the job…

You undressed slowly, nearly falling as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the hassle making you dizzy.

How had you ended up here? What had you been thinking, all those months with his visits? That it would forever stay like that? Why hadn’t you run away sooner, disappeared. How stupid you’d been, just staying put like sitting duck, just waiting for him to do this. To steal you away to be kept like livestock, locked away, your previous life, your home, job, things - everything you’d worked so hard to obtain - taken away and obliterated, like dust on a shelf. Bitter tears stung your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time.

You’d worked so hard for that job, even harder for the apartment. You’d slaved away all your life, with no connections, no inheritance from your dead relatives, practically no skills or talents. Working your way up to full time at the yarn store was the achievement of your life, the stepping stone to an honest, hard working life. And now it was just gone, thrown away by Steve like trash.

The shower was heaven. The warm water battered your aching muscles, loosening your stiffened joints. Your plan of rewearing your old clothes was swiftly disregarded as the new scent of lavender permeated your floating, sated state. You trudged out of the bathroom half asleep before dumping into the messy bed, already slipping into unconsciousness.

You awoke to the sensation of warmth along your back. You lay on your side, your cover thrown off somewhere, the night air chilly on your naked skin. Something tickled your neck, pulling your hair away. You murmured, your lips not quite moving yet as you trudged the edge of sleep. Your neck tingled again, and then something distinctly hard against your asscheek tore you from your slumbering state.

You jolted forward before being promptly tugged back by a large arm around your middle. A frustrated whimper escaped you as you wiggled against your restraints.

Steve hushed you quietly, his breath tickling your ear, his lips touching just under it. He inhaled deeply before letting out a pleased sigh ending on a soft groan.

“You smell so good tonight, I hardly believed my luck finding you like this, naked and clean and ready,” he murmured into your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms and back.

“You were supposed to be gone,” you said through gritted teeth, hands fisting in the sheets in rage.

He didn’t answer, only continued to kiss your neck, slowly unwinding his arm from around your middle, gauging your reaction all the while. You didn’t move until you felt him prod along your asscrack with his cock, leaking tip smearing your skin. That’s when you tried to bolt again, only to end up rolled onto your stomach, Steve’s hand pressing you down into the mattress as he straddled the back of your thighs.

“I’ve been patient, tried to wait. But you’re just too much for me, honey,” he said as he used his hand to prod his cock between your cheeks again, searching for your entrance. “Do you feel what you do to me? The hold you have over me?” he asked, finding your hole.

Hold? You would have laughed if tears weren’t strangling you, your whimpers muffled by the sheets underneath you. What a pathetically ironic thing to say…

He pulled back and spat crudely at your hole before unceremoniously pushing inside, making your flesh yield to him. You cried out at the sudden pain before your breath hitched in your throat. Your stomach recoiled.

Steve groaned above you, his hand moving from his cock to hold your cheeks open as he started to rock back and forth in a filthy grind inside you.

“God, I’ve missed you, you feel so fucking good,” he grunted out, and your muscles slowly seized up, stiffening against your will. You slapped a hand back on his thigh as the pain persisted with his grinding thrusts.

“H-hurts,” you stuttered out between small gulps of air.

“It’s okay, sweetie, it’ll feel good in a moment. Be good for me now,” he said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone, too far gone in his own pleasure.

On your next exhale, it felt like you left your own body. Just went away, floated up to the ceiling, looking onto the scene like a passive bystander. You grew limp, your muscles loosening to a puddle of limbs. You weren’t there, this wasn’t real. None of it was. Steve wasn’t there, doing this, and if he was, it wasn’t you he did it to.

Steve bent down to lave at your neck, his mouth moving up to yours. You stayed limp underneath him, rhythmically rocked on the bed by Steve’s steady thrusts. He tried to kiss your mouth, but you stayed unmoving, and you could feel him grow frustrated at your lack of response.

Good, he might as well be fucking a corpse, you thought as he pried his tongue into your mouth, only managing to lick over your teeth slightly.

You don’t know how much time passed, but when Steve’s hips stuttered and he moaned his release quietly, you exhaled in relief, just longing to go back to sleep. But before you could drift off, you curled over the edge of the bed and gagged, nothing but choked air coming up.

This was what your life had amounted to. This pitiful existence at the hands of this man.

Note: Our girl’s not doing so great, unfortunately. I’m dying to know what you think of this developement!!

#In the balance #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve rogers smut

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 13

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 7.2K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures, @whiskeytangofoxtrot-555, @terry2227

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Thirteen

You wake up with a pounding headache and Badger’s cold nose butting your face. You should have known he wouldn’t let you sleep past 9. You groan as you push him off you.

“Ok, ok,” you say. “I’m up.”

You stumble to the bathroom and chug a glass of water before brushing the wine stains from your teeth, lips, and tongue. You look like shit and you feel like shit. This is why you don’t drink to excess. You want to crawl back under the covers but you have responsibilities: Badger needs his walk and his breakfast, and even though you feel like death, you have no choice but to get yourself dressed and take care of him. As you shuffle around your room grabbing clothes, Badger sits on your bed staring at you with judgment in his eyes.

“I know,” you tell him. “I’m an idiot. This one’s on me.”

The fresh air outside helps a little, as does the cup of coffee you drink while Badger chows down on his breakfast. The shower you take afterwards helps even more, and you feel almost human after you eat your own breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Once you’re done and the dishes are rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, you check your phone to find you have a missed text from Dennis.

D: Good morning, gorgeous. I decided to call in sick from work today. I miss you too much. I need to see you.

You beam as you look down at your phone but the hangover still pumping through your veins has you yet again cursing your decision to stay up late polishing off that bottle of pinot. You want to see him desperately, but not like this. After all these days away from him, you want to be at your best and look your best when you finally get to be with him, and you don’t want to explain why you’re hungover—that you were drinking alone until the wee hours of the morning because you couldn’t stop yourself from planning your fantasy life with him. You take a beat to think before you respond.

Y: I want to see you too but I was an idiot and drank too much wine last night. I’m kind of a mess this morning.

It takes a minute for Dennis to respond and you feel the hangxiety start to settle in as you wait.

D: I hope not because of what we talked about. I didn’t mean to freak you out.

Of course he thinks it’s his fault. Of course he does.

Y: No! You didn’t freak me out at all. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t have work in the morning so I went a little overboard. I still want to see you though. I can’t believe you called out of work for me, you naughty boy :)

D: I just woke up this morning and the idea of another two days of this was too fucking depressing to stomach. I thought maybe we could take the dogs to the park. I know you’ve been talking about getting them together to see if they can get along, but if you’re not feeling well then I can always just bring you some hangover food.

Y: No, the park sounds great. I can pull my shit together. Just maybe a nap first :) I don’t have to be at work until 5 so maybe we can meet at around 2?

D: 2 is great. I’ll just get the shopping done for Saturday while you’re napping. Do you have a list?

Y: I always have lists :) Let me just check it over and I’ll send it to you. I’m sorry about this. I feel bad you took the whole day off and I’m wasting it.

D: It’s my fault. I should have asked you first. Besides, I’d rather get the shopping out of the way so we don’t have to do it when you get back on Saturday. There are other things I’d rather do when you get here…

Y: You really are a naughty boy.

D: Only for you ;) Send me the list and take a nap. I’ll see you at 2.

Y: Kay. See you soon <3

You know the anxiety you’re feeling is just remnants of the alcohol in your body but you can’t help it—you’re afraid to see Dennis. As much as the past few days have been testing your patience, you’d resigned yourself to the fact that you’d be seeing him Saturday. You were ready for Saturday, but you’re not ready for today—for a few hours from now when you feel like this and look like this. Not to mention the fact that you’re scared that Badger and Jax won’t get along. It’s the thing you fear most, because what kind of relationship can you have—where can it even go—if you can’t bring your lives together? Badger is such a huge part of your life and you love him with your whole heart, and the thought that he could be what ends up breaking your heart makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Your head is spinning and your nausea has overtaken you, so you grab a big bottle of water from the fridge and head back to bed. You almost forget to send Dennis the grocery list because your mind is so focused on everything that could possibly go wrong today, but just before you start to drift off you force yourself to finalize it so that Dennis can take care of the shopping. There’s a lot to be done because, true to form, you’ve decided to make more work for yourself by making everything from scratch. You’d wanted to impress Dennis with your skills in the kitchen and you’d also wanted to teach him a few things in the process, but in the state that you’re in, it all just seems like way too much.

No, you think, that’s the hangover talking. You can do this. You’re not going to feel like this forever. You’ll be fine to do all of this on Saturday and, with the shopping already taken care of, you’ll have a few extra hours to get everything done. You’re not going to let one night of poor decision-making ruin your entire plan—that little slice of domestic bliss you’re so desperate to have with Dennis in his big, beautiful kitchen with all the best toys. You want him to look at you and think “wife material.” You want him to look at you and picture a life filled with home-cooked meals, and you want to help teach him how to cook, too, because you know how much he wants to learn.

“Get your shit together,” you say to yourself. “Focus.”

You go through the menu—mostly basic 4th of July fare, with vegetarian options for Jack and Betsy and whoever else might want them. For appetizers: deviled eggs, air-fried buffalo cauliflower, fresh guacamole & chips, strawberry & goat cheese crostini with balsamic, bruschetta, and summer vegetable skewers. For sides, you’ll make the standard Italian tri-color pasta salad and potato salad, along with some seasonal extras: grilled peach & heirloom tomato salad with burrata, watermelon & feta salad, and elote. For mains on the grill, the usual hot dogs and burgers (although of course you make your burger patties from scratch and season them yourself), and then some barbecue chicken and portobello burgers. Cassie is bringing a bunch of cupcakes and cookies for dessert, but it’s not 4th of July for you without your grandma’s famous blueberry peach pie.

You triple-check the grocery list, making it as specific as possible for your culinarily-challenged boyfriend, and send it to Dennis. At least you know he knows how to pick produce. As for the booze, you can’t even think about alcohol so you tell him to just handle that part of things. You can always deal with it later once your head clears and the thought of alcohol no longer makes your stomach want to upend itself into the toilet. Part of you feels bad because you know you’re overcomplicating things; you’d wanted to help pay for it all since you’re the one who decided to go a little crazy, but Dennis wouldn’t hear of it. Still, you hope that he doesn’t feel obligated to pay. You don’t want him to look at you and think you're just another broke bitch taking advantage of him. You text him again because you need to make sure.

Y: Are you sure all this is ok? I know it’s a lot of stuff. I may have gone a bit overboard…

D: It’s more than ok. I can’t wait to eat my weight in your food. I know it’s gonna be amazing. Plus, I’m gonna get my own personal cooking class and I hear the teacher is really hot ;) Go to sleep and stop worrying about it. I’ve got it.

You smile and send him back a heart and a kiss emoji, and then you put your phone on your nightstand and you pass the fuck out.

***

Dennis is slightly disappointed that he can’t spend the whole day with you and he’s a bit concerned that you weren’t entirely truthful about why you drank so much. He knows you don’t drink a lot, especially not alone, and he can’t help but think that your conversation last night had something to do with it. Maybe you felt like he was putting pressure on you, maybe you felt overwhelmed with all that talk of the future and babies and that’s why you drank yourself to sleep. The last thing in the world that Dennis wants to do is pressure you into anything, but he thinks that maybe that’s exactly what he did, even though he didn’t mean to.

But he tells himself that you promised to always be truthful with him, that you’ve never once shied away from a difficult conversation and you’re always honest with him. He has to believe you were telling him the truth when you said that you want the same things that he does. The alternative is too troubling, too heartbreaking for him to think about.

Dennis takes his shopping duties very seriously. You’d sent him your list in Notes, but he types it up and prints it out and takes it with him to the store with a pen so that he can check off every last thing and make sure that nothing is forgotten. You trusted him with this task and he doesn’t want to screw it up. There’s a lot of shit on your list but he doesn’t care because his stomach is growling just thinking about all the delicious things you’re going to make for him and your guests. And it is your party: yours and his together—that’s how he thinks of it in his mind. To Dennis, his house is already yours, too. Everything he has is yours if you want it.

He’s focused and determined as he walks the aisles. He’s been to the grocery store before, obviously, but never with such a specific haul in mind. Dennis generally sticks to the frozen food aisle and the pre-prepared section, but today he’s got to navigate the rest of the place. He wishes that you were beside him, not because he can’t handle it on his own but because he was looking forward to going shopping with you. Undoubtedly you would have been filled with little tidbits of advice on the best things to buy and easy things he could make with them, but more than that, he just wants you with him all the time. Even doing boring everyday tasks—grocery shopping or dropping off dry cleaning or picking up prescriptions—with you, all of it would seem like something fun and fresh and new.

Karen hated running errands but it was the one thing she actually did. Of course, she never wanted Dennis to come along. She always told him she would do it only so she could get out of the house, get away from him for a few hours. All Dennis wants in the world is a partner—someone to do things with who wants to spend that time with him, even if it’s only a quick trip to the store to buy toilet paper. He already feels the absence of you in the space next to him as he checks out. You would be smiling brightly at the cashier and thanking her, you would be bagging the groceries as they came down the conveyor belt, arranging everything in the bags exactly as it should be so that nothing gets smushed or broken. You’d be offering to pay again even though Dennis has told you ten times already that he’s not taking a dime from you. And after he’d paid and you’d walked out and put the groceries in the back of Dennis’s car, you would give him a huge hug and a kiss and you’d say, “Thank you.”

This is how his life is now when you’re not there: all Dennis can think about is what you would be doing if you were with him. So, in a way, you are always with him, but he just wants—he needs—the real you. He needs to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips and your skin. He needs the soothing presence of you.

After putting all the groceries away and taking a shower, Dennis grabs Jax and heads to the park to meet you. His heart is racing all the way there; the old nerves are back. He can’t stop those intrusive thoughts from entering his mind: she didn’t really want to see you today, you pressured her into it. And then there’s the big question: will Badger and Jax get along? He knows how important it is that they do, and maybe he should have waited for you to take the lead on that instead of suggesting it himself, but part of him needs to know now—the same part that needed to know if the two of you are on the same page needs to know if your dogs are, too.

Because if they aren’t—if you can’t figure out a way to combine your fur-families—then what is this all for? Dennis knows he often creates potential problems and pitfalls in his own head, but this one is very very real.

Jax is raring to go when Dennis parks the car but he tells him, “We have to wait for mama,” and he sits in the car waiting for you to arrive. He hears your car before he sees it—that horrendous clunking sound and the screeching of your brakes. Every cell in his body is screaming at him not to let you drive that thing but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. Well, there is, but you’d never allow it, never accept it.

You park next to him and get out with a huge smile on your face and Dennis instantly feels like the thousand-pound gorilla that’s been sitting on his chest is gone. You’re practically skipping over to his driver’s side and by the time Dennis gets out, you’re already there and you’re throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hungry kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that probably shouldn’t be shared in public, but Dennis doesn’t care because fuck he missed your soft lips and your warm tongue and the way his scalp tingles when you run your fingers through his hair. Dennis keeps his hands on your waist even though he wants to put them many other places—like, for example, your ass, which looks like a ripe peach in the leggings you’re wearing.

Dennis has to pull out of the kiss because he’s already half hard and it’s becoming very obvious in the shorts he’s got on. You giggle because you can feel it and you can see it and Dennis knows he’s gone bright red, but again, he doesn’t care, because the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip when your eyes dart quickly down and back up to his face makes him want to throw you over the hood of your piece of shit car and tear your leggings open and-

“I missed you,” you say, breaking him out of his X-rated reverie. “I can tell you missed me, too.”

“You have no idea,” he says. “Fuck. I can’t go on the trail like this, Sweetheart.”

“We’ll give it a few minutes. Besides, we need to talk through how this should go.”

Jax starts barking, clearly tired of waiting to be let out of the car so he can greet you properly.

“He’s worked up already,” you say, “so let’s take him out first so he can say hi to me and get it out of his system. We’ll do it on the other side of your car so Badger can’t see.”

Dennis lets Jax out and he bounds over to you where you’re kneeling down to greet him. Jax kisses all over your face and you giggle as you try to push his face away.

“I missed you, too, Jaxy,” you say. “But I need you to be a good boy today, ok? There’s a very special dog I want you to meet and he needs you to be chill. Can you do that for me, buddy?”

Jax barks like he understands you, and Dennis thinks that he might actually—that maybe you actually speak dog. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least; you’re basically a Disney princess.

You stand up and hand Jax’s leash to Dennis. “OK, so what we have to do is basically keep them pretty far apart at first. I think the trail is too narrow so maybe we start just in the field and walk them around. I need you to keep a tight hold on Jax because he’s just so friendly that he’s going to overwhelm Badger and he doesn’t respond well to that—especially with a bigger dog.”

Dennis can see in the way you’re shifting your weight and knitting your brow that you’re nervous—even more nervous than he is and Dennis is already sweating through his t-shirt with worry. He doesn’t want to do the wrong thing; he doesn’t want it to be his fault if something goes wrong.

“But, wait… Shit, I should have let Badge see you again first, give you a good sniff. God, I’m such a fucking disaster today.”

“How are you feeling, by the way? Because you look great. Better than great, actually.”

You give him a shy smile. “Ok, well, you’re lying, but thank you.”

“I’d never lie to you,” Dennis says.

You smile. “I know,” you say, “but, ok, fuck. We need to put Jax back in the car for a minute so I can let Badger out. Then we’ll just do like last time. He’ll remember you and I brought a ton of treats. Here.” You dig a handful of treats out of the pouch you’re wearing and hand them to Dennis. “Put those in your pocket.”

“Got it,” Dennis says, but he’s all thumbs trying to get the treats into his pocket and a few of them fall on the ground. “Goddammit.”

“Relax,” you say as Dennis wrangles Jax back into the car. “I know it’s stressful. I’m fucking stressed about it, too, but they can read our body language. They can smell it on us, so we’ve gotta be calm. If we’re relaxed, it will be much easier for them to relax.”

Dennis takes a deep breath in, holds it, then releases it, and with it some of the tension he’s been holding in his muscles.

“You ready?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You let Badger out of your car and walk him over to Dennis, who is standing out of view of Jax.

“You remember Dennis?” you ask him. “You wanna go say hi?”

Dennis maintains eye contact with you as Badger tentatively makes his way towards him, tossing a few treats on the ground near his feet. Badger snatches them all up and wolfs them down, and then Dennis feels a cold, wet nose on the skin of his ankles and snoot trail moving up his calves.

“Good boy, Badger!” Dennis tosses another couple of treats as you praise him. “You like Dennis, right? Mama likes Dennis, so you should, too.”

“Can I look at him yet?” Dennis asks.

“Go ahead,” you say, “and flash him that pretty smile of yours.”

Dennis knows his smile is forced when he looks down at Badger, but when he meets the pup’s eye, there’s something so soft and sweet in them. Dennis recognizes it—it’s fear coupled with the desire to be loved, to be safe.

“Hey, Badger!” Dennis says. “Hey, pal. You wanna be friends? I wanna be friends. You’re a good boy, you know that?” Dennis tosses treats down as he chats with Badger, and he notices the most tentative of tail wags. “You’re a sweet boy, aren’t you? Just need a little extra attention, right? Some extra love?”

Badger wags his tail harder now and Dennis hears you gasp. When he looks over at you, you’ve got your hands over your mouth and tears in your eyes. “Keep going,” you say. “He… he likes you. I can’t fucking believe it. I’m so fucking happy.”

Dennis takes another few moments talking to Badger and treating him, and when you say it’s ok, he reaches his hand down slowly, fingers curled in and wrist pointed toward Badger. A few days ago, Dennis would have been terrified he was about to lose an appendage, but not now—not when he sees how Badger’s face has softened toward him, how he’s smiling with his eyes (though not yet with his mouth). Dennis holds his hand just within reach of Badger and he waits.

“It’s ok, buddy,” Dennis says. “We don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to.”

And then Badger, slow as molasses, moves his nose towards Dennis’s fingers and sniffs them. His tongue darts out and he licks Dennis’s knuckles, and you are both praising him for it and treats are raining from the sky for him, and after a few more investigative smells and tastes, Badger lets Dennis pet him on the head.

“Good boy, Badge!” you call out, but Dennis isn’t even looking at you; he’s looking into the eyes of this sweet old dog who didn’t have to trust him but chose to and he feels his own tears start to come.

“Fuck, now I’m crying, too,” he says to you.

“It’s ok,” you say, wiping tears off your cheeks. “Happy tears are always good.”

Dennis is gently petting Badger’s head, giving him a few soft, behind-the-ear scratches, but he knows Jax is getting antsy in the car. He can hear him barking.

“We should let Jax out again,” Dennis says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m gonna take Badger over to the far side of the field. Why don’t we do this—how about you take Jax down the trail for like 10-15 minutes, let him get some of the crazy out, and then meet us back at the field and we can see how they do.”

“Sounds perfect,” Dennis says, and he throws Badger one last treat before you walk him off into the distance.

Dennis takes the trail with Jax at a quick jog, with Jax keeping perfect time at Dennis’s heel. He breaks out into a run after they’re both warmed up, and Dennis has to struggle to keep pace with Jax who is bursting with energy after his morning spent alone and all that time in the car. Dennis knows it’s important that Jax be as tired out as possible when he meets Badger—his boy’s energy is off-the-charts and he doesn’t want your timid old dog to get spooked by 80 pounds of hyperactive German Shepherd.

Dennis sees now what drew you to Badger: his big brown eyes, the eyes of an old soul. Dennis could see in those eyes everything he knew he was when he met you—scared, anxious, desperate for connection but afraid that intimacy will come with violence. He knows what drew Badger to you, too: your pretty eyes, sparkling with kindness, telling him without words that you’re going to make everything ok—that he’s safe now, with you. From the very first second he met you, there was something about your spirit that just put Dennis at ease; it’s what attracted him to you first. Not your beauty or your figure or even your dazzling smile—though any one of those things on their own would have been enough to have Dennis totally sprung. No, it was your aura; it was your soul.

***

You walk Badger around the edge of the field near the tree line, waiting for him to do his business. You don’t want him overtired and cranky, but you want to give him a break in between his reunion with Dennis and meeting Jax. You’re walking on air as you watch Badger track a monarch butterfly with his eyes, just sitting and watching it flutter around his head, and you think to yourself how much you love him and how proud you are of him for facing his fears. You know that dogs have a good sense about people, and the fact that Badger likes Dennis is just extra proof that he’s a good, kind man. Maybe Badger can even sense how much you love Dennis; maybe that was the extra push he needed to be brave and give Dennis a chance.

At the 15-minute mark, you look over at the trailhead and see Dennis walking a worked-out Jax. Even from a distance, you can see Dennis’s shirt is drenched in sweat and glued to every curve of his muscular torso. He must have run Jax to tire him out—good thinking. You smile at him and wave but all the while you’re just watching that body come closer and closer to you. His pecs and his nipples are clearly visible through the wet white fabric and they bounce just a little as he walks towards you. It’s obscene, really, the way this man is walking around right now. You think you might be drooling harder than Jax.

You stop him when he’s about 30 feet away and tell him to start walking parallel to you, and he does exactly what you ask. You can tell Jax is curious about Badger, but he’s too tired to pull or bark his hello. Badger is instantly wary of Jax, but he sees Dennis also, and you can read the confusion on his face—the desire to go towards Dennis but the urge to keep away from the big, strange dog with him.

You tell Dennis to move a few feet closer and keep a tight hold on Jax as you keep walking, and you give Badger’s long lead a bunch of slack, allowing him to walk as close or as far away as he wants. As you and Dennis move closer, the two of you discuss how his shopping trip went and you tell him to just talk—tell you everything—as you’re laser-focused on Badger. Initially, he keeps a wide berth, staying far on the other side of you, but after a little while, his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts to make his way closer to Dennis and Jax.

“Good boy, Badger!” you say, and you give him a treat.

You treat and praise every time Badger moves a little closer or makes eye contact with Jax, who is being a very very good boy and keeping at Dennis’s heel.

“Tiring him out was a good idea. Did you run him?” you ask.

“He ran me,” Dennis replies, and you laugh.

“I can tell,” you say. “I can see your titties through that shirt and it’s making it very difficult to concentrate. You really had to wear white, huh? That’s very slutty of you.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” he replies, looking down at his own chest. “But, I mean, if you like it…”

“Oh, I love it, but I don’t want you showing off the goods to other bitches.”

“You’re the only bitch I want,” he says, a goofy grin on his face, and you get lost in it for a moment before you realize that Badger has stopped and he’s sitting and looking at Jax.

“Ok,” you say. “Tell Jax to sit. Let’s see if Badge wants to investigate.”

Jax sits at Dennis’s command and you throw a treat into the grass a few feet in front of Badger—in between him and Jax—to see if he’ll go for it. He does, very slowly, with his eyes on Jax the whole time. When he gets the treat, you tell Dennis to give one to Jax, too—that that’s how it has to be: if Badger gets one from you, Jax gets one from Dennis, so no one gets greedy and wants the other dog’s treats. Positive reinforcement, you tell him. That’s what it’s all about. That’s the only way this works.

Jax stands up and you tell Dennis that’s ok but to tell him to stay, which of course he does because Jax is a good boy—absolutely nuts, but he always listens to commands; you made damn sure of that when you trained him. If there’s any dog in the world that you trust with Badger, it’s Jax, because he will always listen to you. Even if something happens and Dennis panics, which is totally understandable for a new dog owner, you know that Jax will heed your commands.

Slowly and steadily, Badger makes his way over to Jax, stopping about five feet away before putting his nose to the ground and inching towards the strange dog opposite him. You can see Jax getting excited to meet a new friend, but he’s not overly hyper about it; he’s just bringing some good vibes to the party and you hope that Badger is picking up on them. Just two feet away now and you find yourself gripping Badger’s leash so tight it’s leaving indentations on your palm. Dennis is tense, too, but you can see him breathing through it as he praises Jax for staying. You watch with bated breath as Badger closes the distance between him and Jax, and now it’s just up to the fates to decide whether they smell good to one another.

And now, the moment of truth: the first butt sniff. Badger goes in first and Jax lets it happen with a smile on his face. After Badge gets a few sniffs in and doesn’t freak out—a very tentative seal of approval—Jax curls around him and sticks his nose a few inches from Badger’s tail, which is still low and guarded. You and Dennis meet each other’s eyes over the dogs circling each other below you, sharing a moment of excitement and panic, and then you look down and see that Jax is on his back for Badger.

“Oh my God,” you say as Badger sniffs Jax’s tummy.

When he looks up at you, you tell him “Good boy!” and give him a treat, and Dennis fumbles to get one to Jax, too.

“Calm, cool, collected,” you say softly. “It’s going well. Really well.”

“I’m so fucking nervous I feel like I’m gonna puke,” Dennis tells you, and oh do you know the feeling but you’re so in shock that Jax is actually submitting like this that you don’t even know what to say.

Jax stays on his back for about a minute, and during that time Badger investigates Jax’s stump for quite a while. Jax lets it happen but it’s not long before he bounces back up onto his feet: he’s been patient and he wants to play a little now, and you can’t expect anything more from him. Badger takes a few steps back, startled a bit by Jax, but you can tell he’s not entirely afraid. He just can’t remember how to play with other dogs—what it’s like to feel safe around one.

Badger moves back in and Jax starts to hop around a bit, pushing Badger away and then baiting him back in by bowing with his rump high in the air and his tail wagging. You can tell Badger doesn’t quite know what to do with this silly, crazy dog in front of him, but you can see by his body language that he’s more curious about Jax now than afraid—that he sensed something in Jax that assured him that there was nothing to fear. You wonder then, as you often do, if dogs can smell each other’s pain—if there’s some sort of scent that indicates a sense of shared trauma. Looking at the two of them now, you’d be willing to bet money on it, because they are doing a little bit of light wrestling and mouthing at each other (which you’d already assured Dennis is something totally normal and that he shouldn’t freak out if he sees the teeth come out).

“Let’s quit while we’re ahead,” you say. “Badger come!”

Badger comes right to you and sits at your feet and you give him a bunch of treats and praise him. Dennis follows your lead and does the same.

“What now?” he asks.

“Now I think we call it,” you say. “It’s hot out and I’d rather leave them wanting more, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” he replies. “They’re not the only ones who are gonna leave here wanting more.”

“Maybe you can get a little more after we get them in the cars and get the AC cranked up.”

“I’ll take that,” he replies, and you both make your way over to the parking lot.

After you’ve given your respective pups their water, cooled down the cars, and got them settled, you’ve got Dennis’s name on the tip of your tongue when you hear it being called out from another woman’s lips. In the distance, you see a German Shepherd puppy dragging a very fit blonde woman across the parking lot. She’s got one hand on his leash and the other is waving at Dennis, and you can see the shock and fear in his wide eyes as he watches her come toward him. He takes a few steps back, but the puppy closes the difference quickly when its handler drops the leash and lets him run. The puppy jumps up onto Dennis’s legs the second he gets close enough.

“Hey Dennis!” the woman says. “It’s Stacey, remember? Been waiting for you to call me about that playdate!”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dennis stammers, and you feel your heart fall into your gut as this Stacey woman looks at your boyfriend like he’s a 5-course meal. “Hey, uh, Stacey,” he says. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”

Dennis looks at you with a nervous smile and waves you over, but you’re already on your way. You introduce yourself and Stacey takes your hand, looking wary of you as she shakes it.

“Well!” she says. “You didn’t mention you had a girlfriend when you took my number the other day!”

“I… I didn’t…” Dennis stutters. “You just gave it to me.”

Stacey looks at you, hands on her hips. “Sorry about that,” she says, looking anything but. “He was flirting so I just assumed…”

“I wasn’t,” you hear Dennis say weakly.

“I’m sure he was just being friendly,” you say, the fakest smile plastered on your face while every muscle in your body tenses up with anxiety. “My boyfriend is a very friendly guy.”

She scoffs. “Maybe a little too friendly, sweetie. Keep your eye on that one. Come on, Mickey.”

Dennis hands Stacey her dog’s leash and clenches his jaw as she takes it from him, her hand grazing his knuckles as she does.

“See you around, Dennis,” she says.

“Bye,” he replies, and his voice cracks when he says it.

Dennis turns to you and holds up his hands. “I didn’t give her my number, I swear. And I didn’t fucking flirt with her.”

“Well, she sure seemed to know you,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest where your heart is pounding against your rib cage. You can feel your hangover coming back full force as you stand there, sun beating down on you, and you suddenly feel light-headed. “I have to go,” you say.

You stumble towards your car and grab the door handle as Dennis says “Wait!” and comes up behind you. He grabs at your arm but you wrench it away.

“Don’t,” you say. “I just… I have to go. I don’t feel well and I have to work in a few hours and I just… I have to go.”

“Please don’t leave,” he begs. “Let me explain.”

“I’ll talk to you later, ok? I just really want to leave now.”

“O- ok,” he says meekly. “But I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

You can’t look him in the eye because you feel like you’re about to throw up all over yourself, so you get in your car, put it in drive, and start towards home. You’re crying by the time you pull out of the park’s parking lot and you don’t know if you can even make it home in this state, your body nearly shaking and your head swimming with all the old insecurities. You want to believe Dennis but you can’t help but wonder if maybe he did flirt with her a little, get her number just in case things with you didn’t work out. It hurts your heart to even think about it. You hear the words in your head—desperate, needy, clingy, crazy—and are you all of those things after all? You certainly fucking feel like all of them now.

By the time you get home, you’re so worked up that your hands are shaking as you try to get the keys in the door. Badger goes right to sleep, but you just pace around your apartment, trying to get a hold of yourself.

He wouldn’t, you tell yourself. He would never. He loves me.

But does he? He hasn’t told you that he has, but then again neither have you. You were so ready, too—so close—and now you feel like you’re right back at the beginning.

You shower and ready yourself for work, forcing some dinner down your throat and feeding Badger before you leave. You need this shift to be easy—your body needs it and your mind needs it—so of course, it’s an absolute nightmare. You haven’t had one like this since the night Jax got brought into the shelter. Within the first half hour of your shift, you get a call for an emergency intake: a Beagle found scrounging around on the side of the road in really rough shape. The people who made the call said that they were scared to approach it, so you send a team over to the location to bring the dog in safely. One of them arrives with a chunk taken out of his arm and has to go to the hospital.

The poor, terrified Beagle is muzzled and caged in the examination room and you can hear that pained caterwaul howl echoing throughout the place as you wait for the emergency vet to arrive. After the vet sedates her, you finally get a good look at her and it’s absolutely horrifying: the most revolting human cruelty writ large on this poor animal’s body. Halfway through the exam, you have to run to the bathroom and throw up your dinner. Your head is pounding behind your eyes and you’re dizzy but you get back to work because this animal needs your help. You decide to name her Hope because it’s what she’s going to need to get through what will surely be a very long and very rough road to recovery.

It’s 10pm by the time Hope gets transported to the animal hospital to start the rehabilitation process and you head to your office to lay your head down and take a breather. The overnight staff will be there soon and you’re going to have to hand off a lot of the night’s work to them because you are completely spent and you can’t stay an extra minute after your shift today. Normally, you would stay until 1 or 2 after a rough night intake just to get all your shit done so you didn’t have to burden anyone else, but not tonight. Tonight you have nothing left to give.

You check your phone for the first time in hours and you see two missed calls and a bunch of missed texts from Dennis. In all the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about your afternoon, and all of it seems so small now as you read his messages, each more desperate than the last for you to please just talk to him. You barely finish reading them before you dial his number.

“Hi,” he says, and you start bawling the second you hear his gentle voice on the other end of the line. “Hey? Are you ok? What happened? Sweetheart, talk to me.”

You’re almost hyperventilating and you can barely get the words out, “C- can you c- come here?”

“I’m on my way,” he says—zero hesitation—and he hangs up.

You’re waiting outside for Dennis, pacing, when his car pulls into the lot. You don’t wait for him to come to you; you run to him and you jump on him and you collapse crying into his big, strong arms. It’s what you needed—to be held by him, wrapped up in his scent and the calming presence of his strong body.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice like a balm. “It’ll be ok. Talk to me,” and once you can recover the ability to speak, you tell him everything.

He listens to all of it, stroking your back and your hair and holding you so close you feel like you’re one single person. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he tells you.

“It was horrible,” you say. “Worse than Jax, even. The sound that came out of her, Dennis… I can still fucking hear it.”

“She’s gonna be ok,” he tells you, rubbing your back in the most hypnotically pacifying way. “She’s safe now.”

You look up into his blue eyes, so filled with concern for you. “I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “About earlier. I was being fucking stupid. I overreacted. I should have just let you explain but I-”

“It’s ok,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you insist. “That was so fucking unfair of me. You deserve better than that. You’ve never done anything to make me question you. You’ve only ever told me the truth—and, like, hard truths, too. That was so fucked up of me to do, I’m sorry.” You push a chunk of hair behind his ear and ask, “Forgive me?” but you can see in his eyes that he already does.

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for. You’re fine. We’re fine. I love you.”

He looks just as surprised as you when he says it, and now you’re crying all over again but they’re happy tears,

“I love you, too, Dennis. So much.”

He kisses you deep, his hands cradling your face, and his lips and his touch erase everything: your whole shit day—poof, gone. You still remember, of course, but it’s so far in the back of your mind that it barely even registers. You feel too high on Dennis to care about any of it, because he loves you—really loves you—and you love him, too.

PART FOURTEEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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hamsamwich23 · 1 year

Text

Snowed in (Unreality au one shot)

Words: 1,288

⚠️⚠️⚠️Content and trigger warnings include the following: Implied s/h, implied gore and violence, depressive thoughts.⚠️⚠️⚠️

This is my part of a trade i’m doing with: @phantom-of-the-ruckus !!! they requested something with Twenty and Scout and I chose to destroy them with hurt/comfort. I apologize if it sounds a bit rushed, my head has been killing me all day smh

Oc mentioned: Kai belongs too @/the-new-kiddo-on-the-block :]

PRO//SHIPPERS AND PEOPLE WHO SEXUALIZE/ROMANTICIZE/GLORIFY THESE TOPICS WILL BE BLOCKED IF FOUND INTERACTING!! WEIRD COMMENTS ABOUT THESE TWO CHARACTERS WILL BE REPORTED AND BLOCKED!! THEY ARE BOTH MINORS!!

Anyways, enjoy my writing! I will now crawl into a void for the rest of the month/j

“So…you guys don’t celebrate Christmas, huh?”

“No..well, not really. We don’t celebrate Christmas but we DO celebrate new years by giving each other gifts and celebrating. It’s like a party that we throw once a year for ourselves”

“I see.”

It was past midnight. Twenty and Scout were currently in Twenty’s room, sitting on the bed with his blanket wrapped around the two of them. The bedroom as well as outside was completely pitch black, however, they could still clearly see the heavy snow outside that was falling at a fast rate. Everything outside was already covered with a thick blanket of snow. And with the way it was going it probably wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.

“Why do they wait til new years?”

“It’s because the holidays are kinda….hard for them. They had issues with celebrating their birthday before, And I guess Christmas just..takes a lot out of them. I guess new years just works better for them? In a way. To them it’s a way to celebrate being alive without Owen controlling them..They have a party held all night, it’s pretty neat”

“That sounds cool, actually…I wonder if they would let me and Kai come over and join…I mean, if you all were okay with it of course.” “yeah, I don’t think they’d mind much. I mean….they told me I could celebrate Christmas with you guys if I wanted too, so there’s that” “epic”

Scout nodded, letting out a sigh as he leaned on Twenty, holding onto the blanket. “Riley’s gonna be joining us this time..I’m not sure how to feel about it…I mean, we’re getting along, which is good, she’s trying to be an actual parent to me, I just…I dunno. It’s complicated. It feels complicated”

“And that’s okay, you’re allowed to feel that way Scout, especially considering…everything that happened.” “Yeah…She finally apologized for everything, she’s…she’s trying, and it’s been better with her..I just have…mixed feelings about. Everything, y’know?” “I understand, Scout..I’m sure it’ll be okay. Just try to relax alright? It’s okay to feel this way about her. I’m happy you guys are improving though”

“Yeah, it’s definitely been nicer..Riley even said she might take me somewhere for my birthday this year…hopefully she’ll still want too after I tell her I almost crashed the car..the tire’s still gotta be replaced before I go back home”

“I’m sure she will, it wasn’t your fault, the roads were really icy when you got out of work right? Just tell her what happened.”

“You’re right. She’s a bit of a bitch sometimes but she’ll understand”

“Kai and I can Replace the tire tomorrow, that way you won’t have anything to worry about”

“I mean, I’m not too worried. That car lasted longer than the WAREHOUSE did, I’m convinced that somehow it’s invincible”

“I’m surprised they havent gotten a new van, honestly”

“They were talking about it the other day, so maybe…”

Scout laid herself down on the bed and looked back outside the window “I know the car can be fixed…it’s not…really the car I’m worried about right now, or even Riley”

“Hmmm…”

Twenty carefully laid down beside him, covering them both with the warm blanket. “Are you okay, Scout?”

“...eh, no not really. I’m….worried…I, am always worried about something, but right now it’s…”

Twenty reached over and gently squeezed her plush hand. “What’s on your mind Scout?”

“...it’s gonna be my birthday in a few days, and I’ll be seventeen…then in ANOTHER year i’ll be eighteen. I’ll be a legal adult…by the hosts standards in this Country, but still…it doesn’t…feel right”

“Hmmmm…are you worried about being an adult?” “mmm, yes and no. I just…feel off. Nothing is going to change that much and I know that. No matter what I’m still going to be me...And I’m excited to actually be able to do more….I-I just..”

He shuddered and looked down at his arms. Normally he kept bandages on, at all times. Including at night, or when he would sleep. But right now having them off would be just fine. The injuries on his arm were healing. There were many scars and marks all over..a majority of them were old. There were some that were even giving off a faint purple glow…he hadn’t lost either of his arms since he was thirteen after…an incident with a host, so there were quite a lot. Most of them were caused by him repressing and hiding the fact that he had dark magic. The effects of hiding it were painful and took a heavy toll on him. When he stopped repressing it though, it stopped hurting as much. And her arms had begun to heal. Whether they were caused by the side effects of that magic…or…other reasons.

“..I’ve been through a lot. We all have. And I just….I didn’t think I’d make it this far, Twenty…I didn’t think I’d still be alive by now”

“...Scout…”

Scout didn’t say anything. He just rolled over to face Twenty, who held his arms out for the stuffed creature. Scout quickly accepted and leaned right into him. Burying his face into Twenty’s chest as Twenty wrapped his arms around Scout, holding her in a firm hug.

“I’m here for you okay? We all are…your family, me, Kai…we’ll help you get through this”

Scout sniffled, hugging Twenty and nodding his head. “Thank you..”

“No need to thank me…will you be okay?”

“y-yeah..I’ll be okay..”

“Is there anything I can do for you at this moment”

“I’m tired..I just wanna rest right now..”

“We can definitely do that. It’s late anyways and I’m sure even by now Kai is asleep.”

Scout nodded, yawning softly and leaning into Twenty. “Mmmmm…is it still snowing outside?” “Yeah, it’s really coming down right now…I don’t know if you’ll be able to drive home tomorrow either” “Dammit…I’ll just call Riley in the morning..tell her I’m staying with you until it’s safe to drive home… How deep is the snow gonna be?” “not sure, but it’s probably going to end but being….at least knee high?” “huh…if it weren’t midnight right now, I’d go jump in it”

“Hah! Scout that sounds C O L D. You’d end up freezing!”

“Maybe….it would be worth it though”

Twenty chuckled, kissing the top of Scout’s head “you’re silly. You can mess around in the snow tomorrow if you want, after we fix the car. I can make us all something to eat afterwards, if you want to help with that too”

“You’re so sweet..” Scout whispered, resting his head on Twenty’s shoulder. You’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met…being with you…really helps me, a lot..thank you, Twenty”

“I’m happy to be here with you, and be here for you”

Scout’s tail wagged softly as he kissed Twenty’s cheek before rolling over and closing his eyes. “I’m gonna try to sleep now…g’night Twenty, I love ya”

“I love you too,” Twenty replied softly, keeping his arms around Scout. He felt Scout hug onto one of his arms.

He sighed as he rested his head down against Scout’s back. Closing his eyes and pulling Scout closer, as Scout began snoring softly.

Before Scout slept each night he would let his moth wings free. They were retractable, much like his second pair of arms. Normally Twenty didn’t care at all. They had been very soft and comfortable to rest against…Scout enjoyed having them, he loved flying with them and he loved showing off tricks he learned to Twenty…

But now, he couldn’t help but think he could have done more to prevent the painful sight of Scout’s moth wings…

Or rather, what little remained of the poor wings.

#hello puppets #unreality au #hello puppets midnightshow #hello puppets au #hello puppets unreality au #sams writing #my writing #twentyxscout #unreality scout #unreality twenty #DO NOT TAG AS IZ!!!!

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wo3backup · 8 months

Text

Wishing for a happy ending.

A Sun and Moon fic

Daddy issues drabble, I'm working on my trucker AU its just taking a bit. But I really wanted to give yall a continuation to Daddy Issues.

Trigger warning: mentions of death of family, A-hole family, and depression, but it should be fluffy mostly.

Nan crocheted while listening to a old timey radio station. Its what she grew up with, it was her comfort for stressful times.

And her situation? Very stressful.

Nan knew of her Grandchild, however, she never got to see her.

When her Daughter passed away durring childbirth, Nan wasn't allowed near. Despite being the mother/ grandmother her Daughters baby daddy denied her access to the only person she had left that was her kin.

Two years later though, that all changed. Her grandchild's father and wife perished in a gruesome manor, and the little girl was taken.

It took almost another two years before she was found by the police at Freddy Fazebear's pizzaplex. The daycare attendant apparently, had taken her, and... raised her.

That info alone made Nan's hands tremble as she recalls the police reports. Setting down the pattern and hook, drops of tears on blue yarn, she takes a deep breath.

The poor little girl didn't fair well being integrated into society. She refused to acknowledge her birth name, refused to let other people touch her, and often screamed for her 'papa'.

At first she was sent to her bio father's side of the family. Stubborn to keep what they had left of their late family member was a fault Nan had no right to judge.

However it didn't go well.

Soft steps break Nan out of her thoughts. She looks up to see her Grandchild standing before her. She almost gave Nan a heart attack but she kept her cool. That was the child's nature.

She was finally handed over to Nan after she had a nervous break down; learning of the earthquake that destroyed the pizzaplex.

"Oh my stars, are you alright my dear?" Nan asked with a soft smile.

The little girl pointed outside. Oh, its that time of day already? Nan picks up her project as she walked around the table to the door. "Alright little one, thank you for letting me know." She took her Grandchild out on the front patio, a small snack and chocolate milk in hand.

They rocked in their chairs, watching the Sun set, with that old timey music playing softly in the background.

Nan continued to crochet the whole time, while her grandchild rocked in her late grandfather's chair. Eyes transfixed on the sleepy Sun that was going down for his nap.

But this was the best part. As the light slips under, fireflies wake up to explore the garden. Stars dance from above, and below.

The little one tried to peek at it but was only met with a. "na-ha! Its a suprise." This seemed to deture her adorable grandchild without feeling rejected.

Which left the 6 year old running around the front lawn dancing and chasing the "star bugs".

Once the Moon's mischievous smile was high enough in the sky, Nan finally calls the child back in. Waiting patiently for the little one to finally turn away from the Moon and inside the house.

The paternal family insisted that the child was to never be involved with anything celestial themed. They had even scolded her in the past and kept her inside most days. But Nan wasn't going to.

She understood why they would, she did, but she wasn't going to go down that path. She'll let her gaze at the stars and draw her pictures. The only way to help her is to listen to her.. or in this case observe her.

She usually didn't go out of her way to get her the themed toys. But her project...

With the last row finished and tied off she smiles at the gift. "Oh my dear... I know you would have loved this... I hope she likes it..."

Nan raps on the open door to her grand child's room, her husband's former study that still had his books and trinkets. She was sitting on the desk by the window, a space Nan would often find her.

She looks over at the door, Nan's cue to come in.

"May I?" She asked motioning to the chair besides the desk. She sat when receiving a nod.

"Now, I told you I had a suprise for you, yes?"

She smiles as curiocity shimmered on the child's face.

"Well... I have this, But I do have a request dear one."

Little one frowns a little nervously.

"Nothing bad, I just.... love you don't like your... given name. Hence why I haven't addressed you as such."

A slow nod encourages Nan to continue.

"So...." she unfolds what looks to be a soft baby blue blanket with beautiful stitching. She gently wraps her grandchild in the blanket and then moves for the light switch.

With a flick of the switch they were bathed in darkness.

The next thing Nan sees is her beautiful grandchild, a spitting image of her late daughter, start to glow. Rather, the hidden star pattern that was woven into the blanket. Awe stricken, she sharply looks up at Nan with pure child like wonder, and familiarity.

"What was the name your Papa gave you?"

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

Sorry for the grammer.

But here ya go. Part 1 of.... no idea.

No Sun or Moon sadly. Moon's actions had to have consequences. But we'll get there. Just enjoy Grandma Nan. I hope ya'll like it. Trust the process.

@wrongoccupation3 and @lets-zofifi-stuff I know ya'll might like it especially.

#hurt/comfort #fnaf sun #fnaf sb #fnaf moon #five nights at freddys #sun and moon #fanfics #fanfic #fnaf fanfic #sun and moon fanfic #mention of death #implied abuse #healing #daddy issues won #can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars #fnaf sundrop #moondrop #sundrop #writing

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skyfall8600 · 1 year

Text

Touched By Darkness (Prologue + Chapter 1)

This is an original work of mine, I do not permit anyone to copy or repost it anywhere. If you would like to interact with it or write something similar, please message me and give credit where it is due.

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Warnings: loner!reader, natural disasters, maybe some depressive thoughts, hospital visit, supernatural romance

OC!fem x OC!male

[1.7k]

Prologue

I watch as the dark grey sky lightens up as the lightning bolts connect with the earth’s surface, the sound of the wind rushing through the trees fills my ears and the branches start to bang against the window.

Hiding away in the attic means that I can see past all the trees and the giant lights from the city’s buildings. I can just hear the soft cries from the other girls down stairs in the bed rooms. The younger girls hate these thunderstorms, they just cry and hide themselves from the windows, jumping every time the flash of white light sparks.

I play with my heart locket that is draped around my neck, I trace the engraved letters with my thumb as I watch the rain pour. I feel the E, L and A that were on my locket. I keep my index finger over the little crystal that was at the middle top part of the locket, I loved seeing it light up as the sky was jolted with light of the lightning bolts.

It was nights like this that I enjoyed being slightly separated from the other girls. They all cried for mothers they didn't have, for comfort. I came to terms with being an orphan long ago; no point in crying for someone who didn’t want me.

“Electra? Are you up here?” I hear Miss Kaley say as she climbs up the ladder.

“Yes Miss Kaley.” I reply, still keeping my eye on the storm.

“What are you doing here?” she asks me as she sits next to me, she places a blanket over my shoulders.

“I always come here when there’s a storm.”

“True but how did you know that there was going to be a storm?” I shrug my shoulders and look at her.

“I always know when there’s going to be a storm, it comes naturally.” I tell her.

“Sweetie it’s getting late, come on let’s get you to bed.”

“Can I just watch it for a little while longer? Please?” I beg.

“Only 5 more minutes.” I hug her quickly and go back to watching to magical show outside. “I’ll come back up and get you ok. Also, it’s officially past midnight…happy 16th birthday Ela.”

I nod my thanks to her, not in the mood to celebrate. To me it was just another day, a another day that reminded me that I was not good enough to keep.

I lean closer to the window and I see a small crack in the window, I trace my finger lightly over the crack. As another lightning bolt hits the surface of the earth the crack grows larger. I keep my hand pressed against the window, which was a stupid mistake. A lightning bolt hits the window and I feel the electricity run into my body through my arm. I try to scream in pain but no words come out, I fall backwards and my body starts to shake.

I should have been scared but the only thing that passed through my mind was that I had no family. I had no friends.

No one would really miss me if I die.

My name is Electra Lilith Anderson and my story started when I was struck by lightning on my 16th birthday.

Chapter 1

People always say that they are afraid of the dark, when in reality they are only afraid of the monsters that hide within it.

I was never afraid of the dark, if anything I used to love it. I loved the sounds that whispered in the shadows, I loved the cool air that came with the wind and I loved the eyes that used to watch over me within the shadows, protecting me from the evil that passed me.

Little did I know that my so called protector, was evil himself.

I have always known that there was someone out there, watching over me. When I was 6 and I ran into the forest late at night, I tripped and cut open my knee. No one was around, no one was there to help me, but he was. He came up to me, his hair was pitch black and his eyes were as blue as the ocean. He smiled at me, he placed his hand over my cut and he held it there for a few minutes. He told me that everything was going to be ok, that he was here for me and he will always be here for me. When he released my knee the cut was gone, no blood, not even a scratch. He disappeared before I could say anything to him, ever since that night I called him my guardian angel in the shadows.

As Miss Kaley rushed me to the hospital in desperate need to see if I was ok from being struck by lightning, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I saw the earliest memory I had, the day my parents left me at the orphanage. I can’t remember what they looked like, I only remember their loving voices, how they kissed me goodbye and how they said that they would always be watching over me. I would have been at least 2 at the time and I watch my mother and father walk deep into the forest after leaving me here.

It always plagued my mind, why was I not good enough for them? Why did they have to give me up? It wasn’t as though they got rid of me as a newborn, oh no… they realised two years down the track that I wasn’t the daughter they wanted. All I had left of them was my locket, which no matter how much I wanted to get of it because of the painful memories of abandonment that came with it, I could never bring myself to do it. It was my most priced possession, the only thing that was truly mine.

The next memory that came to my mind was when I was 9, I was playing with some of the other girls when the fire started. We were inside and the fire was in the next room, the caretakers rushed all of the girls out but I went over to where my bed was to get my locket. While everyone was outside I was still inside, the flames surrounded me. My vision was blurred by the bright colours of the flames, I held my locket tight in my hand and tears started to run down my cheeks. I could hear the staff calling my name from outside of the burning building, and what looked like a fireman coming to save me was none other than my guardian. He lifted me up into his arms and he shielded me from the fire with his body. He placed me down, next to the front door as he smiled at me and just like the last time, he left without a word.

I am pulled back into reality by the sounds of Miss Kaley crying my name, I hear the sounds of the medical machines in the room with me. I feel my arms stinging as the doctors stick the needles into me, my heart has been pounding faster with each passing minute as the electricity rushed through my veins. Until it stops.

My chest becomes cold as the doctors rip open my t-shirt, exposing my chest they use the Automatic External Defibrillator when my heart-rate starts to fasten up a little bit. With every electric shock, my lifeless body jerks up off the hospital bed, my back arches and slams back into the bed when the electricity leaves me.

As the hour passes my heart-rate is back to normal, my chest is rising and falling with every breath I take and my eyes are still closed.

“Oh sweetie.” I hear Miss Kaley say to me as she runs her hand through my hair, “I guess your name really suits you.” She laughs to herself.

My name is Electra Lilith Anderson, I was struck by lighting and was on the edge of dying.

The doctors ask Miss Kaley to leave, she puts up a fight saying she doesn’t want to. Of course they make her leave, she kisses my forehead before parting the room. I hear the doctor closing the door and switching off the lights.

I try to open my eyes but I fail miserably, it hurt too much to even move. I can barely breathe as the pain is too much to handle, I begin to softly cry and I feel a single tear fall down on the side of my face. The oxygen mask I was wearing over my mouth and nose was pulled off my face.

A muscular hand cups my face and their thumb rubs against my cheek and wipes away my tear. I slightly move my face away from them, I hear him let out a soft chuckle and he kisses my cheek.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He says but I couldn’t answer. He’s here, my angel was here. “I couldn’t let them take you, I’m not going to let you die. You don’t have to run from me, please don’t run from me.” He kisses my other cheek and I feel his soft hair brush against my skin. “I never did get to tell you my name. I never had the courage to talk to you, I was always a fool when it came to you.” I attempt to pronounce some words, wanting to talk to him. Nothing comes out, no sound, no words. He must notice my effort to speak as he then kisses my forehead, he then softly whispers “Julius Hayes” Before disappearing.

Julius Hayes is my guardian angel that hides in the shadows.

He’s never told me his name until today, the day I almost died.

______________________________________________________________________

Chapter 2

This work was heavily inspired by the following:

- Meg Cabot’s Mediator and Abandoned Series

- L.J. Smith’s the Forbidden Game

Original Series Taglist:

@olipratton

#original works #supernatural romance genre #oc!female #oc!male #skyfall8600

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