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spider-stark · 1 month

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INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

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sunsetsimon · 4 months

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i love all your works about big eater simon, do you have any thoughts on big eater könig?

please ignore or delete if you're unintrested! no pressure and i hope you're doing well 🎀

ORLA????? THE WAY I FROZE WHEN I SAW YOU IN MY INBOX??? i love u hope you're well!!!!

☼ now when we think of könig, we all automatically think of big, and it definitely shows with his appetite. he's a pickier eater, preferring his traditional austrian dishes over most foods. he loves meat specifically beef, potatoes, and bread!

convincing him to eat out is always more of a challenge, but he loves this burger joint that's near your house. juicy flavorful meat on buttery bread, with fries on the side? he's in heaven. you always watch his face closely, searching his light blue eyes as if you could communicate telepathically. his brown eyebrows furrowing as he chews, your table is silent as you wait for approval, which seems like it takes him forever. finally he swallows, licking the sauce from his plump bottom lip, a hum as he nods his head.

"it's good, not as good as (insert austrian dish), though."

☼ he has the biggest sweet tooth, always craving donuts or ice cream. he goes to a local bakery to buy pastries and bread twice a week, preferring it over store bought items, it just tastes better! always has at least one sweet snack before getting ready for bed, although 'one snack' to him is half a bag of powdered donuts. but you love it so much, he always offers you some of his food, a knowing smirk on his face, waiting for you to call him out on finishing the new box of twinkies in the same day.

☼ although he's not a pro, könig loves to cook at home with you. it's fun, following your lead as you tell him what he needs to do next with no recipe. his favorite part is eating half of the ingredients before you're able to use them.

he eyes you as you take the chicken out of the pan, setting it aside on your cutting board to give it a second to rest. you're occupied with making the sauce, stirring the heavy whipping cream into the same chicken pan, mixing the seasoning and oil into the cream. only then do you realize that a quarter of one of the breasts is gone, and so is könig. that fucker...

you find him in his office, his back turned to you as you push the door open. he turns around while shoving the last bite into his mouth, the chicken juice dripping down his fingers. caught like a deer in headlights, he freezes, knowing he was busted.

"now you get less chicken since you wanted to be impatient," you huff, turning on your heel and heading back to the stove. of course he's just laughing his ass off at you, thinking you look so cute and tiny when irritated at him.

#.wbm #cod x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig mw2 #orla 🫶

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canirove · 8 months

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The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 38

Author’s note: And we’ve made it to the end of Declan and Eleanor's story! ☹️ Hope you like this last chapter, and as always, thank you very much to everyone who has been reading and supporting this story. It means a lot! 💜

Previous chapter

Masterlist

"Good morning, your Royal Highness."

"Good morning, Declan Rice" I smile. "See? It still sounds ok."

"Yeah" he chuckles. "What is all this?"

"This is the first breakfast of the first day of the rest of your life."

"The what?" he laughs as he sits at the table.

"Your first breakfast as a retired football player. But it sounded better the other way. At least in my head. Anyway, do you like it?"

"I love it, Eleanor. But did you make all this?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"I may have had a bit of help."

"Just a bit?" he teases me.

"Ok, a lot of help. But I picked everything myself, all your favourite things. And now you can eat as much as you want, you don't have to worry about counting calories."

"I thought you liked my abs. Why do you want me to get rid of them?"

"Oh, shut up and eat" I say, rolling my eyes.

"I was just teasing you, you silly" he says, grabbing me by the waist and making me sit on his lap. "Thank you for the surprise, Eleanor. I love it."

"And I love you. Even if you are being an annoying little shit."

"Who? Me?"

"Yes, you. But c'mon, let's eat. There is a chocolate donut that has my name written all over it and I can't wait to see if it tastes as good as it looks."

"Ok" Declan laughs. "But can I get a kiss that will be the first kiss of the first day of the rest of my life?"

"Of course you can. But then we are eating."

"The food or each other?"

"Declan!"

"Ok, ok" he laughs again. "I love you, Eleanor."

"I love you too" I say before kissing him.

��━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"That was the best breakfast ever."

"Worth it of the first day of the rest of your life?"

"Definitely worth it" Declan smiles. "And I was thinking... Why don't we go back to bed and celebrate that it is the first day of the rest of my life?"

"Maybe later. There is something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes, wait here."

"What is that? A present?" he asks me when I'm back.

"Kind of" I say, putting the small box on the table. "Open it."

"A card?" he asks, inspecting the little piece of paper inside it.

"Yes, a card. But does it look familiar?"

"It is... It is from the jewelry shop where I took you years ago. The one where..."

"Where you got me this bracelet and asked me to be your girlfriend" I say, touching the thin silver chain as I always do when I think of him.

"Can't believe you still wear it. Why didn't you take it off?"

"I didn't want to. And I couldn't either" I chuckle. "But the main reason was that I didn't want to. I wanted to remember you, and deep down I felt that as long as I wore it, there was a chance of us getting back together."

"Even when you were with Charles?"

"Even then, yes."

"But I… I don't get why you are giving me this card now."

"Well, now that you aren't a professional football player anymore, one of the things you can do is wear jewelry and all that. So I want to go back to that shop and finally get you your matching bracelet."

"Oh" he smiles.

"And just as you asked me to be your girlfriend when I got mine, I want to ask you something now that you are getting yours. Declan, do you... You... God" I sigh.

"Do I what?" he asks, his thumb caressing the hand where I wear my bracelet.

"Do you... Ok" I say, taking a deep breath. "Declan, do you want to marry me?"

"What?"

"Do you want to marry me?" I repeat.

"I... You... You..." he mumbles, definitely caught by surprise.

"I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and since today is the first day of the rest of your life I thought that..."

"Wait here."

"What?"

"Just wait here" he says, getting up from his chair.

"What… what are you doing?" I ask when I see him open the pans' drawer and start looking for something.

"I think… yes, here it is."

"Declan" I gasp when I see the little box on his hand. "Is that…"

"An engagement ring, yes. I was going to ask you to marry me, but you beat me to it" he laughs.

"I… I… I don't know what to say."

"Do you remember our first kiss?" Declan asks.

"Of course I do. We were a bit tipsy, and my uncle interrupted us when things started to get spicy."

"He did" he chuckles. "Anyway, my plan was to repeat our beer tasting, but this time in Ireland instead of Canada, and ask you to marry me after. I have the tickets and everything organised."

"Really?"

"Yeah" he smiles.

"Oh, Declan, I'm so sorry. I've ruined it all, haven't I?"

"You haven't ruined anything, Eleanor" he says, taking my hand on his. "It's nice to know you wouldn't have said no."

"Why would I say no to marrying the love of my life?"

"You weren't so sure yesterday morning."

"But then you showed me how much you love me, and all my doubts disappeared" I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"And I plan on showing you how much I love you every single day of the rest of my life. Twice a day if possible. Maybe three times" he smirks while hugging me.

"Ok" I laugh. "Are we getting married then?"

"We are."

"We can still go to Ireland and do everything you had planned, tho. Use it as a way to celebrate."

"Oh, we must go. My grandparents are waiting for us, and both our families are traveling on Saturday because we are having an engagement party after the beer tasting."

"What?" I laugh.

"Everyone is involved, Eleanor. So you better put those acting skills of yours to good use."

"I'll try" I chuckle.

"We are getting married."

"Yep" I smile. "You can still run away if it is too scary."

"It is. I am shitting myself. But I also know that this is what I want. I want to spend the rest of my life with the girl I've been in love with since I can remember."

"You were in love with me but you didn't know me in person. What if I had been a bitch?"

"You are a bit of a bitch sometimes."

"Declan!" I laugh, hitting him on the arm.

"It's said with love."

"Yes, sure."

"It is" he smiles. "Do you want your ring now? Your grandmother helped me pick it."

"No, no, no. Save it for Ireland."

"Are you sure?"

"I… Yes."

"You don't sound too convinced" he teases me.

"Save it for Ireland."

"Ok then. But I should probably look for a new hiding spot. I'm sure you will be tempted to go look for it."

"I won't."

"Sure, Eleanor. Sure" he smirks.

"I won't, Declan."

"Aham."

"I won't, stop teasing me!" I say, hitting him again.

"Fine, I'll believe you… future wife."

"Thank you… future husband" I smile.

"I'm gonna go hide this somewhere safe. And when I'm back, I'm gonna show you how much I love you."

"Here in the kitchen?" I laugh.

"Nothing we haven't done before, have we?" he shrugs, trying very hard not to smile. "Wait here, ok? No cheating."

"I won't move, I promise."

"Good" he says, kissing my cheek and letting go of our embrace.

"One more thing, tho" I say as I watch him leave the room. "I love you, Declan Rice."

"I love you too, your Royal Highness."

━━━━❃━━━━ FIN ━━━━❃━━━━

#declan rice #declan rice fanfic #declan rice imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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marvelstarker-mha98 · 4 months

Text

The Runaway Distance Life Of A Little Stark chapter 30: Last Will And Testament

Pairing: Tony Stark & daughter!Reader, Pepper potts x tony stark, Happy hogan, tony stark & Pepper potts, Maria hill & Tony stark, Ben parker, may parker & peter parker, Matt Murdoch & Foggy Nelson, Steve rogers, Natasha romanoff, Sam Wilson & Nick Fury, Tony Stark & Harley Keener

Summary: Two Families meet and now it is THE WILL

Warning: Tears and flashbacks

Co author with: callikc Tag: @venomsvl @geeksareunique

May found solace when being with friends and family.

She always had.

As she spoke to Ned Leeds' parents, Dulce and Nina, and MJ's mother, Louise, she felt the grief die down just a little. It wasn't gone by any means, but at least it was manageable.

(Pretend This is ned's Filipina moms, Dulce and Nina, up to you which one is who.) "It'll be lonely without her." Nina was saying with a downcast look. "She loved our cooking."

Dulce smiled sadly and put an arm around her shoulders. "She did. She always looked out for Ned, too."

"She loved those boys."

Louise nodded in agreement. "She helped out in the cafe as well. I'd have been lost without her."

(yes this is Hallie Berry as Louise Jones. M.J's mom) "She did?" May asked.

"All the time. If Michelle got sick or I was too busy then (Y/n) was there in a heartbeat. She donated all she had sometimes to keep the place running."

The Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop was a cozy little place.

It was warm and open and Louise took pride in keeping the cafe up to the best standards. It was her childhood dream to own a quaint yet homey place like this and now in adulthood she never wavered from that dream.

You were sitting at the counter with a steaming mug of warm coffee and the famous quiche from the menu. It was one of the very rare days where you didn't have to be at SHIELD or take care of the kids and so you took the day for yourself to simply relax. You enjoyed the atmosphere of the cafe and had become quickly acquainted with Louise due to how often you were there.

So when you noticed Louise stressing out after receiving what looked like a troubling phone call, you were understandably concerned. "Is everything okay?" You asked softly.

Louise shook her head as she put down her phone. "It's my mom."

"What happened?"

"She had a fall again."

"Oh, God. Is she okay?"

"They think so. An ambulance was called and she's in the hospital for scans. I can't leave her there but I can't take Michelle either. And with the hospital bills these days, I'd have to sell this place just to pay half!"

"Hey, it's okay." You quickly set down your mug and stood from your stool to walk over. "I'll help. Name anything, I'll do it."

Louise sighed. "Ellen, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering. I know it can't be easy running this place and being a mom at the same time so please. I'll take care of MJ, I'll take over here for a bit, I'll even contribute with the bills. I don't want you struggling if I can help."

"You're too good for this world, you know that?"

"Trust me, I'm not. I'm just a good friend."

"I don't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't, I promise. Just go see your mom now and I'll cook for MJ when she finishes school. I'll bring Ned and Peter too."

Louise considered you for a moment before ultimately nodding. "Thank you, Ellen."

"Of course."

Louise smiled as she remembered particular moments such as that.

"She was too good." She said.

Dulce nodded in agreement and then looked to the swing set on the far side of the grounds where the kids were sitting. Ned and MJ were comforting Peter as he cried.

"Poor boy." She said. "I can't imagine how he feels. Losing his parents and then (Y/n)."

May looked over as well with a pained gaze. "He always wanted a sister. For days all we could hear was his crying. We never realized how much he loved her."

"What's happening to her apartment?" Nina asked. "I'm sure you have so many memories there. Will it be sold again after the clear out?"

"Honestly..." May hesitated and shook her head. "I don't know at the moment. I'll have to discuss it with Ben and the landlord. I don't think either of us has the heart to let it go."

"I understand. It can't be easy."

"No. Apparently (Y/n) has a lawyer she talked to about this. We'll see him too I hope."

On cue, Ben appeared. He had previously been talking to some of his friends from work and then Mr. Delmar before Foggy had approached him.

"Hi, honey." He said to May, kissing her cheek softly. "The lawyers are here to talk about (Y/n).”

She didn't reply but did take a very shaky breath and nodded to show she understood. Ben then called for Peter to come over as well.

"Are you sure?" She asked, nervous. "I don't think he's old enough to hear this."

"I know." He assured her. "It's just for a little while, in case she left something for him."

"We could just have the lawyers call us."

"They're here now so we might as well deal with it while we can. I'm sorry."

She sighed, then nodded again. "Okay. I guess so." Once Peter came over, they parted ways with Dulce, Nina, and Louise and joined Foggy who greeted them with a sheepish 'hi' and his condolences. He led them over to where a group of people stood.

"They're here." Agent Hill called.

Soon enough, the Parkers were officially introduced to Tony.

"This is May and Ben Parker." Hill explained. "And their nephew, Peter."

After simple greetings were exchanged, Matt also introduced himself.

"I know this is a hard and trying time and I'm sorry to have to discuss this now, but there are a series of requests that (Y/n) had if she were to die. There's an office inside the cathedral we can talk in."

Tony took a moment to let everything sink in. However, as he went to talk, he noticed Harley again. The boy looked as if he was trying to sneak away.

"Give me a minute." He told the others, disappearing instantly.

Harley seemed as if he was trying to hail down a taxi, and he was attempting to be subtle about it. It didn't work.

Tony crossed the cemetery grounds, his hands shoved in his pockets as he avoided the eyes of the onlookers. It was easier than having to force a smile or muster up yet another thanks for their condolences. Harley was still trying to catch the eye of a taxi driver as Tony stopped behind his old friend.

"Well, well, well." He spoke up, surprising the boy. "Hello again."

Harley froze in surprise and whirled around. "I'm not here."

(idk if he was 11 here so just pretend he is) Tony raised a brow. "Unless I've hit the blind age in the last minute, yeah, you are."

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

"I know what you're doing." Tony told him.

Harley seemed like he wanted to argue but ultimately backed away from the road as he raised his head again.

"Don't tell my mom." He mumbled.

Tony walked over, managing a small but genuine smile. It was one of the only few he could muster up that day. "And what would I not be telling her?" He teased.

"You know..." Harley trailed off for a moment. "That I snuck all the way to New York to go to a funeral."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Alone."

"What are you now, like... Ten?"

Harley frowned. "Eleven and a half."

He sighed. "Jesus, kid."

Tony then glanced over to where everyone else was still waiting for him to return. He looked back at Harley.

"Stick around for a little bit, alright?" He asked. "We'll catch up later and you can tell me how that potato gun's going."

With a sad but subtle and excited smile, the boy nodded. "Okay."

"Good one. I'll see you later."

He put a hand on Harley's shoulder and gave it a light and comforting squeeze. Then he turned around and headed back to everyone else.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asked once he came back.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Just an old friend."

"That boy?" Roberta questioned.

"Yeah, long story. Actually, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Of course, dear. What's his name?"

"Harley Keener." He nodded in thanks. "He's a good kid."

She smiled. "I'm sure he is."

As this took place, some others were having a discussion over another grave.

Fury's one.

Steve and Sam were reminiscing on the fall of the Triskelion and how the aftermath and cleanup was going.

"So, you've experienced this sort of thing before." The real Fury spoke up, appearing beside them.

"You get used to it." Steve confessed.

He nodded in agreement. "We've been data mining HYDRA's files. Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship. I'm headed to Europe tonight. I wanted to ask if you'd come."

He hesitated, still looking down at the grave. "There's something I gotta do first."

"How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities."

Sam also thought about it for a few moments. "I'm more of a soldier than a spy."

Again, Fury nodded, shaking both their hands. "Alright, then. Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me. Right here."

He motioned to the grave.

"You should be honored." Natasha spoke up, joining them. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."

"Not going with him?" Steve asked.

"Nope."

"Not staying here?"

"Nah. I blew all my covers. Gotta go figure out a new one."

"That might take a while."

"I'm counting on it." She gave him a smile before showing a file she had tucked away in her jacket. "That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev."

She handed Steve the file as the others watched. It was a very old collection of notes and personal entries from long ago, and, hopefully, it would allow him to find his long lost best friend.

"Will you do me a favor?" Natasha asked, causing him to look up. "Call that nurse."

Steve scoffed in amusement. "She's not a nurse."

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

He looked down, knowing it was very true. "What was her name again?"

"Sharon. She's nice."

Then, with a loving smile, she kissed his cheek softly. Steve also smiled at the gesture before he looked down at the file in his hand again.

"Steve." Natasha said. "Be careful. You might not want to pull on that thread."

"You're going after him." Sam stated, noticing the file also.

"You don't have to come with me." Steve said.

"I know. When do we start?"

"Before you go-" Fury chimed in, drawing their attention. "You might wanna stay behind until after Stark is done with (Y/n)'s lawyer."

Steve looked at him, curious. "Why?"

"Because she didn't just leave something to her father, she left something to the whole team as well."

They each shared a look.

"Now I best be off." Fury continued. "I think you should tell the others."

"We will." Natasha said.

In the private office inside the cathedral, your last will and testament was finally being told.

Tony, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey were sitting on one side of a table with the Parkers on the other side and Matt and Foggy at the head of it.

Hill was waiting outside with Roberta and Harley. "Now that we're all here..." Matt began. "Mr. Stark, (Y/n) wanted you to know that the Parkers were the family she was assigned to watch over. She always spoke fondly and said family comes in all forms and that you're always allowed more than just one in your life. She thought of both of you as her family."

Tony watched the Parkers curiously, thinking back on seeing them earlier. He had suspected right from the start that it could have been them solely because they were some of the most heartbroken looking people in attendance.

He looked at the boy again. Peter.

He was shy and nervous, hiding behind his aunt and uncle and only occasionally peering out at everyone else.

"(Y/n) also told me that she didn't want Peter to sit through this longer than he needed to." Matt added. "She was worried he was a bit young for it all."

May nodded in understanding. "She left something for him in particular then?"

"Yes, she did."

He nodded to Foggy who took a small and square neatly-wrapped box from his bag. With a friendly smile he offered the gift to Peter.

"It's okay." Ben told him, encouraging his nephew to accept it. "It's a present from (Y/n)."

Everyone watched curiously as Peter gingerly took the box into his own hands.

"What is it?" He mumbled.

"(Y/n) said it was something you always wanted." Foggy explained. "It took her a while to configure but she said it would be worth it to make you happy."

Peter sniffled as he found a part of the wrapped box to tear. He was careful, as if handling glass, and hesitated with each movement until finally he could open it.

Inside, on a velvet cushion, was a watch.

It looked fancy, the color scheme black and red, with a shining face that gleamed in the light. Peter stared long and hard as his bottom lip trembled.

The others waited with bated breath for him to tenderly place the watch around his wrist. His hands trembled too much for him to do the strap and so Ben helped him with it. Then, as it was secured around Peter's arm, the face of the watch began to glow.

(Just ignore the Hairy arm) A pale blue hologram shot up from the face of the watch, catching everyone with the glow. Much to their surprise, a female voice came from the hologram.

"Hello, Peter Parker. My name is Karen. I am the natural-language user interface created by Ellen Campbell, otherwise known as Miss (Y/n) Stark. I was designed to work alongside and aid you in your everyday duties."

Peter gasped in surprise alongside May.

"W-What is that?" She questioned. "I don't... What's a user interface?"

"It's... Some kind of hologram?" Foggy guessed, not knowing what it was either. "A video?"

"An AI." Tony stated, gazing at 'Karen' in genuine awe. "She made her own AI. That's... Amazing."

It was over a year ago now that Peter had discovered who you really were.

He had been dropped off at the apartment building by Ned's moms after school and was heading straight to your place since May and Ben were attending a party at the hospital May worked at. It was adults only so you had volunteered to watch over him immediately, and it wasn't like he was ever going to say no to an evening with his honorary big sister.

When you didn't answer the door right away he simply found the spare key and let himself in since he knew where it was.

"Ellen?" He called out.

The apartment was silent.

He frowned and dropped his bag, continuing to call out your name for a minute before finally someone responded. Only, it wasn't you. It was another voice entirely.

"Good evening, Peter." The voice didn't seem to have a source. "I am glad you got to Miss (Y/n) Stark's residence safely."

Peter stared with bulging eyes as he spun around wildly in an attempt to locate a person.

"W-Where are you?" He asked fearfully. "How do you know Ellen's name?"

"Forgive me, Peter. I did not mean to scare you. My name is FRIDAY. Miss created me to be her artificial intelligence service."

"What? That means... Ellen... Made you?"

"She did."

After this processed, he calmed a little, reassured by the explanation. After all, something made by you wouldn't hurt him.

"Are you alright?" FRIDAY asked. "You appear to have elevated breathing and heart spikes."

Peter found himself staring at the ceiling as he talked. "I'm okay. It's just really cool."

"Me?"

"Yeah! I mean, (Y/n) - Ellen - she has her own AI?"

"Miss is very talented."

"She's awesome!" He grinned. "How did she do it? Do you have a code? Are you portable or just for the apartment? How long did it take?"

"I am sure Miss Stark will explain everything." She replied.

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Where is she, by the way?"

"I am afraid she is stuck in traffic. She said, and I quote, 'This goddamn traffic is killing me. Get your douche canoe out of my lane before I kick your ass into next year, you twit-womble.'"

Peter burst out into giggles at that. Not only because it was definitely a thing you'd say, but because the flat tone of FRIDAY's voice somehow made it even funnier.

"A delay of fifty-two minutes is expected." She added.

Peter composed himself, but was admittedly dejected because of the update. It would be boring without you.

"Did she say anything else?" He asked.

"Miss did mention she would bring your favorite pizza and finish the keyboard project to make up for her delay."

He smiled at that.

He then proceeded to spend the next hour of waiting chatting away to FRIDAY and asking all sorts of questions as he worked on his homework for the weekend.

As soon as he heard the lock click he sprung to his feet with a toothy grin plastered on his face.

"Ellen!"

You barely had time to close the door behind you before he barrelled into you at top speed with a tight hug. You couldn't help but laugh, holding a warm pizza box in one hand and your work bag in the other.

"Hey, kiddo." You chuckled, dropping the work bag on the floor so you could ruffle his hair. "How've you been?"

"Alive." Peter shrugged. "I really missed you, though."

"I missed you too, Pete."

He stepped back and noticed the pizza, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You playfully rolled your eyes and handed him the box which was thrown open in seconds.

"Am I forgiven?" You asked with a laugh.

Peter, already with a mouthful, nodded enthusiastically. "Always!"

You smiled and sat next to him on the couch. "Sorry about the traffic. Things were hectic."

"I get it. Too many douche canoes out there, huh?"

Your eyes widened. "What?"

He smirked. "I got your voice message from FRIDAY."

"Oh... Oh! Right, uh... Don't tell your aunt and uncle. I'm on thin ice after the pool incident."

"I promise. As long as I get free pizza for life."

"Sure thing. Anything for you." You relaxed in the seat. "So you met FRIDAY?"

He nodded. "She's super cool. She said you created her years ago."

"I did."

"No way! How?"

"Weeks of insomnia, rock music classics, and a whole lotta free time."

"Can you make me one?"

You playfully shrugged. "I don't know."

He pouted, putting the pizza box down to grab your arm with both hands.

"Please." He begged, shaking your arm several times. "I'll be so good! I'll clean the apartment, I'll bake you cookies, I'll make you something too! Anything!"

You laughed as he started listing all the possible chores he could think of.

"Relax, child." You said. "I'll see what I can do."

His entire face lit up.

"Thank you!" He threw himself at you in another hug. "I love you so much, Ellen!"

You held him close and kissed the top of his head. "I love you too, Pete."

"Miss Stark wanted me to assist you with whatever you may require." Karen explained.

Peter, shaken from the memory, tried desperately not to start crying again. He couldn't believe that even after all you dealt with in your life, both as Ellen and as (Y/n), that you still found the time to make him something he asked for over a year ago. He wished he could thank you in person.

"I hope we can be friends." He said after mustering the courage to talk again.

"I'm sure we will." She replied. "Miss Stark made sure we were compatible as friends were she to have to leave."

It was horrible to have to see such a young kid mourn the loss of someone who clearly meant the world to him. It was hitting Tony particularly hard. He didn't even know the kid and yet the thought of you making such an important gift for him just showed how much you loved Peter. Because of this, he couldn't help but feel as if he had to know him, to understand what it was like being so close to you.

If this was just the first gift, he couldn't help but wonder what else lay in store.

A little while later, Peter had been sent out of the room to stay with Roberta and the others while the rest of the will was read and the mementos given out.

"(Y/n) left a message." Matt explained near the end. "In the case of her death she wanted to leave something personal, to tell her family what we can't."

Foggy had placed a laptop on the table by now and positioned it so everyone could see. Right away the screen showed an image of you sitting in a very big and comfy looking chair with a warm smile.

The mixed feelings could be seen all over in the room. Tony reached for Pepper's hand, scared to hear your voice again, to hear what you had to say to him.

"Everyone ready?" Foggy asked.

A few more mixed looks were exchanged but ultimately each person nodded. With this permission, he pressed play.

"Hi, everyone." You greeted.

Immediately the nerves could be heard in your tone. You were scared, or worried, yet it was clear you wanted to appear casual and collected.

"This must be weird, huh? I'm pretty sure you'll only see this if I, uh... Well, if I kick the bucket." You paused, yet forced out another smile. "I mean, that's the plan anyway. If I do happen to be on the highway to hell or stairway to heaven, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're probably sitting there watching this as part of the will I'm writing. Who's shocked, really? After all, us Starks don't tend to get a long life span."

There were sad smiles around the room as you attempted the joke.

"I'm alive for now, at least. I hired lawyers ahead of time because... I don't really know... Just because. I want everything planned. After all, who knows how they're going to die? I could try the cool thing and sacrifice myself. I could be in a car accident. I could even slip on the stairs. You just never know until it's time. Maybe the threat from all those years ago will finally follow through and I'll be assassinated." You tried to smile again but it didn't work that time. "Sorry to keep joking. I think that's another Stark thing. Humor to protect against fear."

You sighed, taking a slow breath.

"I am scared, I won't lie. But not of death. I'm scared to lose you. Dad, Pepper, Happy, Uncle Rhodey... Ben, May, and Peter. You've all changed my life in some way and I think in the end I'm better off for it. I'm glad my two families get to meet each other. I'm sorry that Peter can't stay for this but he's just a kid and I can't put him through this kind of thing again. He's suffered enough. I hope he likes Karen."

There was a silence.

"Uncle Ben, Aunt May." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I love you both so much. I'm leaving you my SHIELD salary. All I saved up, it's yours. Every 60k note."

The couple were shocked and shared a stunned look. Tony and the others were also quite surprised, mostly because of how generous it was and just how much it was to give away.

"Of course she did." May whispered.

"We can't." Ben said. "We can't take that."

As if you were actually in the room, you began talking again.

"I know, I know." You chuckled. "I know you're going to say you can't take it or it's too much or something like that. But please, for me. You're amazing people and I want you to have it, and I want Peter to have it. Send him to MIT. It's where he's always wanted to go. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you who I was, May."

You sighed.

"There's a lot of reasons, but mostly because I wanted to protect you. You loved me like a mother and I was so scared I'd lose you if you knew the truth. Fury also made the call, and I respected it. You didn't ask, so I didn't tell. I'm so sorry. I'm glad we had some good times, though. Cooking dinner for Ben and Peter was always my favorite thing to do with you. And thank you, Ben, for knowing who I am and keeping my secret. I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me. You might have been ordered to accept me, but I like to think I was genuinely loveable"

Ben and May both smiled sadly. Then there was a pause, and you looked down at the ground.

"Thanks for letting me look after Peter, by the way. I know it can't have been easy letting a stranger into your lives and trusting me with your nephew, but you did. I was vulnerable back then and I guess part of me still is with everything that's happening, but your family was the best gift I ever got. I'm just a normal person with you, and that's a feeling I love."

By the end of the dedication, May could feel tears brimming her eyes. She turned to her husband and leaned into his embrace as Ben watched the rest of the video sadly. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy watched the Parkers both with curiosity and gratitude. They had each missed you dearly but knowing you were so looked after by loving people was a kind of solace for them.

Tony couldn't say the same. He was also grateful, that much was true, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. He was supposed to protect you, you weren't supposed to be forced into the care of strangers. Still, he was hoping he could talk to them after everything to see if they could help him understand what you were like.

"Now comes the real tear-jerker." You spoke up again, drawing everyone's attention back to the video. "Pepper, Happy, Rhodey... And Dad. I have so much to say but no one to hear it and that's the worst part of all this hiding. Still, talking to a camera is easy compared to everything else, I gotta admit. It's been so many years now... Six, I think? I've lost count. The days all sort of merge into one eventually. But the least you deserve to know is that I never stopped missing everyone. Every day I thought about you and what could happen if I came back. I just... I never found the will to make it happen."

You looked up again and your eyes sparkled with emotion. You spoke so softly that your voice was almost incomprehensible.

"Uncle Rhodey... You were my best friend growing up. You and Mama Rhodes were just... Amazing. Incredible. Thanks for looking out for me, from dropping me off on the first day of school and picking me up on the last, even though you had all those military duties going on. You're a good guy, and you deserve something pretty damn awesome for everything you did. So I'm leaving you my car."

You finally managed another smile.

"I hope it's still around when I'm gone, anyway. I don't know if it'll survive and I guess that would make this pretty disappointing, huh? But no, it's a good car. Reliable. I've got faith it's still going strong. Agent Coulson actually gave it to me on my 18th birthday. Look after it, alright? And, spoilers, it can fly." You dramatically paused, grinning a little. "Was that gasps of awe I just heard? It's true, though. Trust me on that. So, yeah, pretty cool. Thanks for everything, Rhodey."

Tony and Pepper shared a look. Not only were you a celebrated engineer and SHIELD confidant, you also had a flying car? What else had happened while you were on the run?

Rhodey was trying his hardest not to let tears fall. He couldn't speak, and, even if it was just a recording, he nodded to the screen in promise to look after the car.

"Happy, you're next." You then said, jokingly adding a haunting tone to your voice. "Although you were there for my dad, you also never wavered from protecting me too. Thanks for that. When my dad was busy with work stuff or other people couldn't make it, you looked after me. I also want to say thanks for not telling anyone about my hospital visit. It's okay now because everyone knows the truth, but you made good on the promise and I appreciate it. So don't beat yourself up or think my death is your fault in any way because I swear it isn't."

Your smile slowly dropped and you became more serious.

"Keep on living, Happy. Protect my dad, protect Pepper, and look out for yourself as well, okay? That's important. Don't retire, though. I can totally imagine you still kicking ass when you're one hundred. Maybe find a girlfriend, though. You're my family and I want you happy, just like your name. Promise me that." Happy looked down at his hands, thinking on your words carefully. Was it okay to feel relief that you really didn't blame him for anything? Was it okay to feel some margin of peace knowing you could never feel animosity towards him for keeping quiet? He did crack a smile thinking about how you wanted him to get a girlfriend, though.

"Pepper." You said, moving on. "I don't have words. I miss you so much. So much. Whether you intended it or not, you were the mom I never got. You looked after me like one and I'll never forget it. I think that when I get sad I'm reminded of our happiest moments, like you comforting me after I saw my first sad movie, or you putting up my first A+ grade on the wall. I'm proud that you're CEO now, and that you've got a good relationship going with my dad. I'm rooting for you."

There was a pause.

"I'm gonna leave my apartment to you." You explained. "I've lived there for years now, and it's got a ton of memories that I don't want being lost. I've known you my entire life and I think you're the only one who's going to keep it homey and clean. You and Dad can go there for days off or something, I don't know. You can spend time with Ben and May and Peter if you like, I'm sure you'll like each other. As for the furniture and clothes and stuff, you can donate it all or keep some or whatever you like. I trust you to do what you think is right. Thanks again for being the mom I always wanted."

Pepper closed her eyes, being the only one unafraid to show her tears. She held Tony's hand as she cried and did the same as Rhodey, nodding to the laptop screen as if you were really there. Even if she had all the money in the world and all the material objects she wished for, she would never turn down that apartment. She would look after it with everything she had.

You took a long breath and Tony knew it was now his turn. He wasn't prepared at all and squeezed Pepper's hand for both preparation and comfort.

"Dad." You said.

Your own voice trembled.

"We didn't get the best start, I know. Whether you were too busy or I was too much, I'm not sure. But I'm older and... Sort of mature enough to think better of it all. I grew up angry and alone despite having everyone I needed right there in front of me. I could see everyone, but I was still blind to it. That's on me." You paused to take a shaky breath. "I wish I was different. Maybe we could've got a better start if I tried harder or tried less to get your attention? I don't know. Maybe nothing would change at all."

You sighed.

"Still, I hope I can see you again without the fear of being killed or losing you. There's been times where I've seen you, you know? On the streets, on the news, times where all it took was a reach and we could meet each other again. But I was scared. I've left something for everyone, and now it's your turn. I hope it's a good one. For one, you get my apartment with Pepper."

Tony nodded once to himself, glad but also sad that he was included at least. Even after your last goodbye, he couldn't help thinking you still hated him. Yet knowing you loved him throughout it all hurt, too.

"You also get something else." You added. "Before I lived in the apartment, I had somewhere else that I called home. Even after I joined SHIELD and moved into the city, I kept the place as my own vacation hole. I'm leaving this place to you and the Avengers. It's big enough to serve as a base or just an intelligence building or whatever you want to do with it. Fury and Hill know about it. If they're still around, they'll show you I hope. Keep an eye on it."

You gave them all one final pause.

"Thank you. Everyone. I hope I can have some shred of forgiveness for hiding this whole time. Thanks for everything. I love you.”

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websterss · 2 years

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𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 — 𝐓𝐎𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: I love your no way home imagines and I was wondering if you could write one where it’s tom!peter x reader where even after the spell, when peter walks into the diner the reader recognizes him and have a fluffy ending please? Thank you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): SERIOUS CASE OF FLOOF

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,303

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Tom!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Pe-ter Par-ker.” You enunciated the pronunciation of the dorks name, hoping that would at least get MJ to have some recollection of the spiderling. “5’8, brown hair, has no game, and wears cheesy science t-shirts under flannels regardless of how many times you tell him he looks stupid?” You looked at her wide eyed. “Nothing!”

“Nope.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. Is she bullshitting you? Is there a camera somewhere? There isn’t…you looked. Your boss told you to stop cause you were starting to scare the customers.

“Okay, I see what this is!” You laughed thinking you were on to her little game. MJ stopped refilling the cup of coffee she was making, slowly turning her head at you with a startled expression. “I can play this game too, Michelle!” You exclaimed as you started backing away from her, keeping a pointed finger directed at her.

Ned who was usually too engrossed with what was going on, on his phone showed his concerns. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s having a stroke.” She tilted her head and squinted at you.

“I’m not crazy, okay!” Your raised voice, startling, an old couple sat in the corner. “I’m not!”

“Who the heck is Peter Parker?” Ned’s face contorted in confusion.

Just then the doorbell of Peter Pan rang out, catching yours and everyone’s attention. A guy walked in holding a sheet of paper in his hands. Peter had gone over what he had written multiple times. He could recite it by memory by now, but every time he read it out loud. He reasoned that going up to three people who he was a stranger to and telling them about how Dr. Strange cast a spell that erased everyone’s memory of him in order to stop a multiverse disaster from happening, made him sound insane. He might as well have written ‘Crazy’ on his forehead to add to the effect. So, he decided to stop being a little bitch as you would tell him to do so, then pulled the door open and questioned how the hell he was going to convince you guys that you were all friends. Though that thought died instantly when you came out of nowhere scaring the shit out of him. He jumped back.

“Oh thank god!” You ran around the counter attacking him in a bone crushing embrace. “Peter!”

“I think he is…” MJ stared stunned with her mouth agape, pointing at you smothering the startled dude that walked in.

“Definitely a stroke.” Ned eyed you curiously talking to the complete stranger before diverting his attention back to his donut and the device in his hand.

“Oh yeah!” She agreed.

“Thank god you’re here! Oh my god, MJ and Ned are acting weird, more so than usual.” You shook your head. Peter tensed up as you kept rambling.

What was this? How did you know who he was? How come you didn’t forget him?

He honestly had no clue, but it didn’t matter because he felt the ache in his heart that was always in there, dissolve. He wanted nothing more than to let go of his longing wish to be able to talk to you…and tell you everything!

“I thought I was completely losing my shit, but of course…you walk in at the perfect time, once again, reassuring me that I’m not going bat shit crazy!” You sighed, trying to calm down your nerves. You stared at him with a hollow smile. “Where have you been? You haven’t been answering my calls. I was about to put together a search party, but…no one seems to know who you are. You’re basically a ghost…” You chuckled nervously. “I guess that spell really did work, huh?” You finally stopped and took a good look at him from head to toe. He looked like he was somewhat in a good place. Yet the eyes always tell what the outer appearance tries to hide. You could tell from the way his eyes watered that he was probably hurting. As for you, well you weren’t much different from that night. Exhausted and stressed out wondering where this boy was for the past two weeks. You’ve been losing your mind trying to find him. Though by the looks of it he seemed to be just fine. Like he wasn’t lost at all. “What?” You asked as he kept staring at you with a longing look.

“What?” He sniffled as he shook himself out of his thoughts.

“What, what? Where have you been?” You slapped the side of his arm. “I’ve been worried sick…” You frowned.

“I’ve been sorting things out.” Peter cleared his throat. “I got a new place!”

“Yeah?” You offered a supportive smile.

“Yeah…” He looked down at his feet.

“I’ve missed you.” You finally admitted.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. His watery eyes meeting your dry ones.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you…” You reached forward and shoved his shoulder playfully.

“I’m here now.” He shrugged.

“Yeah now…why is that?” You crossed your arms.

“I thought that-” Peter looked around as he snapped both his thumbs and forefinger. “I thought that I could try making you remember who I was so I came in today.” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes. “I promised you guys I would make you remember.”

“Well it was about damn time. I was getting tired of you walking by the shop every day.” You teased him. “Although I don’t think you have to try hard with me, I remember just fine.” You looked him up and down.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.” Peter’s face scrunched in wonder.

“Who cares, I got you back!” You laughed. “You’re here, I’m here. Ned and MJ are too…” You glanced back over your shoulder. “Things can get back to normal soon.” You offered a smile.

“Yeah soon…” He half-heartedly laughed.

“What’s with the glum face? Isn’t this what you wanted? Us…all back together!”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I do!” Peter nodded. “But I-” He trailed off.

“But…?” You pushed him to continue.

“I just can’t help but think about the reason we’re all in this position in the first place.” Peter muttered. “People get hurt around me, Y/n.” He looked up at you with a frown. His eyes moved up to the bandaid on your temple. He reached up and gently caressed it, then let his hand drop. “You guys would be better off without me in your lives. I-I wasn’t even sure about coming in here today, but then I saw you and I just-” He stopped himself.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t remembered you?”

Peter choked on his words, shaking his head as he tried finding the right thing to say. “O-Order a coffee…” He flinched as he shrunk under your mean stare.

“You were gonna leave…weren’t you?” You uncrossed your arms and stood up taller.

Peter avoided your gaze. “You were!” You gasped.

“You’re such a dumbass!” You scoffed.

Peter was about to speak up and tell you that he was sorry but you cut him off by hugging him again. This time, slower and tighter. You placed your chin on his shoulder, gripping the back of his jacket. Peter’s breath shuddered as he let himself fall vulnerable in your arms. Closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

“You Peter Parker are a serious dumbass, if you think for one second,” You pulled back to look at him. “One second that I could ever forget about you, okay?” Peter nodded, chuckling with tears in his eyes.

“Okay.”

“You’re kind of stuck with me.” You nodded with a smile. “Deal with it, bugboy.” You smirked as you began walking backwards, pulling him with you towards where MJ and Ned were.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!peter parker oneshot #my gif #writings by juls

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konohamaru-sensei · 10 months

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was bored at work today, wrote some drabbels at the request of and for friends. ( Hawks x OC / Kakashi x OC / Dabi x OC / Shibi X OC / Kakashi x Zabuza / Fatgum x OC / Kakashi x OC returns)

+++

Aori & Fatgum - Write about your ship helping each other to prepare a special meal. for @xxcinnaxx

There are too many hands to keep track off, but Taishiro tries his best anyway, dodging around Aori’s fast and focused movements trying not to get a knife to the face as he hands her the chicken wings.

“I didn’t know that’s how it worked,” she says, for the millionth time, as if even the one apology had been necessary. “I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned it before!” One of the hands falls down and a piece of pork is expertly cut into half.

To be fair, Taishiro can also not believe he forgot to mention it. That his body gets bigger and smaller according to how much power he needs to perform his work has become so usual to him that it doesn’t even matter much. His sidekicks and his agency know that about him, so it at least makes a little sense that it slipped his mind when it came to his new girlfriend. Aori at least, has very little to do with the world of heroes and had never been interested in asking for his quirk.

“You didn’t have to start cooking right away,” he insists, dodging another hand as it reaches for the tomatoes right next to him. “The meal you had already prepared was more than enough.”

Aori throws a look over her shoulder at him, a fierce light in her eyes. “Not. Enough.” She looks up and down his slim figure and then turns back to work.

Truthfully, it feels rare to meet a woman that prefers him in his bigger form, but he is glad for it. Even though he kind of wishes she wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it right now.

“Let me at least help you,” he says, feeling a little useless standing around watching her hands move. “I can cut something if you want me to.” Without stopping one of her hands point to the cupboard: “You can take out the flour.”

“Flour? For what?” He looks over the spread of food right in front of her, mostly meat and noodles and wonders how flour plays into all of that.

The hand that was pointing at the cupboard before now hands him a scale, still without Aori looking away from the beans that are now expertly cut up. “For the donuts, sweetie.”

Taishiro blinks. His stomach is rumbling a little at the prospect of getting to eat Aori’s donuts again. Part of what drew him to her in the first place was absolutely her baking still, the donuts especially. He looks at how she throws the cut up meat into the sizzling pan and then back to the flour in his hand.

“When will you make donuts? Later? Should I get something for them? Filling?”

“Now,” she says instantly.

“Now?”

“Now,” Aori repeats and when she looks at him her eye brows are furrowed like she is on a important secret mission that he is asking too many questions about. She takes the flour out of his hand and while two of her hands stay busy with the pan and the vegetable, two others already crack open eggs.

And though he knows he is probably disturbing her in her very important work, he can’t stop himself from reaching with one arm around her shoulders and pressing her against his chest. “Have I lately told you that you are just so cute?” he asks.

“Y-you do that all the time,” Aori is red in her face. “But forget to tell me other things.”

Taishiro leans downward so he can kiss her. “I’m sorry that I forgot,” he says and brings out the puppy-eyes.

She lets him kiss her, her cheeks now deep red. “I don-don’t have time for this right now! You need some food.”

“Right,” he laughs. “I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

#they are cute your honour #writing this was like a sweet treat #yum yum #what? you say this hero academy is for me?#fic tag

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themculibrary · 2 years

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Fics Written In 2022 (so far) Masterlist

A Clean Cut (ao3) - Brucenorris007 mj/peter T, 25k

Summary: Peter ended up outside Peter Pan Donuts without conscious effort. He convinced himself he could keep this much of the two people he loved the most.

Meanwhile, Michelle found herself wondering about a brown-eyed boy who left a mediocre donut shop looking like he'd lost something.

A World Without (ao3) - fundamentalBlue steve/tony T, 30k

Summary: Tony snaps—and then he wakes up.

Baby in a box (ao3) - Lokilover669 G, 16k

Summary: Loki adopts a baby he found in a box in an alleyway. He knew it would change his life but he didn’t know it would change this much.

come over (we don’t need no reason why) (ao3) - anyorangeslices scott/hope E, 39k

Summary: ‘Hope van Dyne really hates dating apps, but she doesn’t let that stop her from using them.’

Hope matches with Scott on Tinder. They try - and fail - to keep things casual.

Finite State (ao3) - Scarlet_Ribbons peter/wade E, 34k

Summary: “Hiya, Peter,” Deadpool is standing there in all his red and black glory, sounding deceptively cheerful. All too cheerful, in fact, for a gun resting against one muscular thigh and a hand reaching back to, no doubt, grab a katana. “Peter Parker,” Deadpool continues, saying his name like he wants to bite into it. It’s actually kind of hot. God. Focus, Peter. Is Deadpool seriously going to try to kill him now?

All too late, Peter realizes that Spider-Man never responded to Deadpool’s messages.

When he's blackmailed by, of all people, a weird work acquaintance who needs Spider-Man gone for obviously illegal purposes, Peter is forced to hang up the suit- at least temporarily -until he can resolve the situation. Unfortunately, things start to get sticky when Deadpool, who Spider-Man's been on-again off-again with (okay, yeah, lowkey messing around with), crashes into Peter's life and demands the photographer help him figure out what's got his favorite webhead so spooked.

Peter's life is really weird.

In Recovery (ao3) - FestiveFerret steve/tony T, 10k

Summary: "Excuse me?" Tony mock-cleaned his ear. "I what?"

Fury sighed, like this was the last conversation he was hoping to have that morning. "We found him in the ice. And you, technically, have ownership rights to Captain Rogers' body."

I Think I Missed a Step ('Cause I'm Fallin' For You) (ao3) - mokuyoubi peter/wade, steve/bucky E, 41k

Summary:

There’s a weird familiarity about the kid's tone and posture, and it’s true that Wade is pretty far from home today but he’s also certain he’d remember that baby-face if he’d seen it before. On the other hand, he has spent the better part of the past few years feeling like he’s missed a step, so this conversation isn’t exactly anything new. [[A hot guy is willingly talking to us. Go with it.]] [Don’t make an ass of yourself.] “Shaddup,” Wade grumbles, though Yellow has a point... OR Peter thinks Wade knows his secret identity, and Wade is really confused by the hot coed who keeps popping up and hanging out with him.

just between us (did the love affair maim you too?) (ao3) - dharmainitiative bucky/sam E, 33k

Summary: “So, guess you’re headed back to Wakanda?”

“I might,” Bucky says. “Honestly, I was banking on going back to Brooklyn. Closest thing I’ve got to home, so, just made sense. But seeing as I’m a fugitive…” He glances over at Sam with a wry smile. “Why, what about you?”

“Rhodey found a spot,” Sam says. “Some safe house on the outskirts of the city. Hasn’t been used in a few years, so, gonna head there and stay low till the pardon is official. Or try to, anyway.”

Bucky is quiet for a minute before he turns to Sam and asks, “Want some company?”

lovestruck (ao3) - frogboyfrog M, 38k

Summary: on the recovery from a traumatic past, peter stark-rogers was doing better than ever. his two loving, doting dads were his sole supports, but if anyone could hold a fourteen year old boy up, it was iron-man and captain america.

and then everything got worse again.

enter: high-school.

Nonexistent Heart (ao3) - KatinaMoon M, 21k

Summary: "Please," the man begged, outstretched hand trembling.

He knew those blue eyes and that ashy, blonde hair. Those hands, now held out pleadingly in his direction, had once pressed deep bruises into his skin.

*****

When Parker Luck forces Peter face to face with the demons of his past, he has to deal with the fall-out of things he'd tried to forget.

Tony, in turn, has to deal with the fall-out of allowing himself to care about someone. To care so deeply that their hurt becomes yours.

Splashing in the Waves (ao3) - Buckybeardreams, Stuckonylover (Buckybeardreams) bucky/steve/tony E, 16k

Summary: Tony's been with Steve and Bucky for years now and settled into their relationship and their dynamics, but he might just be done splashing in the shallow end and ready to dive deeper and explore more kinks with them.

Strange Brew (ao3) - ldyjaydin mj/peter T, 10k

Summary: Peter knows he should accept that being alone was his punishment for messing up the spell, but he couldn't stop himself from visiting MJ at the donut shop. Yet, everything changes when he gets badly injured. Spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home! This story is finished and a new chapter will be posted daily.

The Coldest War (ao3) - BlackChickenSoup kate/yelena G, 26k

Summary: Spy AU. Kate Bishop works for the CIA, tasked to apprehend a notorious international thief, Yelena Belova.

Together, they play a game of cat and mouse across Europe.

the sparrow (ao3) - cm (mumblemutter) bucky/sam E, 16k

Summary: They send someone to take Bucky out.

Sam finds him in Europe.

these streets will make you feel brand new (ao3) - cherotonin peter/wade T, 8k

Summary:

“Listen, Pete, I need you to just think about what you’re refusing here. $25,000 is a lot of money.” Pulling his mask back on, Peter steps back. “I didn’t need to go to the hospital in the first place, and I don’t need to accept your money, either, Tony, as much as I appreciate the offer. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

After a well-intending citizen delivers a critically injured Spider-Man to the emergency room, Peter Parker finds himself neck-deep in hospital bills, on top of the whole full-time student/boyfriend/nephew, part-time Stark Industries research intern/freelance photographer/masked vigilante thing. It's really throwing a wrench into things, especially since everyone keeps insisting that they help pay for it. Seriously, it's fine. Peter will figure it out somehow. He'll manage, like always does.

Or, when Spider-Man falls, New York helps him back up. After all, what's a superhero without the friendly neighborhood at his back?

Together, we'll both be warmer (ao3) - MedeaV bucky/natasha E, 12k

Summary: He already knew he liked her. What he didn't know was that as soon as she acted like she really likes him, he'd jump on it like a hungry wolf, regardless that it's just for a cover. Willful blindness. And now that they're probably about to die, he maybe overreacts a little.

We Need A Plan (ao3) - Chazza678 T, 27k

Summary: Peter overhears a strange conversation on the phone about a Black Widow. He is determined to find answers.

Set after 'No Way Home' and 'Hawkeye'.

your braids like a pattern (love you to the moon & to saturn) (ao3) - archers_and_spies clint/natasha T, 17k

Summary: Natasha Romanoff meets Clint Barton in a salon in Iowa. He teaches her what trust means and she keeps coming back.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #2022 #2022 masterlist #masterlists

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bishiglomper · 6 months

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The house is super bad. Even the little paths are disappearing. Clothes are all over the flippin place.

So I got up hoping I'd be able to at least bag up all the loose clothes.

Mommy and Sissy are having bad mental health days. Mom still cant eat and is always in pain. She needs to call the doctor but neither of them can m do big girl things today. I would try but I dont articulate well and i want her taken seriously.

I cant do anything for anyone. So i wanted to at least make it more habitable.. But my body is such a weak piece of crap

Sissy asked me for coffee as soon as i came down. So i made us coffee. And we split the last donut. I saw she had a pan she used for eggs on the stove. Somehow i managed to make myself 2 over-easy eggs on toast. They were beautiful. And yummy.

So fortified with coffee AND breakfast, as soon a sissy fell asleep i sat on the floor and made my way down the 3×12 ft area from the basement door to the entrance to the living room all behind the back of the couch. Bagging up clothes and trash. Tidied up this super cluttered area around our board game cupoard that was just spilled all over.

By the time i was done with that i was exhausted, out of breath and soaking wet. I mean, i did get up and do some bending over and picking up but only in the last 5 minutes.

I think it took me almost an hour. Mentally I'm good, by my body is like "fuck you, I'm out"

I feel pooped.

Which is. So frustrating. I used to be able to work 4 hours. Then it was 2 hours... Now its barely one. And I am not fast. So it's not even an impressive almost-hour. 😩

#just whining #lets see if i regret being productive tomorrow. if not im hoping to convince myself to do this again...

0 notes

lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

Text

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

#bnha mermay #mermaid au #siren!shinsou #mermaid!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #trident tale

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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Summary: Steve thinks you’re too young to like him despite the obvious hints you’re dropping.

Warnings: unspecified age gap

Word count: 2246

a/n: I’ve clearly spent too much time on TikTok recently, but inspired me to write something so that's good. It was loosely based on a request for a young reader x Steve, but I forgot part of the request so I'm gonna write something else for that one! Also, I wrote this on my phone so please excuse any typos I missed when trying to edit it lol

Masterlist

Messing with Steve is one of your favorite things to do. Tiny pranks, over the top flirting, poking fun at his lack of understanding of technology. Anything you can do to get him to roll his eyes and chuckle.

Nat would say it’s because of your feelings for him. She would be correct. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone. Nope. So instead, you have your fun, and enjoy the way his eyes crinkle and his cheeks redden.

Your newest method of hearing the sweet sound of Steve’s laugh? TikTok. It’s a double whammy. One because he doesn’t understand the app and two because a lot of the trends make him blush.

It started as a fun way to blow off steam. Sometimes, being one of the younger and newer team members made you feel like an outsider. Of course, Peter was younger than you, but he had his own friends outside of the team. You didn’t have anyone else. When Tony found you and invited you to join, it was you against the world. Now you have this makeshift family.

Having your account on TikTok helped you when you hadn’t really become a part of the group yet. You bonded with Peter because of his account, and you found a new way to make Steve blush.

Anyway, you’ve learned way more TikTok dances than you ever would have thought just to see his pink cheeks. It’s not even always over the top dances that have him chuckling. The last trend you did had him laughing the entire day. It was that sound about Wednesday Adams having one thing on her mind. Only when it said homicide, instead of a deadpan expression you panned the camera to show Bucky and Sam arguing over who got the last donut.

Of course, you knew when you made the video it would appeal to Steve’s sense of humor. Sam and Bucky feature in a lot of your videos for that exact reason.

In general, you make a lot of videos featuring the Avengers just to keep Tony happy. He likes to be the center of attention, plus the only way he would approve of your account was if it could also feature as PR for the team. You agreed, as long as you had final say over what you posted. There’s nothing scripted or designed for a specific reason, you just feature the team sometimes.

Like when that sound from the Big Bang theory was popular amongst Avengers fans, you made a video confessing to Pepper that you’d been thinking about the Avengers, panning to show the team during training.

Of course, the text on the screen said “you are an Avenger” instead of “I believe that”, allowing you to play off the joke. But still, it was fun to include the team.

One of your favorite videos features none other than Scott Lang, mostly because nobody else would do it. Scott thought it was hilarious though.

Using the sound from New Girl, Scott played Schmidt and you Jess. The text on the screen read as follows:

Scott: You just walk around all day thinking about America’s Ass?

You: Yeah, don’t you?

Scott: No! How do you get anything done?

You: It’s hard…

Steve blushed like crazy when everyone cornered him to watch it. Bucky, Sam, and Tony wouldn’t stop bringing it up for at least a month. A part of you hoped he might make a move after that video, seeing as you put yourself out there, but he just assumed it was a joke and laughed it off.

Honestly, you were running out of trends that you could use to get him to understand your feelings. You only had two ideas left, and one of them would be mortifying if it didn’t work out…

“Steve. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bucky sighed, exasperated with Steve for the umpteenth time that month. “You’ve been pining for forever, just make a move!” he whisper yelled, doing his best not to throttle his lifelong friend.

Steve rolled his eyes, purposefully ignoring Bucky’s pointed glare. The two men had spent the last hour looking through your TikTok account. Bucky was adamant that you liked Steve, but the blonde didn’t believe it, despite the so called proof Bucky kept forcing him to watch.

“Buck, would you please just back off? We’re friends. She’s too young to want to be with me like that.” Steve blushed, thinking about the context of his words.

Before Bucky could say anything about how repressing his feelings is bad for him, a new video popped up on your account. Bucky smirked when he saw the thumbnail was once again a picture of Steve, this time with a beard. Steve took the silence as an opportunity to escape, walking into his closet to change.

The video opened with a video of you and Natasha just hanging out, you lip syncing to the words “I like you have a cupcake.” You repeated the words as the video cut to you and Tony.

Bucky nearly dropped the phone when “smack my ass like a drum” blared from the speaker. He cackled bending over in a fit of laughter when he realized that’s what Steve’s picture was used for- and one where he had a beard to boot.

“What is it now, jerk?” Steve emerged from his closet, having changed into loungewear. The sight of Bucky fully cackling had him nervous.

Bucky tossed him the phone, doing his best to stop laughing long enough to tell him to watch the most recent video. With a hesitant sigh, Steve obliged.

Again, Bucky rolled his eyes at how obvious Steve’s feelings were. The second he saw you on the screen, he smiled. And not one of those half hearted polite smiles, a full on happy smile.

Steve’s eyes widened, nearly bulging out of his head when he got to the end of the video.

“‘She doesn’t want to be with me like that.’” Bucky mocked his friends earlier words, grabbing his phone back. “Punk, I don’t know how much more obvious she could be.”

With one more glare in Steve’s direction, Bucky finally left him to his own thoughts. Okay, so you made a lot of videos about how you find him attractive. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’d want to be in a relationship with him. Leave it to Steve to talk himself out of everything Bucky had spent so long trying to convince him of.

You were desperate at this point. You honestly thought the cupcake one would send him over the edge, but it didn’t work either. It has been three days, and you know Steve’s seen the video because everyone likes to tease him about it.

“Naaaaaat, it’s not working,” you whined, dramatically throwing yourself onto her bed. She laughed at your antics, briefly looking up at you before deciding to stop what she was going and give you her full attention.

“Look, not only is Steve one of the most clueless people I’ve ever met when it comes to women, but he can also talk himself out of believing someone’s interested in him. Especially you.” Nat watched as you lifted your head from her comforter, slowly turning to stare at her with narrowed eyes.

“Especially me?” you questioned. Why would you have a different standard?

“Y/N, Steve’s from the 40s. He’s super old fashioned. You're a hot young thing, super up to date on modern trends. He thinks you're just messing around as friends because he doesn’t believe someone as young as you would be interested in actually having a relationship with him,” she spelt it out for you, sick of trying to get you to figure it out on your own.

You took a minute to fully understand what she was saying, but then sat up when a new idea struck. “So you’re saying I need to be more direct?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I’ve got an idea. Thanks Nat!” you ran from the room before she could question your newest plan, instead checking to make sure her notifications were on for posts from your TikTok account.

“Steve!” you shouted when you saw him down the hall, about to turn a corner. He immediately stopped, turning back to see you running at him. “I need your help!”

You pulled him into the gym, briefly glancing around the room to make sure it was empty. Confirming nobody else was present, you set up your phone on one of the weight racks to record the two of you. It was already open to the recording section of TikTok, the sound you needed queued and ready to begin.

“What’s going on?” Steve looked between you and the phone, nerves heightening as he realized what you were doing. All of your videos about him thus far hasn’t actually involved him filming anything.

“I just need you to react to this trend, okay? It’s kind of old, but that doesn’t really matter,” you spoke quickly, trying to start the video before he could decline.

The music started playing instantly, with Steve awkwardly looking between the screen and you. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was reacting to, and it had him on edge. Just as the song reached the chorus, you turned and grabbed his face. Throwing caution to the wind, you followed through with your plan before you could back out, kissing him with all the passion and emotion you’d been holding back.

Steve froze, clearly surprised by your actions. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. He kissed you with equal passion and emotion, no longer paying attention to your phone recording the moment.

Neither of you noticed when the music cut off, too wrapped up in each other. When the need for air overpowered the desire to keep kissing him, you pulled back to gasp in a few breaths. Steve leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed and breathing erratic.

The two do you spent the next few moments just breathing, trying to come to terms with what just happened. You gasped when his hands moved, one resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. His eyes were still closed when you chanced a glance at him.

“What was the trend?” he breathily whispered the words, still coming down from the high of kissing you.

“Huh?” you mumbled, unable to comprehend the question when he was still touching you like this.

“The TikTok trend? What was it?” his grip on your hip tightened, but his hand framing your face remained gentle.

“Oh, uh, it was- it was kissing your best friend/crush.” You whispered, heart still racing from his proximity. Your nerves had never been greater. Yeah, Nat always tells you that Steve has feelings for you, but what if he was just being polite? Maybe he didn’t know how to reject you when you kissed him out of nowhere, and now he’s trying to find a way to turn you down gently. What if-

“Was my reaction good enough to post?” he broke your train of thought with another question. You took a minute to think about the question, your brain still moving like molasses

“Um, that depends…” you froze when his eyes opened and stared into yours.

“On?” he prompted you to continue.

“Which caption I can use.” you finished the thought, finally remembering the two most common outcomes of the trend.

“What are the choices?” Steve smirked when you looked flustered, clearly not expecting this conversation.

“Uh, the two-” he began rubbing small circles into your hip with his thumb, effectively cutting off your train of thought again. It wasn’t until he lightly squeezed your hip again that you remember you were answering his question.

“Right! The two most common captions are some variation of ‘this was so awkward’ or ‘we’re dating now’,” you managed to blurt out the choices, blushing when he smiled at you.

“Well, I know which I prefer…” you waited with bated breath as he prolonged the silence, enjoying seeing you so on edge. You nearly whined when he let you go, moving to pick up your phone from the weight rack.

You watched in silence as he typed out a caption, tapping each letter with his pointer finger. A small smile formed on your lips at his adorable old man behavior. He then managed to find the post button, adding the video to your account before handing you the phone to see what he chose.

Your smile only grew after you read the caption, dropping the phone and immediately kissing him again.

Meanwhile, Nat had gathered the rest of the team that happened to be around to wait for whatever video you had planned to be posted.

Tony, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Peter, and Clint all watched as the new video popped up on the screen. Peter bounced with excitement when he heard the song, instantly recognizing the trend. The rest of the group watched as you kissed Steve, mouths gaping open when he actually kissed you back.

Fans were already commenting about how long it took for the two of you to get together, but the team was too focused on laughing at the caption to pay any mind to the comments.

She said the trend was kind of old, but that fits because I’ve got a habit of waiting too long anyways.

Permanent taglist: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @sebastnstn @jswessie187 @ellobruv

Marvel: @leyannrae @livstilinski @oceaniamaddness @justreadingficsdontmindme

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x y/n #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers one shot #Steve Rogers fic

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underoos-shield · 2 years

Note

hi love!! Angst prompt with Peter ❛❛ I just want to see you smile again. ❜❜ where after everything that’s happened Peter has become cold and emotionless, and reader tries everything to make him happy but one day he snaps at reader and realises what he’s done??

he’s lost so much at his age. usually kids have decades with their parents to make memories that will last a lifetime. but not peter. everyone has been taken away from him. his parents, ben, tony, may, ned, mj… everyone he loved and cared about, gone. all he could feel was grief.

he would go to peter pan’s donut shop just to sit and watch as his friends lived their day to day lives without him. he always ordered a small coffee and would linger in the shop until his drink was too cold to enjoy. peter thought it would make him feel better to at least see his friends, or maybe talk to mj for a few moments while he ordered. but she caught on to his daily routine and started having his small coffee ready for him before he could have the chance to talk to her, cutting out the need for conversation. then he’d walk home with his head hanging low and his heart tearing to pieces all over again. as much as peter loved seeing his friends, he still felt empty in their presence. and it became too much to bear, so he stopped going.

the loss was affecting every aspect of his life, especially school. his locker had been assigned to someone else. another student sat in his usual seat, making him resort to one at the back of the class. even flash stopped bothering him. perhaps there was a plus side to this curse. he sat alone at the lunch table, if he even made it to lunch. he’d usually find an empty classroom and wait until the period ended before heading to his next class.

he broke down one day. a teacher heard him sobbing as she walked by the empty room he was finding refuge in. peter didn’t bother to try and suppress his emotions, not even when he had been caught. he was grateful that he was sent to the guidance counselor, where he cried until he couldn’t anymore. the school offered to call someone for him, which made him feel like a kid again, waiting for his aunt to pick him when he felt sick. out of habit he started reciting may’s number, but gave up halfway through. peter wiped his eyes and thanked the counselor for the much needed therapy before walking out. he dropped out that day.

if peter was honest he didn’t have a plan. he was an orphan now, and had lost access to may’s apartment after she died. he had no money, but luckily section 8 was covering the rent for his new place and gave him food stamps. he had no desire to go to MIT anymore. he didn’t want to bump into ned and mj at school and pretend it was the first time they were meeting. he couldn’t act as if they didn’t have years of memories together. he didn’t even patrol anymore. his other life was the reason he lost everything in the first place.

as the weeks went by he couldn’t feel anything anymore. no heartache, no grief, no pain. how could he be sad that he lost his loved ones when they never knew he existed?

through it all he almost forgot that he had a girlfriend. one that was still around, still remembered him and loved him. but she wasn’t enough, no matter how much peter wanted her to be. when they weren’t together she would call and text throughout the day to check on him, but peter could never bring himself to respond. she lost track of how many times her messages went unanswered. on the days she didn’t work she would stay with peter and help as much as she could. his apartment could never stay clean, despite his lack of energy to get out of bed most days, so she would tidy the place up and cook for him often. peter didn’t ask her to clean up his mess for him, but she didn’t mind. she knew he needed the help. it was a routine for her now; come over, clean, cook and lay with him until it was time to retreat back to her place. peter felt selfish that he was so useless his girlfriend had to take care of him. he was grateful, nonetheless. he appreciated her efforts to cheer him up, but nothing could make up for what he had lost. y/n allowed peter some time to feel his losses, but she was determined to get him back on his feet.

she successfully got him out of the small apartment and into the real world. he was hit with a cold gust of wind and it woke him up. he felt like he had been sleeping, functioning on autopilot for the last…he wasn’t sure how long. she didn’t want to push him too hard so they just walked around the block a few times. christmas was coming in two weeks. decorations were displayed on every window and peter took his time looking at every one of them. for a moment everything felt normal. it was nice to go outside. with her small victory y/n decided to push a bit more, getting peter to start cooking and cleaning for himself again. it’s the small things that matter.

peter started saying “i love you” again. he never lost his feelings for her, he was just too clouded in his own despair to feel anything else.

today was a particularly hard day for him. it was a few days before christmas and he had no family to spend in with. he had her of course, but without may the holiday felt pointless.

“let’s go see the tree tonight”, she offers. it was one of peter’s favorite parts about the holiday season. the whole idea was kind of ridiculous- freezing his ass off to look at a tree… there was something charming about it, though.

peter shakes his head. “i don’t know. i’m not really feeling up to it right now”, he admits. like every day for the last few weeks all he wanted to do was lay in bed.

y/n sits up on the bed and faces him, “oh come on, you love going to see the tree! we can even get hot chocolate on the way to keep us warm”. she knows it will be good for him get out of the apartment again, especially to see the tree she knows he loves so much.

peter glances at her. “i said i don’t want to”, he deadpans. y/n reaches for his hand, but peter twists it out of her hold. he just wanted to be left alone.

“peter”, her voice is soft, she’s hurt. he ignores her, getting up and walking aimlessly into his small kitchen. y/n is slow to get up, but she follows him. “did i do something?”, she asks hesitantly. peter sucks his teeth and curses under his breath.

“can you just get away from me?”. his blood is boiling and he doesn’t have enough self control to realize he’s being irrational. she stops in her tracks, not wanting to upset him further by getting too close.

“whatever i did, i’m sorry”. her voice is quiet, she’s almost afraid of him. “we don’t have to go. i offered because i just want to see you smile again”, she sighs defeatedly. y/n knew it would take some time for him to adjust to his new life, but she didn’t realize just how empty he had been feeling despite her efforts to help.

peter lets out a laugh, the first one he’s had in a long time. it’s a ridiculous request. “what the fuck do i have to smile about?”. she flinches at his harsh tone. peter has never cursed directly at her before. if they ever got into an argument he would always cautious to treat her with respect, no matter the circumstance.

“please don’t raise your voice at me”. her bottom lip wobbles. “i want you to be okay”, she whispers.

peter furrows his brows. “be okay? how can i possibly be okay?”. the boy is yelling now, with no regard for how loud he’s being. y/n can’t help but fear what the neighbors might think. “can’t you see how shitty my life is?!”. the veins along his arms protrude as he squeezes his fists. peter isn't much of a screamer, voice already strained.

she cries. “i’m just trying to help”. everything she had done for him was out of love. he needs someone to show him he hasn't been forgotten. peter's just too stubborn to realize it.

“what could you possibly help me with? bringing back my dead parents? how about tony? may?”. peter doesn’t let up, even as y/n begins to beg for him to lower his voice. “why don’t you tell my best friends that i had a wizard cast a magical spell to make everyone forget about me!?”. she cowers back. she couldn’t believe what was happening.

surely peter was going to come to his senses. he didn’t really mean to take this out on her, right?

peter takes a deep breath and runs his hand over his face. for a few moments it’s quiet. peter’s chest rises and falls quickly from his adrenaline. he fills a glass with water and gulps down most of it to soothe the burning sensation in his throat. y/n is relieved peter had stopped yelling. she didn’t know how much more she could take.

“you know what? why don’t you do me a favor…”, peter starts. it gives her chills at how calm he is compared to a few moments ago. he sets the glass on the counter before speaking again. “get the hell out and forget about me. just like everyone else”. his tone is cold and it pierces through her harder than his previous one.

y/n can’t begin to fathom what peter is thinking. her only intention is to make peter feel whole again. she knows it won’t be an easy journey, but it’s one she is willing to take with him. y/n knows peter has tried his best to move on with his life and she’s proud of him for being so strong. she’ll wait forever if that’s how long it takes. and although it breaks her heart to hear peter’s demand, she doesn’t fight him. if he needs to push her away in order to find himself then she’ll let him. she can’t blame him. there’s no right way to heal.

“if that’s what you want”, she whispers. tears slip past her cheeks as she silently starts to collect her belongings. if he wants her to truly feel like he doesn’t exist she needs to make sure there isn’t a trace of her left behind.

peter grips the edge of the counter. it was so odd to suddenly feel so angry after weeks of feeling nothing. he should feel guilt and shame, but all he feels is rage. he doesn’t stop her when she puts her coat on and even averts his gaze as she walks by him. y/n bites the inside of her cheek to suppress a sob as turns the bronze handle. she steps out into the hallway, resisting the urge to look at him one last time. she wants to say she loves him, but even that is too painful.

before she can fully close the door, peter grips the half empty glass of water and throws it against the wall. the force shatters the glass into thousands of microscopic pieces. her instincts almost make her run back into the apartment, but she stands in the hallway. frozen. unable to do anything except replay his verbal assault in her head.

she doesn’t know what this means for them. y/n has hope that he still loves her and that he was just saying things out of anger, not genuinely meaning his request to forget about him. still, she didn’t deserve it. she understands he’s in pain, but it will take a lot of apologizing for her to forgive him. she won’t be able to for a while. peter isn’t okay and she has to distance herself from his destructive behavior. so that’s what she does.

peter can’t even bring himself to cry. he doesn’t have the energy to scream or break everything in sight, no matter how much his brain is begging for him to. he wants to feel something, anything…but he can’t. peter didn’t mean a word he said to her. she was the only person he had left and he had blamed her for all of the shitty things that had happened in his life. it wasn’t fair. but he needs to figure things out so he can be a better person. he needs to feel. peter sinks down against the door, letting the weight of his actions sink in. now he had truly lost everyone.

he was alone.

********

make a request to join the sleepover!

#peter parker angst #underoos shield #sleepover #nwh spoilers #spiderman spoilers #no way home spoilers #peter parker #peter parker blurb #underoosshield #blurb #request

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softnow · 3 years

Text

bread

msr | s? | gen | words: 600ish

i keep a notebook for writing practice and use a different word every day as a prompt. oct 4th’s word was “bread.” posted at the behest of @o6666666.

— — —

Her foyer smells like his platonic ideal of an autumnal childhood when he unlocks the door with his so-recently cut key. Warm, yes, and sweet, like a candle burning somewhere, one of the orange ones she bought at the farmer’s market last weekend as he trailed behind her, holding her canvas shopping bag of apples and dates, marveling.

There’s a crispness, too, in the temperature, but also in the smell. She must have a window open, though he can’t imagine why. It’s not quite sixty outside today, but the edge in the air is comforting despite itself, evoking dew-damp pickup games on the grade school playground, scratchy wool cardigans soaking up the scent of fog and sweat.

The image is so visceral he nearly forgets where he is, a near-forty-year-old man in his girlfriend’s apartment, a bottle of red in his hands and mud on his shoes.

He toes off the shoes and lines them up beside hers on the mat, and the sight of her dainty leather boots next to his old clodhoppers squeezes his heart.

He considers calling out to her to announce himself, then decides against it as the prospect of sneaking up being her, catching her unaware, and sinking his nose into the sweet curve of her neck where she dabs her expensive perfume, presents itself to him, and he moves lightly on stocking feet deeper into the apartment, chasing the nearness of her and that bittersweet nostalgic smell.

There’s something else to it now, tickling the inside of his nose, something that summons a harvest bonfire, piles of red and yellow leaves and the dry sticks they fell from providing the embers over which to heat flagons of cider and sticky, puffed marshmallows. Does she have a fire going in the hearth? Just the candles? But neither option feels quite right, the acridness more elemental, more wild.

And then he is greeted with the final piece of the puzzle, so nearly lost under everything else, a Thanksgiving yeastiness, the close, warm smell of the insides of tea towel-covered bowls, the smell of white dusted handprints on an apron, the smell rarest of all in his boyhood memories.

He rounds the kitchen at last, and there she is, not in an apron but in flour-covered sweatpants and an academy t-shirt, two orange pumpkin candles ablaze on the stove, a window open, a 9 volt battery on the sill, clearly recently plucked from the smoke detector dangling corpse-like from the ceiling, and there, flanked on either side by oven mitts, a blackened lump in a loaf pan.

She turns before he can surprise her, before he can make it to the sugared crevice between her ear and shoulder, and she is flushed and chagrined and beautiful.

“Martha Stewart makes it look easier,” she says.

“Ah,” he says, reeling her in by the waist, noting the flour in her hair like streaks of grey, and he sees her in thirty years, just as radiant, just as inept in the kitchen, and his stomach does a yo-yo at the prospect—the very likely prospect, or at least, more likely than he ever could have believed—of being there to see it. “But Martha Stewart never looked so good covered in baking powder.”

And he kisses her, and she tastes as sweet as a brown sugar donut, as new as October’s first sunrise, as familiar as the New England chill. She tastes like fall. Like falling, every day, still.

#txf #scully #mulder #msr #myfic #txf fic #not a revival just a gift #i don’t remember the layout to scully’s apartment so sue me #i also barely edited this as it was supposed to just exist in my notebook so :o) take it for what it is

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kurosstuff · 3 years

Text

Fluffy Donna! Was requested hehe- also hope it was good? I literally hate this. Haha. Wtf. Also cut it short so I could get it out for you guy- got a bit stressed over this work? So.. take my attempt at soft fluff

Warning(s): angie swears again*once* cause she can and I say so. SLIGHT sexual innuendo(but its not? Someone I had read it over and said it was so-)its Angie. Other then that tooth rotting fluff

Donna Beneviento x reader: Tea time

Waking up beside the doll maker was a blessing as it was a curse. The unveiled lover curled into your side, breath slower than usual indicating she's still asleep, the arm around her moved slightly causing the women to mumble into you, clutching your shirt. In a silent yet loud way of saying "don't leave", smiling sleepily you used your other hand to brush her bangs away-Donna in turn leaned into your hand smiling, melting into your touch even while she slept.

A harsh wack from the head yanked you from the pleasant sight-looking up. Rolling your eyes jokingly at the sight. The cursed side was the rabid doll that yet again kicked your head above you, Angie laid sprawled out like a cat above you both. Mostly cured around Donna's pillow she kicked her legs yet again in her sleep. A scratchy sleep giggle escaped the doll

"Seems shes having a good dream" drawing your attention to the women in your arms, smiling up at you. Cuddling deeper into the crook of your neck. "I wish we could stay like this for the rest of the day" chuckling as you brought a hand to her messy hair- freed from her hair tie, let loose into wild knots and tangles from the tossing and turning of her sleeping- a content sigh escaped her from the head scratches you gave

"Yes. I wish that as well" you started with a hum as you pretending to think "but." Your hand froze on her head thinking aloud, her eye glanced up curiously "what would Lady Dimitrescu say? After all isn't today the date of the tea party?" At that Donna faster then usual shot up from the bed, almost falling out from the realization

Two minutes later you both were dressed-after the relentless teasing on your end, you decided to play it safe for now and leave your beloved alone for the moment. "You know love, this is my favorite time of the day, waking up in your.. arms" she spoke blushing from the attempted compliment. Nevermind your earlier self agreement teasing seemed.. to work in your favor sometimes

"Oh? I have to agree" you spoke placing the comforter 'perfectly' on the bed, turning to face her "mine is when the sun bleeds into the room, engulfing you in its light" slowly walking towards her you wrapped your arms around her waist slowly swaying "the light of my day"

"That I have to disagree with" Donna spoke leaning back in your arms smiling "you are the light of my day." Bringing a thing ling finger down the side of your haw tilting it to her face smiling. Grasping your jaw in her firm steady hand the cool radiating off it "my love, you bring so much happiness in my life-"

"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT- TELL ME TO GET OUT BEFORE YOU DO ALL THIS" a loud shirlly voice gagged at the sight of you guys flirting "MY GOD WHAT A NIGHTMARE" running out of the room, you both laughed at her reaction separating from one another

After getting ready for the day, Donna reached for your hand giving it a gentle squeeze before you both walked out hand in hand. "So what do you think she has planned?"

"Not sure.. she may try to get the rest of the cake from last night" Donna spoke-glancing over towards you with a shrug, drawing a gentle laugh from you "or she could try getting you to eat plywood again" a almost smug smile appeared on Donna's face at the comment

"Oh come on love, that was one time" you grimaced at the memory, one of the first nights living in the manor and somehow Angie convinced you that this 'cookie' she made was a gift from the lady of the house. What a fool you were-you should have guessed but- with it being so late you chalked it up for a stupid sleepy moment.

You can still imagine her cackles after you ate it- the only good thing out of it was that being the first time hearing Donna's voice. Even though it was just her saying "oh my" that voice, the calm deep voice made you happy for make fool of yourself.

Even eating plywood

You still aren't sure how you didn't break any teeth from it either-

"-/N? Hey love are you ok?" Snapping back into the present you looked beside you, Donna looked concerned like something was wrong, worry written in her face but most of all-the nervousness in her eye showed how concerned she really was, other then the indicator of her twitching hand-a way for her to show her emotions through her hands, a habit she picked up before she felt comfortable to not wear her veil "what's on your mind?"

"You" the automatic response made you both freeze, before giving your hand a squeeze she looked away with a slight blush-caught off guard with such a bold move.

Entering the kitchen, Angie was running about yelling- pans and water flinging everywhere with a bang. "Angie calm down we're here" you tried blaming her but, that seemed to just wild her up even more proceeding with her jumping onto the kitchen counter, knowing what she was going to do you ran over to her only to catch her in time

"Ok no sweets for you today missy" you gently scolded the Rowdy doll who grumbled in your arms, placing her down Angie ran to the table sitting holding the fork and knife(plastic, you learned your last mistake, no more starwars for her that's for sure) smiling at the childlike doll you jokingly rolled your eyes.

Placing the plate of glazed donuts onto the table Angie quickly snatched two cutting into it viciously then proceeded to mimick eatting it, siting down beside Donna who grabbed your hand gently rubbing the back of it with her thumb, "eat slower dear. We have a tea party scheduled today remember?" Donna spoke quietly in an attempt to remind the doll-who froze

"...did you guys think it was today?" Angie stated uncharacteristically calm before laughing loudly "TODAY? HAHA THE TALL GIRLY WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU BOTH IF THAT WAS THE CAS-" She laughed before choking the fork in her mouth going too deep, coughing it up it flew hitting the ground with a thump. "Ow."

"Oh Angie" you said kneeling down to the child doll, bringing the napkin to her face to dab it gently, from the look she gave-if she could she would have rolled her eyes at you. "Please eat slower or you'll choke"

"Choke?" Angie said before giggling, the same one everyone knew. Not anything good "kinda like how Donna choked on-"

"ANGIE" Donna yelled strained, face flushed. A loud cackling was heard before the quiet pitter patter of footsteps rushed off "I swear she will be the death of me" shaking her head she looked away to watch her as she ran

"She is a riot that's for sure" standing up you picked the dishes stacking them on one another, going over to the sink you gently placed them in as you started to wash them.

Coming up from behind you Donna wrapped her arms around your waist, "Let me help love" she whispered in your ear making you shiver in response. Chuckling softly she pulled away grabbing a plate, washing it beside you. Glancing to the women beside you, a smile came across your face.

The quiet nature combined with the.. rowdy if you'd call it nature of Angie it made life interesting to say the least. Glancing to your lover to the doll who helped you both seal the deal. It made it worth it, You'd never give this life up for anything.

#can you tell the begining is just me sleep writing or no?#god this sucks actually #i need new headers #also no donna didnt choke on anything bad you pervs #Also i hope the fluff was at least decent??? idk #angie got grounded... again #in the same week #flirty donna is best donna really haga #haha #fucking hell #BOLD DONNA? YEAH #donna beneviento x reader #donna x reader #angie needs to cut the donuts or she will attempt and has attempted to shove the whole thing- in her mouth.#she choked

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yuzukult · 3 years

Note

Oh my gold! I really love your series From Home. This is actually one of my fav and I tend to reread it a lot. Thank you for sharing this wonderful masterpiece! And also, can I ask for a drabble from "From Home" where Jungkook will finally ask her to marry him- Thank you! 💖

— a from home drabble 03 title: donut rings word count: 1,322 prompt: when jungkook proposes. warnings: none! pg clean baby. some bad words tho. a/n: as requested!! i... sat on this for a while!! sorry. i got distracted and somehow it got lost in the depths of my other docs. :D hopefully this is good enough for you guys !! :D

“You’re doing it all wrong,” you snap, snatching the dough from Jungkook’s hand while rolling your eyes. “With those muscles, I thought you’d be better at kneading it harder.”

Jungkook smiles, a hearty laugh escaping from his chest as he shakes his head at your reaction. You’re still impatient, oftentimes shoving him out of the kitchen when he attempts to put effort in lending a hand, but you’re strict about him entering your “zone.” He’s doing his best though; he’s learned to make pasta (using the uncooked pasta from boxes in supermarket aisles and not freshly made dough that you prefer), and even cook rice in the rice cooker.

But spontaneously, he thought that teaching himself (or well, watching the Food Network show him) how to make homemade donuts from scratch would impress you. After all, just because you got the girl doesn’t mean you suddenly stop trying.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home until later,” he grins widely, cheeks and forehead smeared with flour, not to mention the dust that sprinkles across his apron and even onto his t-shirt underneath. “I wanted to surprise you.”

You scoff. “Surprise me with a messy kitchen?” Clicking your tongue, you nudge him to the side with your hip. “Sounds more like you’re asking me to get all pissy.”

Jungkook walks over from behind, snaking his arms around your frame while nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I wanted to do something for you since you’ve been so swamped at work lately. Wouldn’t it be nice if you came home to your hot shot boyfriend making donuts?”

Sighing, you roll out the dough to be half an inch thick before reaching over for your donut cutter. “No. Especially when he’s doing it wrong. What’s the point of doing this if you’re just gonna fuck it up?”

Sometimes, your words can come off harsh. But Jungkook knows the love behind it, because there’s a lot of it and your actions are there to show it. The upgraded apartment the two of you share, to the furniture you bought together, and to those date nights that occur at least once a week, something you and him had collectively put a plentiful amount of into, Jungkook can confirm your love is real.

“Baby,” he calls you out warmly with that infatuated look on his face. “There’s obviously a learning curve. Gimme some time, will you?”

What really softens you is the way he still kisses your shoulder lovingly, disregarding your sharp tone because he can differentiate when you’re actually mad and when you’re just nagging. It slowly tugs a slight smile upon your lips, and the way the corner twitches signals Jungkook that he’s broken the barrier.

“How about we fry them together? That way you can see if I’m doing it wrong and correct me.”

“Fine.”

It’s a repeated and revisited lesson that Jungkook learns—home is not always physically a place, but sometimes and more often than not, is found in a person. A physical home is just a shelter, someplace where home is located.

And it’s you. You’re home.

He thinks about times he’s studied abroad, lived in Busan, at the estate, his old apartment and now here, how he’s lived in so many places but none of them felt like… this. This is what home is, and Jungkook would be an idiot to not tie it down while he can.

“Mingyu is engaged,” Jungkook casually mentions the name of a coworker he’s been spending a lot of time with lately while cautiously observing your reaction to the news. You don’t budge. “He’s been… waiting to propose for her for a while, and although she never stated the time, he figured he would guess and he did well… obviously.”

“Mmm,” you hum, unamused and not entirely listening. “Congrats to him.”

“Which brings the question—“

“When are we getting engaged?”

Jungkook freezes when you lift your head up to lock with his eyes, stunned at the boldness of your question. He was going to ease his way into the topic, but you’re faster than him.

Silent, he isn’t quite sure what to say. You’ve left him speechless, buffering like a YouTube video that refuses to load.

“Well?”

“I—“ he’s stuttering over his own words. “Well, yeah, I sorta wanted to know that.”

By now, there are a couple of donuts that have been fried and cooled, resting on top of a rack on the counter, and they’re starting to look tempting for reasons other than for eating. “Well, would you like to get married?”

He gives you that ‘you-know-the-answer’ look, but the expression you counter back with has him caving into defeat to give a straightforward answer. “Of course I want to marry you. You know I have—it’s never not crossed my mind. But I know how you are. You’re in no rush to do any of that, and that’s totally fine, I can wait—”

“Okay, let’s get married.”

Choking on his own saliva, it takes him a couple minutes to regain his breathing back to normal, but you continue to stand there, blinking blankly with metal tongs in hand as the donuts fry in a pool of oil in the pan. It’s a blunt way to execute a deeply important question like that, but coming from you, there doesn’t seem to be any stress or burden that carries with it that it normally does when people prepare to ask.

“What?”

“You want to get married. Let’s get married.”

“But you don’t want to get married.”

Grabbing a donut off the metal rack, you peek through the hole in the middle to glance at your awfully confused boyfriend, standing there in complete confusion at your unpredictable actions.

“Jeon Jungkook, you may think I don’t want to get married, and you’re sort of right. I don’t,” his shoulders drop at this revelation, admittingly disappointed by your confession, but you’re not done just yet. “But… I met you, and frankly, I still didn’t want to get married. When we started dating, I can’t exactly say that I felt like I was ready to get married, or the thought ever crossed my mind but… especially lately, I… I don’t know. It’s not like we have to get married but I like the idea of that for us.”

“So…” He chews on his bottom lip anxiously. “Does this mean…”

“Whenever you’re ready to get married, I’m ready.”

Face bright, Jungkook straightens himself in excitement. “Well, if you say it like that, it makes me wanna get married now.” Eyes skimming the room, nothing quite catches his eyes until he spots the donuts sitting on the rack. “How about…” Grabbing one, he peeks at you through the hole this time, taking your hand in his.

“My finger isn’t that big.”

“We can get the jewelers to readjust the size.”

A mischievous smile on his face, he can’t help but still push the donut onto your ring finger and hold it up into the light. “So, does this mean we can for real for real get married? I can call that jewelry store and set up an appointment. This… this is nice but… I wanna get you something better.”

Examining the donut that splits your fingers far apart in size, you can’t help but let out a laugh. “I guess that would be more appropriate and sustainable than a donut on my finger.”

“Well, you still look pretty nonetheless,” he says cheekily, holding your hand against his chest, just above his heart. “But you’re right. A donut would start molding.”

“Not to mention fall apart. It’s already crumbling because we’re moving so much.”

“Mm. Least our love isn’t crumbling.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Jungkook.”

With a kiss pressed to your palm, he smiles warmly into it. “I love you.”

And with a swollen, threatening to burst heart, Jungkook’s favorite phrase spills from your lips.

“Love you too.”

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #gyukultfics

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fonulyn · 3 years

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Hello <33

I read some of your fics and loved them ❤

If it's not bothersome I'd like to ask for a prompt, but if you can't I'll understand perfectly ☺

It's about one of my headcanons between Chris and Leon, that while Chris prefers to listen to calm or acoustic music, sometimes a rock ballad, jazz and even classical music, Leon is totally the opposite and is a complete metalhead who loves deathmetal and even metalcore 😅 (by the way, he can sing with a guttural voice and Chris doesn't understand how he can sound so inhuman haha)

I was thinking about this promt since I listened "To the hellfire" by Lorna Shore (the last breakdown is so good 💗)

Once again, I love your stories 💕💕

hi there! thank you so much, i'm so glad to hear you've enjoyed the ficcage :D 💖 ah and I like the thought that Chris listens to calmer music while Leon's into metal (I am 100% projecting my own taste in music onto Leon haha :'D). I do feel they'd both listen to quite a wide range tho. also i never heard that song before, listened to it now and it's pretty cool! i admit i like my metal with cleaner vocals tbh but the melodies and the chorus are solid!

but anyhow!! here have a tiny little thing, also featuring Claire and Jill :3 (a shoutout to my brother who picked all the music for the ficlet lol)

Humming a little to himself Leon leaned against the car door, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the wind on his face. It was a bright, sunny day, so hot that his thin shirt was practically glued to his skin. He wasn't the only one, not by any stretch, with four people crammed into Chris's Ford Escort that he staunchly refused to trade in for anything newer. Claire always called the car Chris' girlfriend, but Chris just shrugged it off and didn't even argue.

Not that Leon minded. He and Chris might not have been dating for more than a few months but he knew better than to feel threatened by a car, at least. Although the next time they were heading out for a road trip, he was going to suggest that they rent something with properly functioning AC and more leg room for the passengers.

Despite Chris' protests, Leon had propped his feet up on the dashboard, slouched low in his seat as he idly watched the scenery go by. Claire was sitting behind Chris, kicking his seat every time she disagreed with something he said, and their familiar bickering felt... safe. Felt normal. And this was exactly what Leon needed as his life was otherwise way too full of the undead, decidedly not normal things.

At the moment Chris and Claire were singing along to Uriah Heep's Lady in Black, and even Jill was humming a little in the backseat behind Leon. It was all so very peaceful, driving here in the middle of absolutely nowhere, watching the sun slowly start to set. They'd been on the road for hours, ever since they stopped to have lunch at a roadside diner, and another stop was definitely going to happen soon. Especially with the way Chris was starting to look a little sleepy, as he'd been driving too long.

Leon let himself be lulled half asleep by the soft notes of Miles Davis' C.T.A, only barely registering what songs were playing while he dozed. When the last notes of Pan Am Highway Blues faded into nothingness, Chris finally pulled over at a gas station that had huge signs bragging about their excellent burgers.

The burgers were excellent, admittedly, and after they'd eaten, had their bathroom breaks, and stretched their legs a little - and, sure, maybe Chris and Leon stole a few precious minutes of lazily making out while Claire and Jill were purchasing a mountain of snacks - they piled right back into the car. As late as it was, they'd agreed they'd drive through the night to get to spend more time at their actual destination.

It was chillier as the sun had gone down and Leon pulled on a hoodie, even if he chose to keep his shorts as he didn't feel like changing. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat, Chris already preemptively wrinkled his nose. "You're not going to force any more Napalm Death on me, are you?"

"Oh, don't worry," Leon hummed happily, tilting his head to see if the girls had already buckled in. Claire had an entire donut stuffed into her mouth, but she seemed to be in high spirits as she attempted a grin, anyway.

Leon turned back to Chris, even leaned in to plant a quick kiss in the corner of his mouth, before turning back towards the steering wheel and starting the car. "I've got this brand new CD and I've been dying to give it a listen..." He slipped the CD out of its case and inserted it into the player, giving Chris a sweet smile. "The album is called Exit."

"And the band is called?" Chris asked. It was clear in his expression that he was getting more than a little suspicious with the way Leon refused to show him the case. "C'mon, Leon, it's bet--"

He was cut short as someone screamed so loud it drowned out all of the sound in the car. The volume had been pumped up pretty high for Chris' smooth jazz and soft rock, so graciously Leon took it down a couple of notches. The screaming continued, the drums and ... Chris couldn't even tell apart any of the other instruments, it was all just noise to him.

Leon blinked innocently. "Rotten Sound," he answered. "The song is called Western Cancer." Then he peeled out of the parking lot, screaming at the top of his lungs along to the music.

Helpless, Chris turned to look at the backseat. The uneaten half of Claire's donut had fallen on her chest and she stared right back, utterly disbelieving. "This is worse than Death," she muttered, raising her voice over the music in hopes that Leon would hear her. "Can we please go back to Buddy Guy? ZZ Top? Even Death, c'mon!"

There was no reaction, so Chris glanced at Jill. "Help us out here."

"No," Jill answered. Nonchalantly she pushed her sunglasses up her nose, even though the sun had already gone down and there was absolutely no need for them. "Finally we get some good fucking music. Deal with it, losers."

Not even looking back, Leon reached out his hand for a high five. Jill didn't waste a second before giving him one.

With a groan, the Redfield siblings admitted defeat.

#chreon #chris redfield #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #little appearances also from #claire redfield #jill valentine #it's a ROADTRIP BABY! :'D #my fics #my chreon fics

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