#can’t be confused with that one time peter became the punisher so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calpalirwin · 3 years

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Dinner Games

Summary: During dinner with the Avengers, you and Bucky find a way to keep things interesting

Word Count: 1.5k

Content: use of sex toys, edging, female orgasm, sex in public places

And away, and away we go!

“No,” you heard Bucky say. “No. Absolutely not.”

You turned in confusion, expecting to find him on the phone, but instead he was staring at you with his arms crossed. “Something wrong?” you asked slowly.

“Yeah. We’re going to be late because you have to change.”

“Why do I have to change? What’s wrong with how I’m dressed now?”

His eyes roamed your body, stopping at the hem of your skirt, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Look, doll. We have two options here. We can be a little late because you’re going to change. Or, we don’t go to dinner at all.”

“Oh?” you said, cocking an eyebrow and walking over to him. “So you’re saying you can’t control yourself, is that it?” Your voice dropped to a sultry taunt as you ran your fingertips up the front of his shirt.

“It’s not that I can’t, doll. It’s that I don’t want to.”

“Care to make this interesting, then?” you asked, an idea coming to you.

“What do you have in mind?”

~~~

You were stopped at a red light about a block from the restaurant when a small buzz went through your core. “Bucky!” you hissed, shifting one leg over the other. “This isn’t playing fair. You’re supposed to wait until we get there.”

The corner of his mouth was pulled into a smirk, and he let out a chuckle, as the buzzing stopped. “Had to make sure the remote worked. And that it’s not loud,” he explained with faux innocence.

“You’re a menace,” you retorted, uncrossing your legs.

“This was your idea,” he reminded you. “And I’d work on your poker face.”

~~~

You almost thought Bucky had forgotten about your little toy as he lost himself in conversation with Sam and Steve at dinner, and taking cheap shots at Peter and Tony. And you yourself almost forgot as you focused your attention on your own conversations with other members of the team, growing unaware of the restless circles you were drawing on Bucky’s thigh.

You’d made it through appetizers before a vibration pulsed, causing you to gasp as you took a drink, your hand tightening on Bucky. “You good, Y/N?” Steve asked, his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Yep, all good,” you forced a smile, before shooting a look at Bucky. “Seriously?!” you hissed at him, barely moving your lips as the vibrations continued. “Not when I’m trying to drink something. Not cool.”

“You’re the one who started it,” he whispered back, looking down at his lap.

Your eyes followed his, noting the small death grip you had on his cock. “Oops?” you offered up innocently, shrugging your shoulders and moving your hand off to rest more squarely on his thigh, genuinely unaware your hand had traveled up that far.

“Yeah, oops,” Bucky replied mockingly, and the vibrations got kicked up a notch.

“I didn’t know!” you said, loudly, fingers gripping into his thigh. “That story. I didn’t know that story,” you quickly tried to recover. “That’s um… that’s a new one.”

There were stifled coughs, raised eyebrows, and shrugs at your outburst before conversations resumed naturally, and the vibrations went back to a slow, steady beat. “Poker face,” Bucky taunted.

It was sheer stubbornness that kept your face neutral and your body relaxed, despite each pulse of the vibrator making you grow wetter. But as your high crept closer, you felt your face begin to warm as you tried to keep control. “B-Bucky,” you breathed, trying to get his attention, fingernails digging into his thigh as you reached for your water glass, hoping the cold water would soothe you.

He turned his head to press a kiss to your cheek, using the chance to coo “Gonna cum? Right here at dinner in front of all our friends?” in your ear.

You could have slapped the sadistic smirk off his face as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as your moan rumbled low in your throat.

“Naughty girl,” he tsked, masking his words to you with another kiss.

The vibrations came to a complete stop, and the breath you’d been holding came out in an angry huff. He could at least have the decency of letting you finish. You busied yourself with draining your water glass, shooting daggers at your boyfriend all the while.

“More water, miss?” a waiter asked as main dishes were passed around.

“Yes, please,” you nodded, and drinking half of the refill in one gulp.

You thought that Bucky had had his fun, watching you squirm and try to keep composure. You thought you’d make it through the rest of dinner, the exhilaration enough to tide you both over until you were home. But it was clear Bucky wasn’t quite finished with his game, as you felt his hand slide up your skirt, a finger pushing your panties out of his way before sliding through your folds, humming his delight in how soaked his finger became. “Bucky,” you choked out when that same finger started to draw circles on your clit. “Could you pass the salt?”

“Course, doll,” he grinned, handing you the salt shaker.

“Thank you,” you replied, gritting your teeth, his finger slow and torturous against your clit.

The sound of everyone enjoying their food was enough to mask your moan when the slow vibrations started up again. “Good food,” you commented, easing out another moan. “Wish there was more.”

Bucky took the hint, the vibrations coming faster, the pulsing stronger, and his finger still drawing the slow and torturous circles on your clit. “Really enjoying your food there, doll?” Bucky teased you.

“Mhm,” you nodded frantically, forcing yourself to take another bite. “So good.”

Stealthily, Bucky switched the vibrator on the highest setting, and it took every ounce of willpower you had to not lose it. Bucky felt the tremor beginning in your legs, and watched as beads of sweat started to roll down your flushed face. Even your neck was covered in a blush as your orgasm built.

As to not draw too much attention, Bucky guided your head to his shoulder, metal fingertips cool against your heated skin. “Cum quietly,” he murmured so only you could hear him. “That’s it, good girl,” he coaxed you through your orgasm, as you squeezed your eyes shut tight in his shoulder, your own fingers death gripping any part of him you could find as you let out a long low whimper. “Very good girl,” he praised, a soft kiss finding its way to your temple, as he removed his hand from your clit, smoothing your skirt back into place. Then, loudly he went “Doll, you feeling okay?”

You shook your head, making your moan sound as pitiful as you could. “Think I ate too fast,” you said, pulling away from his shoulder to look at him.

“Jesus, Y/N, you look like you’re either going to faint,” Steve started.

“Or blow chunks,” Tony finished.

“Oh, sweetie, you should go home and get some rest,” Natasha told you.

“Yeah, honestly Barnes, what were you thinking dragging her out when she’s clearly sick?” Tony scolded Bucky.

“Honestly, it’s probably nothing guys,” you tried to defuse. “The food was so good, I probably just ate too fast. Nothing a little rest won’t fix.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Peter spoke up. “I used to eat so fast I’d get stomach aches all the time. But now? I can eat as fast as I want and nothing happens. Hey, Y/N, maybe I can find that spider and have it bite you, too! Then you won’t get sick when you eat!”

You laughed at the youngest Avengers enthusiasm. “I’ll pass for now, Pete, but thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time I eat my way into a stomach ache. Bucky? Can we go?”

“Yeah, course, doll.”

Quickly you said your goodbyes, before letting Bucky usher you out of the restaurant, both of you letting out a loud laugh once you were safely in the parking lot. “You!” you kept laughing, doubling over and pointing a finger at Bucky. “You’re an asshole!”

“How am I the asshole? This was your idea!” he reminded you, as he helped you into the car.

“You only edge me during punishments and that wasn’t a punishment, Bucky.”

He pulled a face, his fingers drumming against the hood of the car as he thought through the evening. “Oh! Shit, doll, I didn’t realize how close you were the first time. I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide and apologetic as they looked down at you.

“It’s okay,” you told him, smiling up at him. “That was fun. Just wish I could get you back.”

“Oh… believe me. You got me back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So can we go home before I rip through my jeans? I don’t think they can grow much tighter.”

“Or…” you suggested, hooking a finger through his belt loop to tug him closer to you. “We could fuck here in the car.”

“God, I love you, doll,” he growled, leaning down to press a hungry kiss to your lips, one of his hands pulling on the lever of your seat to recline it, the only sound being your giggles and the car door pulling shut as he climbed on top of you.

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter

#dinner games #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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p---ink · 3 years

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What’s On Your Mind?

Author’s Note: Hi :) Remember me? I’ve missed you guys, and Tumblr altogether. I felt absolutely guilty about not writing, but the writer’s block was strong on this one guys. And while I’ve had lots of ideas for stories I couldn't quite put them onto paper...or screen. Anyway, wanted to try something new. So this one is about a Thor! I dedicate this one to you @swaggysposts since I know you love Chris Hemsworth. Its pretty short, but still, tell me what you think, my love!

Summary: Avenger reader has a crush on the god of thunder.

Warnings: some lite language and fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

Part Two Part Three

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right? You said you can what?” Mr. Stark asked, without a doubt forgetting that there were stranger things in the world.

Clearing my voice, and speaking a bit louder I say, “I can read minds, sir.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Stark voiced out loud placing a sleek pair of sunglasses on his face. He was still pretty skeptical of my claims, but another part of him was very anxious. Or would the word be embarrassed? Mortified? Yes that was definitely the perfect description.

Whatever the feeling was, I knew the cause was because he knew that if what I was saying was true, he would have to start groveling because of the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind when we first introduced ourselves.

‘Forgive me for looking Pepper, but this girl has the ass of a professional volleyball player’ was what he thought as he opened the door for me on the way in.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking though, because It only works through touch.” I lie, as I watch his worry fade away. I needed this job, and I couldn’t be disqualified because of harmless thoughts that we could all be guilty of sometimes. Besides it wasn’t Tony’s fault: these jeans did do wonders for my bottom.

Something told me though, that if this Pepper weren’t in the picture, he’d have no problem saying what he thought of me out loud. And he was a handsome man, couldn’t be much older than 40, so maybe in another universe I’d consider him. Not this one though.

“Hey Kid,” Stark started, interrupting my own inappropriate thoughts, “just saying ‘I can read minds’, wont be enough. You’ll have to prove it.”

“Of course! Sorry—” I was cut short by the sound of the thick glass doors of the conference room being slammed against the walls.

A brown haired boy with deep chestnut eyes, that looked as frantic as the rest of his face, rushed out apology after apology as he took his seat next to the older man.

Tony, who hadn’t spared the younger boy a glance, said, “Ah, perfect. Tell me what he’s thinking.”

‘Spiderling’ was the name he had assigned him through thought. As I concentrated on his confused features, he looked from me to Stark.

“What who’s thinking? Is Dad—I mean Mr. Stark, referring to me? How could she possibly do that? Oh God, he hasn’t said a word to me since I got here. He must be really upset because I’m late. Geez, I hope he doesn’t take Karen again. I’d rather he kill me.” I repeated, after relaying all of the boy’s thoughts as fast as he could think them.

“Is she right?” Tony asked the boy. He felt both amazed and amused. Amazed with me, and amused by Spiderling for thinking of him as a dad. He would never let him live that one down.

After swallowing his astonishment, and turning his attention from me, Spiderling answered “Yes.”

“Good. And at least we both agree on your punishment. I’d rather kill you, too. Saves me less trouble in the future.” Tony stated. He was punishing him because apparently this was the third time he’s been late to the interviews he was supposed to be in charge of.

Spiderling let alarm overtake his features, but before he could say anything, Tony continued on with more questions.

“Do you have any other skills, we should know about?”

“Well just a bit of hand to hand combat. But it still needs a lot of work. Other than that no—”

“How did this happen?” Spiderling interrupted, wonder getting the best of him.

“Kid,” Tony starts, but he goes ignored by Spiderling.

“Were you bitten by some kind of radioactive insect like me? Or are you super smart like Mr. Stark? Or perhaps it was gamma radiation like Dr. Banner! Or maybe a super serum like Mr. Rogers!—”

“Don’t make me remove your batteries, junior!” Tony interrupted, then he looked to me. “I’m sorry. He’ll keep going if you don’t nip it in the bud early.”

But he didn’t have to tell me that. His own mind, like Spiderling’s, was racing a mile a minute.

“No its fine really. He’s just curious.” I reply with a chuckle. “And to answer your question Spiderling: maybe I was born with it, or maybe its Maybeline.”

I began to grow embarrassed by their silence at my terrible joke, until Spiderling stifled a chuckle. “I get it!” He said between snickers. “Wait why’d you call me Spiderling?” He asked. ‘Is she picking on me?’ He thought.

Needing to correct his thoughts to clear up any offense I say, “No! I would never pick on you, I just thought that was your name because Mr.—”

“Y/N, was it?” Tony interrupts, yet again. “I think you’d make an excellent addition to our team! When can you start?”

“Really?” I ask gleaming, ignoring the fact that he wanted me to shut for outing what he really thought of his younger protégé. “I can start right away! Thank you so much for this opportunity!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He hurried. “F.R.I.DAY, will prepare your room, and Peter here will show you around.”

At that Peter hopped to his feet mind racing with thoughts of excitement on the hopes of a future friendship. “Follow me!” He said, grabbing my hand.

“Not so fast, champ. I need to speak with Ms. L/N alone for a moment.” Tony stated, nodding at Peter as he excused himself from the room.

Tony cleared his throat, and relayed his thoughts, thoughts that were hard to separate from Peter’s louder ones earlier. “So Y/N,” He started towards me, leaning in close as he chose his words carefully. “I couldn’t help but notice, that you didn’t need to touch Parker nor I to read our thoughts. Care to explain?”

Flustered at being caught I stumble across my words as I try to explain, “Ah yes, well its rare, but sometimes I don’t need to touch the person.”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed, not believing a word I said, and I knew then the gig was up.

Cocking my head, and wearing a semi-sympathetic expression I say, “Don’t worry. I don’t even know who Pepper is.”

And before Stark could protest, I ran to Peter’s side, so we could begin the tour around my new home.

That was all a little over eight months ago. And so much had changed now. Peter’s hopes became true. We were the best of friends. His boy-like charm never grew old to me, and nor did my gifts to him.

“Cerulean” I’d say, when he’d think things like ‘What’s your favorite color?’. He always thought questions like that as a sort of game. I never got tired of playing along.

It seemed to never click in his mind though that he could never scare or surprise me when he hid behind corners or couches, because I could hear his thoughts before he got the chance to.

But besides the little stunts he’d try to pull by hiding his thoughts in order to frighten me, Peter was as transparent as they were. The boy was an open book, and he rarely kept a secret. It made us perfect friends, because he never seemed to get tired of me knowing every single detail about him.

Though the other avengers treated me like family, Peter seemed to be the only one welcoming of my “gift”.

If you asked Steve, he’d think something along the lines of “I’m too old for this shit” when I’d answer questions he hadn’t had the chance to ask. Then he’d immediately curse himself, for thinking a swear word when I’d tease him with one of the team’s inside jokes, like “language.”

Bucky tried his hardest to keep his thoughts in a vault, but it never worked. I knew exactly how many dead bodies he had under his belt, and where he kept his hidden stash of plums.

Natasha, however, never tried to hide her kill count. She always made it a point to up the number by one as a threat to me, every time I accidentally crept inside her head. I always made it a point to keep my distance whenever she was deep in reflection.

Banner was interesting. His mind had two voices of course, and neither one of them gave a shit about whether I heard them or not. There were the deep thoughts that I struggled to understand most of the time, then others were one-word sentences only. They were louder than the rational side of his brain.

“La, la, la, la, la”, was literally all that Sam would think whenever there was something he wanted to hide. Sometimes he’d do it just to piss me off, because he knew if I said to ‘knock it off’, he could accuse me of evading his thoughts in the first place.

In truth, I never tried to read what they were thinking. I found the process invasive, and distracting from my own feelings. I worked hard to shut it all out, doing my best to make truth of that lie I told Stark all those months ago. But it was very draining, and took more energy than my body could exert. One person was easy enough to ignore, but more than ten, proved to be a task.

Most of my entire life I spent working in order to shut out all of the world around me. I avoided crowds whenever I could, blasted my music through my headphones whenever I couldn’t, and made sure to drug my body heavily with painkillers and vitamins whenever the last two weren’t options.

It was so much work just to go out into the world. So much work until I met him.

The son of Odin was the only person whose thoughts I would pay to hear. Coincidentally, he was also the only person who’s thoughts I couldn’t read. I could never hear him, I would only ever feel him. He radiated a rare intensity I had never felt before. His thoughts, or should I say feelings, even managed to drown out all of those around him. I had no choice but to focus on him whenever he was around.

When I was with him, he literally clouded my brain. I didn’t have to work to shut him or the others out. He did it for me.

I usually thought that was refreshing. But in the time I grew to know him, I found it mostly frustrating at times.

You could say I liked him, but that would be putting it lightly.

Liking someone for me, was a rare luxury. My crushes were always narrowed down to celebrities, and other people who didn’t know I existed.

It was a pain to date people whose thoughts about you were always on display.

And if you thought dating was hard as a telepath, try having sex. Imagine being able to hear all of your partner’s most inner thoughts about the faces you make when you cum, or discovering that you have a small birthmark on your ass that you would otherwise know nothing about.

Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest experience.

I had never experienced the actual joys of feelings for someone, and wondering if they liked me back. Thor was my first. And chances are, he would never feel the same way.

He was a literal god, and he lived up to that fact. I was just an average Midgardian, with a silly school-girl crush. It would never happen.

Silly thing that Fate was. She had to make the only man I found irresistible, unattainable too. What a bitch.

“Hey. Are you ready?” Natasha asked referring to our daily training.

“Yes, what’s on the agenda today?” I ask, a bit confused that she isn’t in her workout attire.

“Well you’ll h–”

“What? Why?” I squeak, before she can finish her thought…well before she can finish her sentence. According to her thoughts, I’d now be training with Odinson.

“I think you’ve graduated from me, kiddo. You can read my thoughts fast enough to predict as well as react to all of my oncoming moves.” Natasha relayed, a hint of sadness detectable through her words. Though she behaved like an older sister to me, she would miss throwing me around on the mat. “We’ll have to see how you do against someone whose actions you can’t predict, just in case that problem comes up out in the field.” She informed me while walking away, before I could confront her.

“Can’t it be someone else?” I yell to her, but she doesn’t answer.

“You wound me, Y/N.” That deep familiar voice bellowed from behind me. “And here I thought you enjoyed my company.”

Oh you have no idea, I thought to myself, as I spun on my feet to face him. I craned my neck to peer up at his eyes. One was a pretty hazel, while the other a deep blue. Cerulean. Funny how he’s the reason I’ve grown so fond of the color after all of these months.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t think its fair is all. You know? With you being a god.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to handle me? Do not fret. I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than you could handle.” He said, wiggling his brows suggestively, while flashing a smile. I suppose I failed to mention that he was a massive flirt that could put even Tony Stark to shame. “I promise to take it easy on you.” He furthered, smirking and winking his hazel orb.

“Why do I feel like your idea of taking it easy is vastly different from mine.” I say, trying to settle the butterflies.

“Whatever you’ve heard about me is nonsense. I’m a merciful master.” He assured. “We’ll just do some light work today: of course we’ll start with stretching, then 30 laps around the facility to build your stamina, a few hours of work on the machines to build your muscle—because my lady you are a dainty little thing, and then we’ll end the day with an hour or two of sparring.”

At the sight of my dumbstruck face, Thor says, “I’m sorry that must be too light. How does 50 laps and three hours of sparring, sound?”

“Are you joking?”

“You’re right. I have some matters to attend to on Asgard, but I think we can squeeze in 75 laps, take it or leave it.”

Realizing how deathly serious he was, I quickly say, “I’ll leave it. Let’s get started.” Deciding to address the subject of excessive training later, I turn to begin my stretches.

Quiet. As usual. I was alone with my thoughts, which was something that only happened quite literally when I was alone. I couldn’t help but be immensely aware of his presence.

Moments like these i’d die to know what he was thinking. Especially when I could feel his stare. It burned worse than fire on my skin.

Fire couldn’t compare to his actual touch, however. The same touch I now felt on my upper back. For a man who weighed over 600 pounds, he was as stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be. His thick fingers against my spine raised goosebumps to my flesh. I would have jumped out of my body if he wasn’t there to keep me grounded.

“My apologies. It was not my intention to startle you.” He informed, through a deep hearty chuckle. “I just needed to correct your form. Your time on the field will suffer if you continue with your training like this.”

“Oh.” I replied, tensing a bit as one of his hands traveled around to my stomach and the other pushed against my spine to straighten my posture. My mind was hazy, and if I had even understood the words he spewed a moment ago, that status now changed.

“It all makes me wonder what the Lady Spider has been teaching you.” He continued, as if he didn’t notice the change in my demeanor. “Better.”

When he stepped away from me, I released a small shaky breath. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. Maybe he did notice the change.

I mentally decided that I would ask him the months-long question I had always wondered about. “What’s on yours.” I state instead of ask, trying to resume my stretches.

“Pardon?” Thor asked. “Do you wonder about what is I ponder? Or is that your answer?

“Both.” I say without hesitation. “Why can’t I read your mind?”

“I’m afraid that’s by design, my lady.”

I stop stretching and turn around to ask, “How?” He had my full attention now.

Shortly after he corrected my posture, Thor had propped himself up against one of the machines to properly examine my form while I stretched. I tried to ignore how awkward that made me feel.

“Since an early age I’ve had to learn to guard my thoughts.” He stated. “My brother is the God of Mischief, and Loki often played games of the mind. Mother took notice of how much it was ailing me, and taught me a few useful tricks on how to keep him out. I guess I’ve always practiced them, even in his absence. I don’t know if I even know how to stop it.”

“Oh.” I breathed out. Trying to make sense of his words.

While I was doing that, he asked,“May I ask why it is you wish to know? I thought you hated your gift.”

“I do. But I guess it still feels odd to not be able to use it on someone. I have no clue what you’re thinking let alone how you feel about me. It unsettles me.” I immediately regretted saying the last part as soon as it was out.

His reaction did not aid my embarrassment. A thunderous laugh erupted from his throat. It was the kind of laugh that you could feel in your abs, and I knew this because his whole torso shook as it spread through his vocal cords. He was genuinely amused.

His amusement prompted me to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“How I feel about you.” I think he mutter softly, before following a little louder to himself, “It’s weakened you.”

“What did you say?” I never had to ask someone to repeat themselves unironically, until I met him.

“Your ability I mean. It has impaired you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I think the word is ‘spoiled’. Yes that seems to be the perfect descriptor.” He teased.

His words made me feel small and silly. Almost insignificant. “Excuse me?”

Sensing my irritation, he quickly told me, “I meant no disrespect. Its just most of your kind and some of mine are not awarded the same privileges that you have. We rely on body language and hidden meanings behind words to determine how someone feels. Well with the exception of me of course, because who would not adore me?” He joked. “But that’s beside the point. You have not yet learned how to read between the lines. Which is why I unsettle you.”

“I know how to read body language, I’m not an idiot.” I say a bit more sharply than I intended. My sense of inferiority getting the best of me.

“I’m not implying that you are, just that if it were not for your talent you would know have known what was on my mind ages ago.”

“That makes no sense. If I couldn’t read minds, i’d be in the same place I am now: unable to know what it is you think.”

“My dear, even if you could read my mind it would make no difference, for I’ve already made my feelings towards you painfully clear. One need not the aid of your capabilities.”

“Thor, could you stop the riddles—”

He ignored my pleas and kept going. “But just to be explicitly clear this time, since obviousness is lost on you—”

“Stop insulting—”

“I shall tell you how I feel about you.” He stepped and leaned in closer, as if what he was about to say was a secret meant for only my ears. “Listen closely because I will say this but once, so be wary not to misunderstand: I desire you.” He explained, words dripping with the utmost sincerity.

My brain started racing. And I suddenly realized just how close he was. “You desire me?” I repeated to myself.

“Yes. I desire you.” He stated again, anticipating my uncertainty.

If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. My poor ribcage wasn’t built for this.

“A-A-as a friend right?” I stutter out. “Because we aren’t, we aren’t close, like the rest of the team? Yes,” I breathe out. “That has to be what you mean.” I say that last part more to myself than to him. Clearly I’ve misunderstood his words, even though he warned me not to.

“While I would value a companionship, I’m afraid that is not all I mean when I say I desire you.”

“Eerr” Words are hard to form all of the sudden. Stammering out sounds is all that I can do.

The air around us stilled, and it was pregnant with silence. He gave me a moment to think before asking, “Would you like further explanation.”

“Yes please.” I rush out quickly. “I think that will clear things up a bit more.”

“Right it would. Well If you wish to know what’s on my brain when you’re near, I shall tell you.” His words are teasingly slow, and he knows this.

"But I doubt,” He continues, “i’ll be able to properly convey just how bad I long to be in your presence when you are gone. Just how much I battle myself when it comes to finding any excuse to touch you. As you know, I lost one of those battles today. I don’t know if you can handle, just how much I imagine your warm embrace to be. How tender I’ve imagined your lips to feel. I just know them to be softer than rose petals and sweeter than nectar.”

“In fact,” He started. I could almost physically see the lightbulb go off over his head. And then, he began ridding us of the rest of our space, extending his long arm to snake around my waist, and pulling me against his chest at a speed faster than lighting. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put that theory to test.”

It was like a lucid dream. I was only allowed to watch everything play out before me, without the luxury of making any actions myself. It took great focus on my part to even will my head to move. My nod was so subtle I was unsure if he could even see it. But the God of Thunder had more than enough to go off on.

He joined the hand around my waist with his other, and shortly after I could feel my feet rise from the ground. My hands that were previously glued to his chest, found their place behind his neck to support the rest of my body. His head met me the rest of the way, before he blanketed his lips over mine.

He released one of the hands around my waist, to bring it up to my face. His fingers, now fastened to my jaw, slightly parted my lips allowing him to further explore my mouth with his. As massaged my tongue with his own, I could feel his eyelashes dance across my cheeks. That’s how close he was.

Most beards are scratchy and rough, but his felt like silk against my skin. His lips were even softer, and were like velvet in comparison.

I inhaled the scent of rain on freshly cut grass. It reminded me of dewy meadows and Irish springs. His touch was firm, but he managed to hold me with care, like a bull who had trained for years with the sole purpose of entering a china shop.

He tasted like what summer felt like, if you could make sense of it. The kiss had the same intensity behind severe thunderstorms. Beautiful but deadly. I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff: desperate to chase this thrill, but also wary of whether or not it was worth dying for.

I mentally decided that I could expire in his arms, and be perfectly content with that decision.

I got more into it. I thought that if this was a dream I’d take full advantage of it. Surely dream Thor would be fine with me taking over the kiss. It felt only natural.

I decided it was time for my tongue to do the exploring. My lips needed to memorize the feel of his. My hands wanted to study every strand of hair that lived on the nape of his neck. That was only fair right?

I was enjoying his embrace so much, that I mistook the spinning in my head for shock from kissing a god, instead of the telltale signs of an impending headache. The lack of air in my lungs was because he took my breath away in a figurative sense, instead of the literal physical sense it actually was. The ache that spread throughout my body wasn’t because of the suffocating grip he had to keep me pressed to his chest, but because our bodies were on the brink of fusing into one.

On second thought, maybe dying in his arms is more painful than I previously thought.

I tapped out, and he immediately released me, placing me gently on the ground. I struggled for air, but it was like he didn’t miss a beat. Not a drop of sweat in sight on his gorgeous face. Instead, I could see a bright smile forming.

“Are my thoughts clear enough, now?” He asked, breaking out into smirk.

But I had no time to acknowledge his joke, for I could feel reality setting back in. And reality is, I was a flustered fuck.

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. “I must be holding you from your business on Asgard!”

“What? No—”

But he had no time to argue, for in a flash I was already gathering my gym bag and heading for the door.

“What about your training?” I heard him yell.

“I’m sorry! Maybe another time!” And after that, I practically sprinted to get out of earshot before he could protest or stop me.

I raced passed Peter who was on his way into the gym. “Y/N! Are you okay?” I heard him yell. But what was strange is that I couldn’t hear him think it, despite being more than enough distance away from Thor.

“I’m fine.” I yelled back, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Maybe Peter’s mouth was faster than his thoughts.

No. That wasn’t it, because as I raced through the tower, everyone’s minds were silent, even though they were chatting casually with one another. That never happened.

I burst through the nearest lady’s room, desperate to calm my nerves, when I saw Natasha applying red lipstick. The action by itself wasn’t disturbing, but the expression she wore was.

“Don’t tell the others.” She voiced, in a threatening tone.

“Don’t tell the others what?” I asked confused. Maybe she’d be able to take my mind off of things.

She looked at me like I had grown two heads, much like the first day we met when I proved that I could read her thoughts. “I know you read them. But this is different Y/N, the guys will never let me live this one down.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the date.”

“You’re going on a date?” No wonder she was so panicked. The woman was more comfortable with killing than she was with being vulnerable.

“Yes—What is wrong with you?” She half-yelled, interrupting herself as if she just realized something was wrong.

I had, had enough with trying to not think about him, because the task was damn near impossible so I decided to just say it. “Thor admitted his feelings for me. And then we kissed!” I cried.

Oh, Nat mouthed, taking a more comfortable position against the bathroom sink. She leaned against its counter, and crossed her arms,“And now you can’t take your mind off of him.”

It was my turn to look at her like she was a lunatic. “How did you know that? Are you a mind-reader too?”

Song for the Chapter: Waiting For You by the Aces: Pretty Self-explanatory lyrics. Think of the song from Thor’s POV

part II

A/N: If you made it this far, don’t be afraid to tell me what you think :)

#thor #thor imagines #thor x reader #thor fluff #thor x black!reader #avenger reader #mcu imagines #black avenger reader #fluff #chris hemsworth #black!reader #black!writer #thor ragnorak

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malereader-inserts · 4 years

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Greetings from the Avengers’ Base

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Avengers & Male!Reader Summary: How you got close to the original six Avengers Word Count: 1,291 Request: I saw ur post & thought... maybe how the reader got to know each avenger and how they became friends / a team. Some fluffy friendship shorts :3 Love ur writing, bo <3 A/n: FUCK CANON TIMELINE, WE’RE MAKING OUR OWN.

Being an orphan teenager with nothing better in your life going for you, it’s hard.

It’s strange when you’re a superhero and currently living at Avengers, under the parental care of Nicholas Fury, who has expressed that does not mean you can call him dad. Not that you wanted to anyway. You’ve been an Avenger since you were fourteen, when the first time the Avengers got together, you were part of the original group.

At first, it was daunting, no one understood why you were there and there were times you wondered why you were there too. You were too young and especially fighting for the world. You proved yourself, immensely, to the team. One by one they took turns to get to know you. They didn’t want to overwhelm you.

Tony took you under his wing, seeing a bright young man with a bright future ahead of him. He helped you with school work, he acted like a father to you. Just because the constant thought that ran through Tony’s mind was that he would be a better father than his father will ever be. He would drop anything, press meetings, conference, anything if you asked him to come play catch with him.

You looked up to Tony, you saw a side of him not many people see. You enjoyed hanging around his tower, you were fascinated with JARVIS. You watched how Tony would ramble with his robots, you got friendly with Dum-E.

You would always see Tony as your dad, in fact, Tony has been fighting for your custody, to finally adopt you. It shocked Pepper and Rhodey that he wanted to do this in his own accord.

“I’m gonna make you a Stark, one day kid.”

You smiled, leaning against his lab desk, “Good luck on that, papers are hard to convince even if you’re a billionaire.”

“A challenge worth defeating.”

Steve was the one the came around next, whilst he heavily disapprove you being part of the team, he started to get close to you when you were asking his time back in his era. You were heavily invested in your history class and when the 30s came as a topic, you knew who to ask about the times. It was nice to Steve, it allowed him to think about his days.

He likes the modern times, but he misses when times were simpler. It’s still hard for him to grasp new concepts. Then, you started to gush about his drawing that you begged him to teach you, you were a blast to be with. Whilst he taught you how to draw, you taught him the new stuff. You kept him young and never left him confused, for that he was eternally grateful for you. In fact, to this day you were still helping him out.

“So, what is tumblr?”

“Hell.”

“Wha-?”

“Just don’t touch it, Steve.”

Bruce was easy to get along when Tony was busy and you needed help on your science homework, Bruce was the next best thing. Whilst you were above average in intelligence, sometimes Bruce can lose you at times. But, once Bruce got over his fear of accidentally hulking out on you, he would talk non stop.

He’s actually a funny guy.

He can help you with Biology and Chemistry, even if you just wanted additional readings to get ahead of your peers, but when you come bouncing into the labs asking about Physics, you’ve never seen Bruce light up brighter than a Christmas tree. He gets way into it, it makes you laugh because, after a long rant - where has most definitely lost you, he looks at you asking if you got that.

To which you blankly stare at him and say no.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorry, Bruce,” You apologised as he waves you off.

“It’s okay, I’ll go slower this time...”

“Oh god.”

Thor was confused to why a baby is on the team, after all, age is different between the two realms. You had to explain that you weren’t a babe, that you were a pre-teen and that you’re actually grown to an extent. Nevertheless, Thor had to adjust to Midgard life for a bit, that means you would experiment cooking on the poor God. You were alright at cooking at least for someone at your age.

But, there are days you feel devious where you would cook something that would be horrendous and make Thor taste it, sometimes it backfires on you and you would put together a really delicious meal, other times it becomes successful and you would see Thor’s nice exterior crumble a little bit before nicely saying it tastes good.

“How is it?”

“It’s something...” Thor says before smiling with food in his mouth, “It’s really good, (Y/n)!”

“Thanks!” Turning your back to giggle to yourself as Thor spits it in a napkin, only to give you a thumbs up when you turn back to look at him.

Clint and Natasha were different, they were constantly busy with work that they barely got to know you until they got stuck babysitting you. You had loudly got on the wrong side of Fury causing him to ground you and the two spies to look after you. It was their punishment went a mission almost went wrong.

You were pissy with them, like any other teenager going through teenage angst. You got on both the spies’ nerves, until one day you sat down and it seems like you calm down, you were easy for Clint and Natasha to handle until you heard swears and shouting coming from Nick’s office. You grin to yourself as you grabbed both the wrist of each spy and bucked it out of the room you were occupying.

Turns out, in your protest of being grounded, you decided to prank Nick. And because you couldn’t alone at the SHIELD base, you dragged both spies around with you. It got to the point that the spies were showing you hiding spaces and even helping you prank their superior.

At the end of the day, when Nick finds you in the room, he asked what you’ve been doing. You show him that you’ve been doing homework and drawing for Steve. Fury can’t prove you wrong as the two spies back you up.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong, Boss,” Clint says, forcing his mischievous smile to be concealed.

“It’s been a brat, but he’s been doing what we’ve told him to do,” Natasha backs it up.

You looked at him angelic like, “I’ve been good today.”

Nick looked annoyed, “Sure you have.”

So, as the years continued, more people joining the team, no one has gotten close to than the original six of seven members of the team. You’ve made friends with Vision, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey, but no one got as close to you as the six of them did.

So, here you stood with a party hat on your head, smiling to your family. You were living in the new Avengers’ base, it wasn’t the tower anymore, but it’s better to have somewhere to live. There are banners hanging about, saying happy birthday. Confetti and balloons sprawled on the floor, the lights are dimmed down and strobe lights flashing.

There’s a pile of presents, one that contains official adoption papers. Tony is holding the cake, it’s lit up with candles, the team is standing around or behind Tony, facing the celebrant, the kid who was heart and soul of the team.

“Happy Birthday (Y/n)!” They exclaimed.

You’re now eighteen, it’s been four years with the team, nothing can ruin your family, nothing can go any better than his. You’re happy, so they’re happy too.

“Make a wish!”

And so you did.

#Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x male reader #x male reader #t #tony stark x male!reader #steve rogers x male!reader #Thor odinson x male!reader #bruce banner x male!reader #natasha romanoff x male!reader #clint barton x male!reader #platonic

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kidney9-9 · 4 years

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Coconut Cream-Pie

Anonymous asked:

Having dinner with May and she makes a coconut cream pie for you and Peter, everything is fine until she asks you if you liked the pie, turning your head to Peter and deciding to get a little revenge after he has been teasing you all day long and making you embarrassed, you smile and say: sure I love creampies. Peter chokes so hard on his food that he needs to get up to breathe again, while you are just sitting there acting like you didn't give a boner to the poor boy

Hey sweetie anon! Hope you enjoy! This was really fun to write, but please read the warnings. Peter Parker and Reader are above legal age in this story. Thank you :) Masterlist in bio. (I might have to repost this if it doesn’t show on tags. I’ve had that problem for a few days now.)

Peter Parker x Reader (Fluff/Implied Smut) Warnings: swearing, teasing and boner Word Count: 1.3k

Fucking Peter Parker was fun and all, until you couldn’t. He’d been teasing you all day, pushing your buttons in ways you didn’t even know possible. The first thing he did when you showed up at his place was take his shirt off, because he was “too warm”. He had grey sweatpants on as well, and fuck it, when you tried to cup his cock when he started to make out with you, he pulled away after biting down on your lip hard. The way he’d bite his lips, lick his fingers, any fucking action he did, you got horny. It trickled all the way down to his breathing – when you were laying on his chest, and he’d whisper and groan about all the things he wanted to do to you – and then cut off his sentences, only to leave you guessing and hearing his breathing.

You wanted to fuck him so bad. Tug his hair violently, bite down on his shoulder, claw at his back and downright fuck his cock. Fuck the romance, you just wanted sex, and maybe a snack afterwards if it goes on for hours. But no, you couldn’t. He teased the fucking hell out of you the whole day, trying to make you snap – and you already did multiple times, but he didn’t give up. He wanted to see you suffer in a twisted punishment that he enjoyed so much.

You were getting revenge. You needed to.

That fucking dickhead was going to understand your suffering just as you did. It didn’t matter to you if you weren’t going to jump his dick as fast, but just seeing him all hard and no reward would just make you smirk.

Seeing him beg for you to ease up; seeing him reach up at you, begging eagerly, tears brimming as you’d barely touch the tip of his cock. You’d chuckle, deny him, twice as many times as he did to you.

Dinner was quite lovely. You sat close to Peter, feeling the need to fuck him intensify as he clasped down on your thigh. You sipped the soup quietly as May set down her drink, grinning to the both of you. You politely spoke up, “This is lovely! What’s the secret ingredient in this? Don’t think I’ve ever had such a lovely soup, it’s so creamy.”

Peter glanced over to you confused at your enthusiasm. May’s eyebrows popped up before laughing slightly, “Oh! It’s probably the heavy cream. I added a few more drops of it with some dried basil for the taste.” Her answer made you nod and smile before gazing over to Peter.

“Isn’t it the best? How everything just melts in your mouth and drips down your chin, but you can’t get enough and lick it all up, Peter?” His eyes widened as you leaned closer to him, innocently speaking of the soup, but now his face darkened, trying not to think of what you reminded him of. May, unaware of the tension between the two of you, giggled again in delight that you enjoyed the soup so much.

“I’ll send you the recipe. Oh! Before I forget, I also made pie! I’ll get it now since we’re done with the soup.” She stood up and walked away as you set you gaze back to Peter. You smiled sweetly to him, holding the spoon up to your lips and licked away suggestively and messily, maintaining your eye contact.

His grip on your thigh tightened incredibly as he groaned. “What the fuck are you doing?” He muttered to you, hoping May couldn’t hear. You shrugged back to him nonchalant, setting your spoon down before you started to scoop around your lips and chin, smearing the leftover the soup onto two fingers before dipping them into your mouth.

You moaned softly, enjoying the flavor and texture, licking up and down your finger to collect every drop. Peter gasped as his face became red, his hand tearing away from your leg as he stared at you in shock and lust.

“You- you can’t do that.” He stuttered out as you pulled your fingers out of your mouth, sighing loudly. Your fingers drifted down your cleavage slowly, and teasingly in front of him, “Did I get any here?” You questioned, tilting your head back to him while pouting.

You tugged down on your shirt just enough for Peter to get a glimpse of your bra and he stood up instantly, coughing as May started to walk back into the room. You smiled at her after pretending to fix your shirt and she set the pie on the table. Your mouth dropped at the site of the pie, it looked absolutely scrumptious and you licked your lips, knowing Peter was watching you.

He sat back down after clearing his throat. May cut a slice for you and placed it on a new plate with other utensils and one for Peter before she sat back down, fixing herself a slice. You took a big bite of the coconut pie, and practically collapsed back against the chair dramatically and moaning.

“Wow, this is delicious!” You spoke up, licking your fork before dipping it back to the slice. Peter’s hands grasped onto the table harshly, eyes widened as he watched you, almost frozen. May continued eating, giggling at your compliments.

“You’re so sweet. I’m glad you like the food.” She replied to you as you took another slow bite. This time you kept the fork in your mouth, eyes rolling back and head tilting upwards as you sighed and groaned.

“So good, I need more…” You trailed off, eyes glancing to Peter quickly to see the boner popping in his pants, ready to burst out. His neck became red too, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

May smiled to you after she took a sip of her drink again, “You enjoy pie, I’m guessing?” Her question was so perfect, you couldn’t hold the small snicker coming out of your mouth. You nodded to her, now gazing to Peter so heavily he felt his breath hitch.

“Sure, I love cream-pies.”

The answer caused Peter to choke against nothing. He hadn’t even tasted the coconut cream pie that May set out for him, because he was too busy trying not to fuck up. He stood up quickly, before his eyes widened, realizing that May might see his boner and he quickly tried to sit back down in the chair, but instead he missed.

He landed on the floor with a loud groan, and he rolled over so his ass was up in the air, and his face against the ground, coughing violently. One hand gripped his boner, trying to push it or ease it down as the other was waving up in the air as he tried to speak up.

You and May gazed down to Peter; a bit amused. “You need to send me that recipe too.” You giggled to her, and Peter finally started to calm his choking down.

“I’m fine! I’m okay! And yeah, cream-pies are- fuck, ouch.” Peter called out, rolling again as he bumped his head up against the inside of the table. You and May watched on in horror as his untouched plate of coconut cream pie barely tipped over the table and landed straight onto his crotch.

He yelped out in shock and gazed down at the ruined cream pie that was now covering his boner. He slowly stood up, gazing at the floor in humiliation and embarrassment. He clutched onto the plate, insisting he needed it to stay there as he slowly sat back down in his seat.

“Want a bite?” You offered to him, leaning over with the fork in your hand. And sure enough, Peter slowly opened his mouth, and bit down on the fork, eating the piece you gave him.

May awed at the two of you, “So sweet! You two make a great couple!” You thanked her as you fed Peter another bite. She went back out of the room, to get more water for everyone and you turned completely to Peter with a smirk.

“Don’t fuck with me again.” You whispered to him, and his eyebrows shot up in return and he shook his head in defeat.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader insert #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman smut #avengers #avengers smut #peter parker fanfiction #thank you for sending this in #love y'all #kidney9-9

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xomarauders · 3 years

Text

posted this on ao3 awhile back and had a hard time getting tumblr to upload it, but it finally worked so here you go

content warning for referenced child abuse

The warmth of summer filtered through the window, casting rays of sunshine across the floor of James Potter’s bedroom carpet where Remus was splayed out, tracing patterns into the ridiculously soft material. He was sure that James charmed it to keep it so fluffy, otherwise it would not have survived the footfalls of four, rowdy boys that found refuge here during the summer. It used to be only the three of them—James, Remus, and Peter, that is—until Sirius was able to join permanently halfway through the summer season. His parents had never allowed for him to visit the Potter’s while he was still living under their roof, but now that the raven-haired boy had run away and was officially disowned, well, Remus was sure the carpet would have wilted under Padfoot’s grubby paws by now.

Either way, Remus was sure that there was nothing better than laying on James’ charmed carpet with his three best friends, listening to music from the record player—that had also been charmed to work without electricity—and chatting about whatever came to their minds. They were all sat on the floor aside from Sirius, who was perched in the window, smoking, and watching as the birds flew around outside. Remus smirked—the boy really was such a dog.

“It’s our last years at Hogwarts, boys,” James announced as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “what are we going to do once it’s all over?”

It was a question that held a lot of weight, depending on how you looked at it. What were they going to do as far as it came to pranks and leaving their legacy at Hogwarts or what were they going to do as soon as they graduated. Maybe get jobs, possibly go to university, more likely join the Order to fight a war they didn’t start. Remus didn’t care to think about any of these things. His future had been something he considered to be doomed since he was four years old and suddenly had to share his mind with a beast that tore apart his body every month. He had never even planned on having the life he had gotten—the chance to go to Hogwarts, to make friends…to fall in love.

He cast glance toward Sirius, whose own gray eyes were already looking to Remus, a thoughtful expression on his face. Remus grinned at him, tilting his head so that his curls fell into his eyes. Sirius smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d been smiling like that a lot, lately. Remus made a mental note to ask him about it later that night.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I have no idea what I’m going to do without all of you around,” Peter said.

“Don’t worry, mate,” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder, “you can’t get rid of us that easy! Marauders till the end, right?”

There was a certain admiration that Remus held for James Potter, the savior of the cursed and the damned. He had banded them all together; the timid boy, the broken werewolf, and the wayward heir to make a family. Remus would never be able to repay James for the unconditional love he’d shown him, but he was willing to try everyday for the rest of his life.

“Marauders till the end,’ Sirius repeated, extracting himself from the window as he put out his cigarette. He joined them on the floor, laying down next to Remus and pressing himself tightly against the other boy. Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius, partially out of habit and partially because it was what Sirius needed, something he was starved of. Touch had been something of a guessing game between the two of them ever since they started their relationship. Neither of them were quite used to being touched in such casual ways until they became friends with James—who was constantly giving out hugs like they were candy—and starting a relationship had made the concept even more confusing. Not only did they have to think about what sort of casual touching was okay for each of them, but now they had to factor in intimate contact. Kissing was okay, just as long as they were alone in the safety of Remus’ four poster bed or hidden in one of the various alcoves they had discovered while creating the Marauders Map. Remus thought it might even be okay here, in James’ bedroom, to sweetly kiss his boyfriend without fear of judgment or ridicule. Still, he let Sirius make those decisions, allowed him to initiate any sort of contact between them because while Remus’ aversion to touch stemmed from not being able to trust himself, Sirius’ came from not being able to trust others. He was easily spooked by any sort of sudden movement that came his way, a side effect of Walburga Black’s outstanding parenting skills, and no amount of James’ casual hugs or Remus’ gentle caresses have seemed to break him of this habit.

“What are you thinking about, Moons?” Sirius whispered. James and Peter were too busy arguing over which record to play next to notice their other two friends.

“You,” Remus said easily. Sirius blushed—an image Remus would never tire of seeing—and reached up with his slender fingers to brush away the curls that had fallen in Remus’ eyes.

“Me,” Sirius said, a hint of astonishment in his voice.

Remus wished Sirius wouldn’t sound so surprised at the idea of someone thinking of him. It hurt to know that Sirius did not quite value himself the same way Remus, James and Peter did and it was times like these where Remus wanted to meet Walburga and Orion Black in person just so he could give them a piece of his mind.

“Lads,” James said, throwing himself on top of them unceremoniously, “let’s head on downstairs. I think mum’s made dinner.”

The four of them trailed down the stairs, Sirius holding Remus’ hand while James raced ahead to slide down the railing. Fleamont was in the parlor, reading the newspaper and looking up as the boys made their presence known. He greeted them all, and asked James in a calm tone to perhaps not ride the staircase like a broomstick. James at least had the decency to turn red before assuring his dad it would never happen again (everyone knew it would). Euphemia was in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and her gray hair up in a knot on her head. Sirius leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and she gently reached out to him, not quite taking his face in her hands until she saw the smallest nod of permission.

“My darling,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears, “you look well.”

Remus knew what Euphemia was thinking about as she took in Sirius’ appearance. It was the same thing he had thought of over and over again as he laid in bed at night, his arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend in attempt to keep him safe from the nightmares that occupied his mind. The frail and beaten Sirius that had collapsed on the Potter’s doorstep those few weeks ago had been nursed back to health by the healing powers and carefulness of Euphemia Potter. Still, it was hard to get that image of Sirius lying half dead out of Remus’ mind. He could hardly imagine what it was like for Euphemia who had seen the worst of his injuries after shoving everyone else out of the room in order to heal him. James, Remus, and Peter had stayed up all night, waiting outside the spare bedroom door where they could hear Euphemia sobbing over Sirius’ sleeping form. Remus would rather have faced the full moon a hundred times instead of waiting those long three days for Sirius to wake up.

“Thanks, mum,” Sirius said. The four boys crowded around the kitchen table, eagerly reaching toward the various dishes Euphemia had spread about. Fleamont had joined them, sitting between his wife and Sirius. James immediately went for his mother’s main dish, filling his plate full before passing it to Peter, who was already nibbling on some naan. Remus loved Euphemia’s cooking. It was different than that of his mother’s—not that he would ever pass up his mam’s wonderful Sunday dinners—and he was happy to able to enjoy the different flavors offered whenever he visited. Euphemia always made far too much, making sure that everyone got their fill as well as some leftovers. She was an angel, truly.

Sirius did not fill his plate as full as the others. He was still very thin, with his jaw looking more pronounced and Remus knew his hipbones were a bit more jutted out. Punishments at Grimmauld Place were harsh and Sirius had been starved well into the first few months of summer. It was still a process, trying to get him to eat without getting sick, but they were managing best they could. Remus watched as Sirius poked at his food, looking a bit scared of it before setting his fork down and letting out a frustrated sigh. James looked up from his own plate, regarding Sirius with a look of concern from across the table.

“You okay there, Padfoot?” He asked, keeping his tone light but Remus could see the worry in his dark eyes. Sirius nodded, picking up his utensils once more.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He trailed off, looking down at the table and not daring to meet anyone’s eye. Remus felt a sudden need to shield Sirius away from everyone else’s intense gaze, the wolf within him becoming quite territorial. He pushed those feeling away, not permitting the wolf access to its most basic instincts in the fear that the wolf might be visible on the surface. Still, even his human mind seemed to want to take Sirius away from the scrutiny.

“Darling,” Euphemia said, “you don’t have to eat it all. Just a few bites of naan if you can bear it. Just to keep up your strength.”

Sirius smiled tightly at her but did not move to eat. The rest of them reluctantly picked at their own food, trying to keep things as normal as possible. Fleamont engaged his son in conversation about Quidditch, asking after the Gryffindor team and what he thought their chances were this upcoming school year. Peter politely asked after the herbs Euphemia was growing in her kitchen—he had a thing for herbology—and she answered each question with detail. Remus turned his attention to Sirius, his hand coming to rest on the older boy’s knee. Sirius flinched slightly and then blinked as he realized it was only Remus.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Remus asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumb into Sirius’ thigh. The other boy nodded, standing quickly, and exiting the kitchen. The conversations happening came to an abrupt halt and Remus could feel James’ gaze turn towards him. He looked to his friend, a silent conversation passing between them.

Is he okay?

No, but he will be.

Remus walked out, trailing through the living room and out the back door which lead to the Potter’s spacious garden. When Remus had first visited the Potter’s home when he was thirteen, he had the startling realization that James Potter was very well off. It was a bit daunting, especially since Remus’ whole house could probably fit within one room of the mansion and he had been a bit nervous to even touch anything in fear of breaking it. Of course, Fleamont and Euphemia were no stranger to rough-housing, having known exactly what they were getting into with their own son, and Remus’ worries were quickly put to ease when Euphemia simply waved her wand at a vase that had tragically fallen to the floor amidst their game of dog-pile on Peter. Young Remus had almost forgotten that magic existed outside of Hogwarts, and he was in awe at seeing performed in such a domestic setting.

His favorite part of James’ home though was the garden. It was so big! There were wonderful trees that provided much needed shade on hot summer days, and pools of water run by magic to keep the vegetation alive. There were many times the boys pretended to be magizoologists searching for creatures in a jungle, or highly trained aurors on the hunt for evil wizards and—Remus’ personal favorite—pirates looking for treasure. It was a place filled with joy and adventure and even as the boys got older, it remained their sanctuary. Sirius had spent a lot of time in the garden since he arrived, sitting by himself beneath the starlit sky, crying out for his brother and the family that had hurt him. Remus had watched in privately, not daring to intrude on such moments, but wanting to be within reach just in case.

Sirius sat there now, next to a bed of deep red roses, softly running his fingers across the petals. Remus walked up, careful not spook him, and sat down beside him. He flickered his eyes in Sirius’ direction and noticed the other boy had started crying, but he did not pry. Now was not the time for that. Instead, he let his fingers trail through the grass beneath him and let his words fall lazily off his tongue.

“I read a new book at the beginning of summer,” Remus began, his tone light. “Mrs. Dalloway. It was a quick read. The entire novel takes place over the course of one day, how interesting is that? It’s become one of my favorites I think. Woolf is a great author—Virginia Woolf, she’s the one who wrote it.”

Sirius seemed to perk up at this. “Woolf? Could you be anymore ironic, Moony?”

A light laugh escaped Remus. “Believe me, I know. Mum was worried about that when she got it for me.”

The tension snapped back into Sirius as quickly as Remus realized his mistake. Hope Lupin was a generous woman, young and vibrant with a taste for progressive ideologies and love for everyone she met. She adored her son and kept him safe, never shying away from him despite his affliction with lycanthropy and Remus sometimes forgot how lucky he was to have her in his life until he was sat next to Sirius and realized that the Hope Lupin’s and Euphemia Potter’s of the world were unfortunately not the norm for everyone.

“They hate me,” Sirius says abruptly. “They hate that I don’t agree with them. That I don’t want to fucking pledge my allegiance to some dark lord who wants to kill all my friends and I—” he chokes off, a sob escaping him, “I don’t want to care, Remus. I don’t want to be bothered by the fact that my mother would rather curse me instead of hug me and that my father would rather have me dead instead of tarnishing his precious family name. But I do. I do care because they should care. I’m their son, I am their fucking flesh and blood and if blood is all that matters to them then why don’t they care about me?”

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Remus, tears that Sirius had been holding back ever since he was eleven years old and discovered that parents were not supposed to punish their children for wanting to be loved, the pain and anguish of that realization that had built up over time finally reaching a breaking point. Remus’ own heart was breaking as he stared helplessly, not knowing what to do. These were not problems children were supposed to have. They were supposed to be young, careless, and dreaming up pranks to pull once they got back to school. Instead, they had to contend with a looming war and parents who were cruel and a curse that transformed you into a monster. This was their life, and it would never be easy, Remus thought, not for them.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, “there are no words I can say to express to you how sorry I am that you’ve had to deal with any of this. Your parents…they’re wrong. They are so fucking wrong and they are so fucking blind for not being able to love you. You are the most loveable human being. You’re generous and caring and you…you take notes for me. When I miss class. And you always make sure my pillows are nice and fluffy after the moon and you rub those soothing salves on my skin at night. And you make me that special tea whenever I’m sick and you read to me when I can’t sleep. You kiss me like it’s the first time every time and you love me like it’s the only thing you’re meant to do. You clean James’ glasses for him and you make sure his Quidditch gear is ready to go on game day. You help Peter study and you let him go on and on about divination with you despite it being your least favorite subject. You’re the first one up to dance with Marlene at the parties and you braid Lily’s hair whenever she’s feeling upset over her sister. You are one of a kind, Sirius Black. You are a good friend and a good brother and you are the love of my life. Believe me when I tell you that you are loved.”

Sirius stared at him, the tears falling from his eyes leaving trails across his cheeks. He reached out for Remus, pulling the taller boy closer to close the distance between them. Sirius’ lips met Remus’, a tender kiss filled with gratitude and love and the promise of forever. When Sirius pulled away, his eyes were still shining, but there was new fervor there, a look of life that Remus had not seen reflected in those silver orbs for a long time.

“I love you so much,” Sirius said. And he smiled genuinely for the first time in months.

Remus smiled back. “I love you, too.”

“Come on,” Sirius said, standing up and offering his hand. “Let’s head back in.”

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romantic-barnes · 4 years

Text

strawberry & tape | part four

| part four - blood red jam |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot Blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: death, possessiveness, mention of non-con, gang violence. This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!

A/n: I am so sorry. oof. please don’t read if you are under 18!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

The days dragged on, leaving you breathless. Days spend in the bed, not even crying. You knew that not going to work was possibly the worst thing you could do, but not a bone in your body was able to move, all muscles numb, your head screaming at you to stay in bed. There seemed to be nothing left for you. The thing Bucky did to you left you scared. If that’s what he was going to do to you for not believing you, then what other things was he capable of doing?

The bed started to smell like sweat, grime and dirt. You were disgusted with yourself, the way you could let go of yourself. Over the last few days you had let yourself go like you’ve never done before.

One of the girls, Natasha, brought you food every morning and evening. She told you that Bucky wanted to make sure you were well fed and taken care of, but the gesture that would appear sweet and caring, made you want to puke violently. After violating you, shaming you in public for anyone to see he wanted to take care of you?

But you ate. You pushed down the bites with difficulty, because the thought of what he would do if you didn’t frightened you and you hated yourself for it. That you bend so easily at his wish.

After days of laying in the murky bed, you decided to take a shower, washing away the dirt piling on top of your skin. Your hand traced your skin, the disassociation of your own body frightened you. The soft flesh felt like someone else’s. Your hand lowered following the water’s stream, down to your pelvis, down to your core.

You hissed as you touched your sensitive skin. A shiver running up your body from the pain. Even after days and days of laying in bed, the pain never subsided and Bucky’s fingers left their mark, ghosting on top of your body like foul mold. A soff sob left your lips as you gently washed yourself, a hand steadying yourself on the wall opposite you, closing your eyes as your tears mixed with the water.

Stepping out of the shower you looked at yourself in the mirror. You traced the contours of your face with your eyes, but the woman in the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize. A woman who’s skin started to crack, the pain creeping out from the cracks beneath. A pile of pain growing like weeds.

As you sat at the table, eating the breakfast Natasha brought you, you knew you needed to go. Staring outside the sun peaked through the clouds. A glimmer of hope. Far away in the big city someone should be able to help you.

After you got ready, you remembered Bucky’s demeanour when you went out for breakfast with Lana, the way he made you ask for permission. The memory send shivers running across your body like a million cockroaches slithering on your skin.

Your feet carried you to his office, like walking on thorns. The door becoming bigger with every step you took towards it. A man stood in front of it and if you weren’t so distracted by the killing machine resting in his hands, you would recognize him as Clint, the father of the girl who tragically died a few years ago.

A big topic for gossip, no respect for the young girl that lost her life too soon, but the people like to talk in Dawn. Some say her father killed her himself, but other believe that she was already dead once her father joined the Howling Commandos and that her death was just an accessory to the name. The girl was discovered by her own mother, laying face down by the church. Her eyes had been carved out and her mouth was sewed shut.

Just looking at him send puke squeezing up your throat.

“What do you want?” Clint barked, death stare on your body.

“I’m here to see Bucky.” You croaked out.

Clint hesitated for a second, but knocked on the door regardless. Bucky granted permission and Clint opened the door for you, revealing the room behind it. You stepped in carefully examining the room. The walls painted red, a deep, morbid red. The pain staining everything it touched with beams of red.

Bucky sat behind the desk, leaning back on his chair, a sinister smile painting his lips. The door behind you shut close and the prospect of being in a room alone with him frightened you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bucky said, tilting his head.

It took you a little to form the words carefully in your head. “I wanted to ask if I could go visit Lana.” As soon as the words left you, your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

“That’s cute, but I need more than that.” Bucky’s smile formed to a smirk as he rolled his chair back. “Come here.” He ordered with a whisper.

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but your hart started to race. A slow step forward and determination took over. Just this and you could go forward with your plan. Another step and another. You now stood in front of Bucky, waiting.

Bucky looked up to you. “Get on your knees.”

You swallowed thickly, lowering yourself on your knees like he ordered. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted. You were prepared for the worst, to taste him in your mouth. Your head between the legs of devils’s creation, but even the smartest people can be wrong.

“Beg.”

You looked up to him, confused. The stern look on his face told you he meant it, Bucky wanted you to beg for it. “Can I please go -go to Lana’s house?” The heat in your face travelled down to your neck. “Please, B-bucky?” Your voice almost failed you, but as his smirk widened to a smile you let out a breath of relieve.

“Sure, sugar. But only because you asked so nicely.” Bucky reached his hand out, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He traced from your forehead, down to your temple, to your jaw with the tips of his fingers. His hand travelled down to your throat and with a swift move he enclosed his hand around it, encouraging you to stand with him.

He towered over you with his hand on your neck. “Have fun.” Bucky breathed, his hot breath on your face and you just wanted to cry.

As soon as he released you, you stumbled away from him, backing out of the room while you almost tripped over you feet. The moment you were out of the house, running down the street you were crying. Turning corners, passing people and you knew they would be looking after you, how couldn’t they?

Lana’s house came into view and you slowed down, walking up the steps to her door. You ringed the doorbell and the door swung open. Lana let you in without words.

Once in her room you sat at her desk, opening her laptop. Lana sat on the edge of her bed next to you with questions all over her face. After a while of searching you fund what you were looking for and it was a woman named Maria Hill. a private investigator.

“I’m going to take them down from the inside. Since the police here in Dawn can’t help me, someone in the city surely will.” You spoke without taking your eyes off the screen.

“Y/n, are you sure about this?” You turned to your friend. “Someone saw what Bucky did to you.” Her voice got quiet, a whisper almost.

You lowered your head, the thought of people talking about you, standing in the phone booth. “That’s why I need to do this.”

Lana left the room making tea while you called Maria, explaining the situation you were in. She asked questions you were reluctant to answer, but you did either way. Bucky’s eyes haunted you brain, his voice ringing in your ear making it difficult to focus on the woman’s voice. so much so that she had to pull you back from your thoughts from time to time.

Once you arrived back at the house you avoided everyone like you always did, resorting to your room at every hour. You were supplied with groceries, but that was the only human interaction you got. Your days were filled with sitting by the window, watching everyone live their life free from the invisible handcuffs.

After contacting the private investigator, Lana promised to help you despite her life being on the line as well and you thanked the gods for her. She was to inform you on any details that arise. You were nervous, chewing on your nails down to the nub of your fingertips.

Your nervousness didn’t falter as the day went on.

A knock on the door shook you out of your dream. The opening of your door made you sit up. Two men stood across from the bed, ushering for you to get up. They led you down the stairs to Bucky’s office. The pit in your stomach told you vile things, warnings.

They opened the door, but the scene in front of you made no sense to you. You walked in further, at least four men stood around the room. Bucky stood behind his desk, his hands wrapped around the back of the throat of Lana.

Your breaths became shallow, too fast to catch up.

Lana’s eyes stared into yours, red rimmed and glossy. The two men grabbed your upper arms on either side, but you were too focused on your best friend, standing with him, shaking. The air around so thick it was chocking you.

“Peter over here told me some interesting things, dollface.” Bucky’s anger was visible in his face by the creases on his forehead, fire burning behind the blue of his eyes and you’ve never seen anything like it. “He said that you told Lana about the police and then, oh remember, you tried to call her?”

His words set in and you glanced to Peter standing at the wall, his head down in shame. Your lips parted but nothing came out.

“You know what we do to traitors? We punish them.”

“Stop, she had nothing to do with the police, Bucky.”

“Well, dalin’, how would I know? And since I don’t want to mess up your pretty face, she has to deal with your punishment.” His grip on her throat tightened, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh and he slammed her pelvin into the edge of the desk making Lana yelp in pain.

“You know I fucked her, right? I took her innocence right here.” With a thump Lana’s chest hit the desk and Bucky bend her over. “Just like this.”

“No, no, no, stop.” Your voice barely audible and you wanted to cover your mouth but the men held your arms to the sides of your body tightly. Your heart pounded against your chest so vigorously you thought that it would bruise your ribs.

Bucky lifted Lana’s skirt and her sobs filled the room, but none of the men standing payed her pain any mind, watching the scene unfold before them, not even flinching, batting an eye.

“Stop, please.” You pleaded and you were ready to go down to your knees, beg for forgiveness.

Bucky’s face lit up at your words, looking directly into your eyes. “Say that again.” He closed his eyes, groaning over Lana’s cries. He exposed Lana even further, lifting the skirt over her back, showing her cotton panties underneath. From the corner of your eye you saw one of the men, blond hair and blue eyes, lick his lips.

Bucky’s eyes opened and you sunk down until your knees hit the wooden floor, but underneath your skin the wood felt as if you were kneeling on glass for him. “Please.” You begged.

“Alright, no problem. But I would’ve liked to fuck her one last time, she cried so pretty with my dick in her cunt.” His low, morbid chuckle filled your ears. “I have something better in mind.”

There wasn’t time. No time could’ve prepared you to register what you witnessed. With a quick snap and a loud crack, Lana’s legs softened, her body relaxed against the table. The life she had left her eyes, her body numb.

Your jaw slacked, but realization didn’t hit. It couldn’t be true. A sinister silence fell and Lana’s body with it, sliding off the desk, but you couldn’t hear the impact of her hitting the floor.

You were frozen in place, kneeling on the floor and something within you told you the truth, he had snapped her neck right in front of you, without remorse, without hesitation.

And it hit you once again.

You’ll never make it out alive.

[ next ]

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #dark!mcu #clair writes

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skeeter-110 · 3 years

Text

A Twist in the Tale (That’s as Old as Time)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. As punishment for his actions, the young prince is transformed into a monstrous beast by a mysterious enchantress. Only condition is if he can learn to love someone and earn their love in return, the curse will be lifted. The prince - now turned Beast - felt doomed for eternity; until he met a little boy with a heart of gold.

AKA: a Beauty and the Beast Irondad AU

Chapter One: Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.

And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart, and as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.

The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another - and earn their love in return - by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken.

If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?

* * *

Peter skipped on out of his home and straight into the village, smiling and greeting everyone he passed as the village town quickly became more and more alive.

"Good morning, Peter." The village baker greets as he brings his tray of rolls over to his bakery.

"Morning, Monsieur." Peter addresses, walking over with the baker.

"Where are you off to?" The baker asks.

"The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story about a beanstalk and an ogre and-" Peter excitedly begins to explain, only to be cut off.

"That's nice." The baker responds absentmindedly, clearly not hearing a word Peter was saying, before yelling. "Marie, the baguettes! Hurry up!"

Peter just shrugged before putting his book back in the basket he was carrying and continuing on his way; hopping on the back of someone's carriage to get to the bookshop faster.

Peter quickly ran into the shop, the bell above the door ringing and announcing his presence to the bookseller.

"Ah, Peter." The seller acknowledges.

"Good morning. I've come to return the book I've borrowed." Peter says, handing the seller the book he was carrying around.

"Finished already?" The seller questions, sounding a bit impressed.

"I couldn't put it down. Have you got anything new?" Peter asks as he climbs the ladder and begins scanning all of the books.

"Not since yesterday." The seller laughs.

"That's all right. I'll borrow... this one." Peter says, going and grabbing a familiar book off of the shelf and handing it to the seller.

"That one? But you've read it twice." The seller amusedly says.

"Well, it's my favorite. Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise." Peter excitedly says, swinging off of the ladder.

"If you like it all that much, it's yours." The seller offers, making Peter gasp.

"But, sir..." Peter goes to protest.

"I insist." The seller presses creating a huge smile on Peter's face.

"Well, thank you. Thank you very much." Peter expresses his gratitude, instantly opening up the book and reading as he began to walk home; completely oblivious to the man following him. That was until the man jumped right in front of him.

"Hello, Peter." The man greets.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Osborn." Peter responds, not even bothering to take his eyes off the book. Norman, not liking not having the attention on him at the moment, quickly swiped the book out of the boy's hands.

"Monsieur Osborn, may I have my book, please?" Peter asks, making Norman scoff before flipping through the book.

"How can you read this? There are no pictures." Norman scoffs.

"Well, some people use their imaginations." Peter retorts, Norman rolling his eyes at the prospect and throwing the book over his shoulder.

"Peter, it's about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things. Like working for me." Norman says.

Ever since Norman found out that the only reason the Parkers were able to earn money was by Peter making and selling different inventions, he's been all but begging Peter to work for him. And clearly, he refuses to take no as an answer.

"The whole town's talking about it. It's not right for a little boy to be reading fantasies all the time." Norman disapproves as Peter reached down and grabbed the book up off of the ground.

"Monsieur Osborn, you are positively primeval." Peter says, looking at Norman in confusion when the man looked proud of the dig.

"Why, thank you, Peter. Now, what do you say you and me take a walk over to my workshop and take a look at some of my work." Norman says, trying to pull Peter in the direction of his workshop.

"Maybe some other time." Peter says, pulling his arm out of Norman's grip when it seemed like the man wasn't going to be letting go anytime soon. "Please, Monsieur Osborn, I can't. I have to get home to help my Aunt. Goodbye." Peter bids farewell.

"That crazy old loon. She needs all the help she can get." Victor Von Doom, Norman's right-hand-man, says making both him and Norman laugh.

"Don't talk about my Aunt that way." Peter yells at them, making Norman sober up.

"Yeah! Don't talk about his Aunt that way." Norman whirls on Victor.

"My Aunt is not crazy. She's just old." Peter defends, his argument falling short when something in his kitchen exploded, making Peter run towards his house, completely ignoring the laughter that was in the background.

Peter quickly ran inside the house, coughing due to all of the smoke floating around in the air.

"Aunt May?" Peter calls out, still coughing and waving away all of the smoke.

"How on earth did that happen?" Aunt May grumbles, trying to free her leg from the wood and wires that it was trapped in.

"Are you alright, Aunt May?" Peter asks.

"I-I don't know what happened. I think I accidentally turned this contraption on." May says, pointing at Peter's recent invention that was sitting there in the middle of the house.

"I'm sorry. I'm about ready to give up on this hunk of junk." Peter huff, clearly disappointed with how slowly the new invention was coming together.

"You always say that." May tuts fondly.

"I mean it this time! I'll never get this boneheaded contraption to work!" Peter angrily says, making May cross her arms.

"Peter, watch your language." May chides, erasing Peter's look of anger and turning it into him looking fully reprimanded.

"Sorry, Aunt May." Peter mumbles out an apology.

"And you will get this to work." May encourages, taking Peter's face into her hands. "And it will win first prize at the fair tomorrow. And we won't have a thing to worry about this winter." May says, gently brushing Peter's cheeks with her thumbs.

"You really believe that?" Peter asks.

"I always have." May confirms, making Peter grin real big.

"Well, what are we waiting for? I'll have this thing fixed in no time." Peter exclaims, climb underneath the contraption. "Can you hand me that... the dog-legged clincher there." Peter asks May, the woman being quick to do so.

"So, did you have a good time out in town today?" May asks once Peter had his tool.

"I got a new book." Peter tells his aunt before tightening a few things. "Aunt May, do you think I'm odd?" Peter decides to ask.

"My nephew? Odd? Where would you get an idea like that?" May scoffs.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just that I'm not sure I fit in here. There's no one I really can talk to." Peter sighs.

"What about Norman? He seems like a nice fella, and he likes inventing things like you. He could be like your mentor." May says.

"Yeah, he seems nice, but he's actually rude and conceited and... oh, Aunt May, I would never want to work for someone who treats people so terribly." Peter tells his Aunt.

"Well, don't you worry, 'cause this invention you're working on is gonna be the start of a new life for us." May reassures as Peter rolls out from underneath the machine.

"I think that's done it. Now, let's give it a try." Peter says, pulling the lever and causing the machine to whistle and whir.

Both May and Peter stepped back a bit, covering their faces just in case the machine blew up. Thankfully, instead of blowing up, the machine began to do its intended purpose, swinging an ax down and chopping the log that was in front of it.

"It works!" May exclaims.

"It does?" Peter asks in shock, watching as the machine continued to chop wood. "It does!"

"You did it. You really did it." May proudly says, pulling Peter into a tight hug. "Hitch up Philippe, boy. I'm off to the fair!" May says, Peter quickly running out of the house and hitching their horse, Phillippe, to the carriage.

May quickly pack up as many supplies she needed for the travel before getting her coat and throwing it on while Peter took the invention and placed it in the ack of the carriage.

"I love you, Peter." May says as she comes outside, planting a kiss on Peter's forehead.

"I love you too, Aunt May." Peter repeats the sentiment.

"Take care while I'm gone." May says as she hops up onto Phillippe.

"Always." Peter responds, watching as his Aunt began to ride off down the road.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @joyful-soul-collector @lost-lunar-wolf @hatakehikari @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #fanfiction #beauty and the beast #kid peter parker #platonic love

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authoressofdarkness · 3 years

Text

Guide Me Safely To Shore (Chapter 4)

And then he’d apparently crashed through the side of Stark tower. Because this was the safe spot now, apparently, though he hadn’t consciously decided that. He hadn’t consciously decided anything, really. Instinct and subconscious had completely taken over. And apparently, they were still in control, because how the fuck else would he have ended up pulling Tony Stark into bed with him? Or begging him to stay?

Notes: Yeah, I’m still a dumb bitch who keeps forgetting to update here, so here is the link to this story on AO3, if you’re tired of waiting on me. Mind the warnings/rating, though.

Tony is so used to the way he wakes up screaming that he automatically assumes it’s him. So it takes a minute to process the facts; that yes, his heart is pounding; yes, he feels adrenaline, the familiar fight or flight reflex, coursing through him, but the pain, the memory of the nightmare, isn’t there. Just a warm body pressed up against him and breathing fast and-

Shit. It’s Peter.

He barely has a moment to register the fact that Peter is actually pressed up against him, that they’ve apparently gotten much closer through the night and that he frankly can’t believe the pressure of Peter’s body against his hadn’t fed into his own night terrors or caused him to wake up at all. But then Peter gasps and jerks in his arms again and he refocuses on the problem at hand quickly.

He lets go of the omega when he jerks, realizing his eyes are open, pupils blown wide with fear — an effect of the dream more than seeing him, he hopes.

For a moment, they’re frozen, just staring at each other. Tony feels the nearly overwhelming urge to reach for him, but he doesn’t, not wanting to scare him even more.

Finally, Peter refocuses a little, eyes flickering around the room again. “Where- where am I? What did you do to me?”

He makes sure to keep his voice soft and steady, not wanting to start him more. “Nothing, Peter. Do you remember crashing in through the side of the tower?”

His eyes go even wider for a moment. “I- oh my God. I didn’t mean to, I-“

He holds up a hand. “It’s alright. It’s already fixed. But you crashed in and passed out right around the time I got to you. I just took care of your injuries and cleaned you up as best I could.”

Peter just stares at him. His eyes are almost comically wide as he seems to try to put all of the details together. He looks around the darkness of the room again, then glances down at himself. “So… now we’re in your room?” he asks, tentatively.

“No. We’re in yours.” Another confused look, so he elaborates. “I started setting up a room for you after… the other day. I intended to put you to bed tonight and let you rest, but you wouldn’t let me go.” He lifts up his hand, showing him the ring of bruises around his wrist and pillow marks from where Peter had clung to it and subsequently had been laying on it for hours.

Peter flushes after a moment. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he murmurs, unable to meet his eyes.

“Hey.” They’d talked this long without him running or freaking out, so he takes a chance, reaching out to tilt his chin up. “Don’t be. We should just… get some more rest. I’ll leave you be, if you want.” He moves to sit up.

“No!” Peter’s body slams up against his chest, surprising him. “I mean… stay,” he mumbles, voice muffled by Tony’s shirt. “Please. I just… it hurts, Mr. Stark. I… I need you to stay.”

Tony wraps his arms around him, gently but firmly, pulling him tight against him. “Then I’m not going anywhere.” It’s a relief, frankly, to be given permission not to, because Tony feels the exact same way. He hadn’t realized precisely how much their separation was hurting him until the seemingly massive hole in his chest felt filled waking up next to him.

Peter just nods against his chest, arms tight around his back. The weight of the smaller boy is comforting, nice and warm and solid against him. Any worries he has of hurting him just seem to melt away with him so comfortably wrapped around him like this. How could he possibly have a nightmare with this sweet thing holding him tight?

How could he possibly stay awake, seems like the better question. Within a few minutes, he’s out like a light again.

~~~

Peter doesn’t last long, either.

He doesn’t know what possessed him, honestly. He doesn’t remember consciously deciding to come to the tower. He barely remembers patrolling, just the getting hurt and the sensation of panic, Spidey sense telling him if he didn’t get out of that situation right now something horrible was going to happen and that he needed to get somewhere safe , and then-

And then he’d apparently crashed through the side of Stark tower. Because this was the safe spot now, apparently, though he hadn’t consciously decided that.

He hadn’t consciously decided anything, really. Instinct and subconscious had completely taken over.

And apparently, they were still in control, because how the fuck else would he have ended up pulling Tony Stark into bed with him? Or begging him to stay?

When he woke up screaming, the response had originally been at the visions of the nightmare, the green and orange still flashing behind his eyes. But the terror lingered when he realized that there was another villain entirely laying right beside him.

But then the initial panic faded, and his own body returned to betraying him. Panic and relief somehow flood him simultaneously when Stark says he’ll leave, and he opens his mouth to agree, though that’s not what comes out, and curse this fucking bond . Like the pain and physical illness that have tormented him this week haven’t been enough.

And yet there’s none of that now that Stark is pressed up beside him. In fact, he falls back asleep easier and rests better than he has in… years. Since Ben’s death, at least. Saying this week is hardly sufficient, considering he barely slept at all, and the trend of horrible sleep has been happening forever, now.

Surprisingly, though they sleep straight into the morning after that, Peter wakes up first.

For a long moment, before reality comes rushing back, it almost feels… good. One of Stark’s arms is securely wrapped around him, keeping him close, and Peter has nestled into his bare chest in his sleep. He’s warm and solid and his scent is just so nice up close like this. Relaxed and protective and strong and just pure alpha -

And shit. Peter's eyes flutter open and he moves to stretch automatically before realizing his legs are wrapped tightly around one of Stark's, hips pressed right up against him. He can feel Stark’s morning wood pressing against his stomach, almost terrifyingly large, and firm against him in a way he can’t ignore. And apparently, his body can’t, either, because when he shifts again, he can feel that he’s not entirely unaffected either. Between the effect of the bond and their time apart, and the fact that his body knows this is his soulmate, that he’s warm and comfortable and safe, even if his mind isn’t quite convinced of it… well, maybe it was only to be expected, but he is soaked. And scent aside, if the dampness he can feel on his thighs is any indication, there won’t be any hiding it when Stark wakes up. It isn’t exactly being contained.

Peter swallows thickly and lets out a shuddering breath. Fuck. What is he supposed to do now? Lay here, pretend to be asleep, and see what happens? Or does he risk trying to move and clean up before Stark wakes up, and maybe wake him sooner in the process?

Too late. He should have realized Stark would be a light sleeper. His squirming around had caused Stark to start to as well, and he must feel the same thing as Peter, because he hears his breath catch as the movement stops abruptly.

It’s silent for a moment, and Peter just hides his face in his chest, unsure what else to do. Then, after a moment, Stark’s voice: “Peter?”

Cheeks flaming, but knowing he’s been caught, Peter tilts his head just enough to peer up at him. “Uh…”

Stark’s face is only inches above his, close enough his warm breath causes the curls on Peter’s forehead to flutter. He can smell it, too, though even his morning breath isn’t that bad — and it’s completely overpowered by his scent, anyway, as it continues to grow stronger, arousal and curiosity and something that might even be nerves and resignation mixed in. To his horror, Peter’s seems to grow stronger in response as well — fear and arousal and growing emotions of curiosity and desire all in turmoil.

Again, the silence stretches for a long minute as they seem to search each other’s faces — Peter almost desperately, and Stark seeming to be calculated but undeniably curious.

Finally it’s Stark who breaks the silence. “I’m… I’ll leave,” he says shortly, looking away as he starts to sit up a little.

The words spark panic deep in his chest again, though he tries not to show it. Yeah, he’s terrified, that much is undeniable. But he doesn’t want to go back to feeling the way he did the week they were apart. He could barely function. And it’s going to be worse now that he’s been so close to him, he’s sure of it.

“You’re going to leave me like this?” The words come out quietly, tentative and scared, but he forces himself to speak all the same. “Is that my punishment for leaving?” Why does he sound so small? Why does he shrink in fear even talking to him out of the suit but still feel so safe laying beside him?

The nerves that feel like they’re gripping his chest are all the worse for the fact that he isn’t that far off from what could be true. He knows enough to know that the moment their marks changed color that he became Stark’s. Not even the law could come between them, and Stark is the law, now, so even more so than anyone else, he’s completely at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted to him and no one would care. Even if someone did, they couldn’t do anything.

And, yeah, the fact was, scared or not, he’d been an asshole the last time they met. Their fight and everything that occurred before they knew they were soulmates could be excused. But after… Stark is well within his legal rights to punish him. Even if there was someone to enforce them on him, they wouldn’t stop him.

Stark stops, letting out a little breath and looking down at him. Confusion is the prominent emotion in his scent, now, though the arousal is still undeniable. “No. I hadn’t intended to punish you for leaving. I’m sure the bond did enough of that,” he says gently. “I just meant… I won’t stay, if you don’t want me to. I’m not going to force you into anything just because our bodies respond naturally to each other.”

“Why not?” Now Peter is confused. And yeah, it’s a dangerous question, but he just doesn’t understand. Tony Stark is supposed to be a monster. This behavior, none of it, none of their encounters besides the first, add up to what he’d expected and been so afraid of. “I mean… you own me now, don’t you? You could do whatever you want.”

“I can do whatever I want. That doesn’t mean I have to. And it’s all the more reason I don’t need to rush it,” Stark answers. He sits up completely, running his hands through his hair, but doesn’t move to get out of the bed. Peter doesn’t move, letting his arms and legs fall away but staying there flat beside him. “And believe it or not, I don’t take pleasure in forcing anyone to do anything. Especially things that should be pleasurable for you.” He shakes his head. “Why does it matter? Do you want me to punish you?”

“No- I mean, I don’t know, I just expected it, I guess.” Peter looks away. “You have good reason to. Past aside, I haven’t been… good this past week.”

He sighs. “I let you walk away, Peter. I told you, I’ve no desire to keep you here against your will.” He pauses, glancing back down at him. “Why did you come back? Last night? And why didn’t you just come in the open balcony door, for God’s sake?”

Peter blushes again. He has no recollection of an open balcony door — or anything else, really. “I… I don’t really know. I was scared and kinda on autopilot. It just… happened. I didn’t even really realize it until this morning.”

“That’s the bond at work, then.” Stark gnaws on his bottom lip, eyes far away for a moment, and then refocuses. “You were scared and hurt. What happened?”

Peter swallows hard. He doesn’t like to talk about what he does as Spider-Man, and telling Tony Stark of all people… this morning really can’t get much crazier, can it? “I… do I have to tell you, sir?” he whispers, tentatively, avoiding his eyes.

Stark draws in a little breath. “No. Not right now, at least.” He tilts his head, looking down at him. “Look, I just… do you want me to leave you alone? I can let you get cleaned up and make breakfast and we can pretend this didn’t happen, at least the… messy part. I really just want to talk without you running away, Peter. Everything else is up to you right now.”

The right now doesn’t slip his notice, but for the first time, his stomach flips with something like excitement as the possessive words, instead of immediate fear. There’s a little of that, too, but not quite as intense as before. And it does make him feel better, a little bit, but…

He’s just never been so wet like this before. He can’t fathom being left like this. It aches for fuck’s sake, in a way he can’t even begin to place or imagine having to deal with for however long it takes.

He swallows again, audibly, throat clicking as he looks up at Stark, who’s still watching him intently, waiting for an answer. “I… we can talk, I promise, I just… I’m really wet, Mr. Stark,” he whispers, tentatively, face flushing red again.

The alpha’s pupils flare at the words, but he doesn’t immediately say anything, to his credit. “I can take care of that, Peter, if that’s what you really want. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. No punishment here, one way or the other.”

“Even though I deserve it?” He bites his lip.

He tilts his head a little. “Yes… unless you really want me to punish you.”

Peter looks away. “I don’t want you to be mad at me later,” he murmurs, unable to meet his eyes. He’s well aware of exactly how much trouble he’s caused. And getting it out of his head is going to happen… probably never. “I know I deserve it. I’ve done a lot of things. You have a lot of reason to be mad.”

Stark considers him. “I’m not mad. You do have a long list of discrepancies, though, I will admit, and I would like to discourage you from doing anything like that again… but, for right now, let’s shelve it, yeah? If me punishing you would make you feel better, then we can talk about it, after. Over breakfast. Yeah?”

Peter just nods. He can’t pretend he’s not still scared of it, of him, but he’s kept his word thus far, so he agrees. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t do that right now. Come on. You’re my soulmate. You can call me by my name.” He reaches out, tilting Peter’s head up towards him when he shakes his head, years of instincts telling him not to. “You can do it. Say my name, Peter .”

The way he says his name sends a tingle down Peter’s spine and tickles his wrist. He shivers and bites his lip nervously. “Tony…”

The alpha smiles a little. “Good boy, Peter. What am I?”

“Alpha…” Just saying it makes him relax a little. This is his alpha. His body knows that, if nothing else.

“Good boy. Now tell alpha what you want.” Those eyes, so bright and unnaturally blue, flash, pinning him to the bed with a look that makes his breath falter a moment.

“Alpha… want you to… um…” He stops, squirming and biting his lip. “Want you to help me. Please.”

“So polite,” the alpha cooes gently, smiling a little and running a hand down his chest. “Help you what, omega?”

Peter shivers again, at the touch and at the sound, the way Stark- Tony pronounces the word, like his tongue is stroking it, almost obscenely. The thought makes his face flush bright red. It only reminds him of his needs, and he can’t bring himself to say it. “Alpha, please… I… it’s dirty… you know…”

“I do know, Peter, but I want to hear you say it. Ask me for it, omega. Tell me what you want. There’s no shame in asking alpha to fulfill your needs.” He waits, looking down at him.

Peter gulps. Unable to look at him, he grabs the pillow Tony had slept on, hugging it to his chest and breathing in the lingering calm scent to steady himself and let him hide his face. Then he blurts, as quietly as possible, “Please, need you to touch my pussy, alpha.”

He hears Tony purr in response. “Good omega, telling alpha what you need. Touch your pussy, hm? Like this?” He feels the hand slide under the over large shirt he’s wearing, calloused and warm as it presses against the soaked material of his panties, cupping him. “Is this what you want?”

“No, sir, please…” Peter whines into the pillow. Of course an alpha like Tony Stark would want to tease, want the control and to make him tell him everything when he’s undoubtedly smart enough to figure it out.

“Please, what, then, omega?” Tony’s eyes are on him, he can feel it, but he doesn’t look at him, even as the fingers stroke over the wet material, tracing the line of his slit, and his hips squirm in response. “You want me to take them off? You asked for touch, not skin on skin. You want alpha to finger you, is that it?”

Peter whines again. He doesn’t want to say no and risk Tony stopping, but that’s not what he really wants. “I- if you want, but I…”

“Yes…?” he prompts. “What do you want, Peter? Tell your alpha. If it’s not my fingers…”

“Don’ wanna say it…” Peter whines, hiding his face in the pillow. He hates to admit that this whole thing is making him so much wetter, even if it’s frustrating.

“That’s okay. I’ll just sit here and play with this while I wait, hm?” He feels two fingers pinch his little clit through the panties, rolling it between them.

“Ah!” Peter’s back tries to arch off the bed, but the other hand is there, just above his hips and splayed across his stomach, stopping him. “Oh sir, please, ugh- I just- just want your tongue!”

It stops, and the hands lift away. “Oh, my tongue touching you? You could’ve just said so, sweetheart.” Something warm and soft pressed against his thigh — a kiss. Then hands are at his hips, peeling the panties down and off, and a moment later, on the inside of his sticky thighs, pushing them open. Peter bends his legs automatically, but doesn’t look up.

He feels the bed shifting as Tony gets in position, and his breath hitches, but he still doesn’t lift his face from the pillow. His hips twitch a little as the first warm breath of air touches his inner thigh, and he holds his breath, but then — nothing.

Tony’s voice a moment later explains why. “Peter. If I wanted to not see those pretty eyes, I’d have blindfolded you. Can you look at me?”

Peter jolts at the words, the idea of being blindfolded apparently going straight to his core if the rush of slick is any indication. He doesn’t really have much access to porn, as it’s considered distasteful for omegas, though all of them have to touch themselves occasionally, if they don’t have an alpha by the time they start their heats. Still, of course he’s had fantasies, and he’s heard of it, though he hasn’t expected it to be such a turn on right now. They always scared him more than anything.

Still, he lifts his face from the pillow, nervously biting his lip as he looks down at him. Tony’s eyes are a deep blue, dark with arousal, face just inches from where he wants him most.

Holding eye contact, Tony kisses the inside of his thigh, making him shiver. He smirks. “Is this what you want? You want my tongue in your little pussy?”

Peter’s breath hitches. “Yes, alpha, please ,” he breathes.

Tony flashes a dangerous grin, and then he’s leaning down, and oh , fuck- conscious thought goes immediately out the window. The way the alpha’s tongue feels, touching him there , and he’s all wet and so sensitive, and fuck. It’s so different from touching himself with his fingers to get through his heat.

Tony’s tongue is wet, in a different way from his slick, and the way it feels, is just so different from the press of a finger; it’s firm but soft, longer than his own fingers but not Tony’s, from what he’s seen, and God suddenly he can’t wait to find out how those feel, thick but flexible and wet but warm and oh fuck the way it just felt on his clit-

“Alpha!” Peter keens, unable to help himself. The words are torn between a moan and a sob. It’s just too overwhelming for him. Of course he’s had an orgasm before, but it’s never come close to feeling like this, and he’s not even cumming yet. His legs shake around the alpha’s head as his hips start to squirm instinctively from the intensity. “Please, alpha, please !”

All he gets in response is a growl that goes straight through him, and then hands wrapping around his hips, pinning him in place. He can’t help the moan that tears out of him again at the realization that he can’t move now and the feeling as the warm tongue keeps moving, teasing him for what seems like ever and lapping up all of his slick before going up and up and just attacking his little bud relentlessly. He barely tolerates a minute of it before he’s cumming, crying out loudly, hopelessly overstimulated with tears streaming down his face.

He must dissociate for a minute, drifting in the pleasure, because when he comes back to, Tony is sitting beside him, gently wiping him down with a warm washcloth; first his face, then between his legs and down them, touch so light so not to hurt where he’s still sensitive. He’s shushing him gently, too, murmuring something, but his hearing hasn’t come completely back online yet for him to understand. It takes a moment for it to, but he slowly tunes in to what the alpha is saying.

“-alright, yes, see, all clean now… nice and clean… breathe for me, Peter, and calm down some, hm?” He seems to realize suddenly that Peter’s eyes have refocused and he’s actually listening, and he stops. “There you are. Are you alright? You dropped off there after you came.”

Peter blushes a little. “Yeah, I, uh… overstimulation. It happens a lot.”

“Does it, now?” Tony sounds bemused, like he’s trying not to laugh at him.

Peter blushes deeper. “Not- like that. I just… my senses are dialed high all the time. If I get too much sensory input of any kind I can just kinda… power down for a minute or two.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Interesting. I didn’t know that,” he says, sounding actually surprised.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” he murmurs, cheeks still red as he moves to get up.

“I guess so,” Tony agrees. He stands up behind him. “Would you like to go get some food?”

Peter glances back at him, then looks around the room, humming a little. The mention of food has his stomach growling. He hasn’t eaten in hours, which means his stomach is… severely unhappy with him. Even if it wasn’t, he’d probably have to agree. They can’t avoid talking forever, especially after… that.

“Uh… yeah. Food would be nice. I just… can I get some pants, first?”

Tony blinks, like he hadn’t considered it. “Oh yeah. There’s some clothes in the dressers that will fit you. Go ahead and get in something comfy. I’ll just... wait outside.” He walks to the door, stepping out and closing it behind him with only a cursory look back.

Peter moves slowly to the nearest dresser, gnawing on his bottom lip. This room is larger and so much more grandiose and furnished than he’s used to, so it takes him a minute to find what he needs. In the end, he manages to find some clean underwear and a pair of pants. He keeps the alpha’s shirt on. He’s not cold enough to want something heavier and it smells good.

When he’s done, he stands there for a minute, soaking it in — and psyching himself up, to an extent. There’s no going back, now, but he can still be nervous, right? He doesn’t know whether it’s really reasonable or not, now, but he still is.

Oh well. It’s only going to get worse if he doesn’t face it. And the idea of leaving again now is too painful to even consider.

With these thoughts in mind, he makes his way to the door. Slowly, so slowly, bracing himself for the deep dive, he opens the door.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

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lilana163 · 3 years

Text

Prologue: Reunited// James Potter

Aurora Black loved her cousins she would kill, hurt, or die for them you name it. Sirius and Aurora Black were the same through and through both blood traitors, a disgrace to the family name, both abused until they could no longer see the light, and both faced the most troubles that came with being a Black, both were disowned when they decided to run away from their family at the age of fifteen. The difference between the two was that Aurora can't just be selfish and leave her loved ones behind, so when she heard of Sirius leaving behind Regulus she couldn't go without taking her baby cousin. Aurora wouldn't leave Regulus for the life of her, she packed the youngest Blacks bag and dragged the boy out of 12 Grimmauld place, ending with three Blacks being disowned.

Aurora and Narcissa Black, you will never see one without the other those two girls lived and breathed for each other nothing could separate them, not even their prejudiced family, their different beliefs in blood purity, not the Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry, nothing because in the end, they will always pick each other no matter what. So when Aurora Potter née Black died the Halloween of 1981 Narcissa felt broken, to say she was sad would be an understatement she lost herself, she lost her other half, she lost the person she could count on for anything.

The Marauders, Messrs Moony, Rory, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs a group of five who started their unbreakable friendship during their first year on the Hogwarts express in the compartment that will forever be theirs. Why is it when something happens it's always those fives? all were keen on embarrassing each other any moment they got, or cause havoc around Hogwarts earning themselves detentions every other day. But their friendship ran deep more than anyone could imagine, they were their own little family, four brothers and a sister who would go to the ends of the earth for the other, if one killed you could count on the others to help hide the body, so when the betrayal of their own led to the death of the others it was a shock to the wizarding world.

James Potter and Aurora Black might have been best friends but that didn't mean they weren't on each other nerves twenty-four-seven, actually Aurora Black never really did anything to annoy the Potter boy, except for the multiple rejections she sent to her best friend who constantly asked her out. That day in their first year when Sirius Black introduced Aurora Black to James Potter he fell for the raven-haired girl, he feel hard, the Gryffindor boy didn't glance at any girl unless it was Aurora Black. He knew, he knew that one day she'll be his and he hers, well he was already hers and James Potter made that quite clear to the Hogwarts staff and students. Aurora Black was the one for him, the only girl that he'll ever drop down on one knee for. Aurora Black was a stubborn girl she wouldn't admit to loving Potter for the life of her, she only realised her feelings towards her best friend in the fifth year because of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, her son. The emerald-eyed girl never knew the difference between platonic love and the romantic one so she was utterly confused for four years when she got jealous seeing many girls drooling over James Potter, she wouldn't admit her jealousy though the raven-haired girl was too prideful, even when she learned that it was not just platonic love and that she would marry James Potter, even have a kid with the guy.

Abuse, abuse was something Aurora Black thought was normal until she meet a family like the Potters, Mr and Mrs Potter never screamed crucio at the top of their lungs because their son broke a vase, they never screamed crucio if James looked at a muggle-born or was seen talking with one. Aurora Black wished she could say the same, but no, she couldn't say the same because if she even dared do any of those things she would earn herself a slap across the cheek from Druella and be at the other end of Cygnus wand when he screamed crucio, Aurora took every hit and spell her father and mother could throw at her, she wasn't strong at first but after a while she got used to the pain, numb, numb was what she felt when the cruciatus curse hit her for the hundredth time, maybe even more than a hundred, the girl had a tendency to take her sister's punishments as well. Most of the time the foolish girl volunteered for a punishment if it meant that Bella, Andy, and Cissy wouldn't have to.

Bellatrix Black was thirteen years old when she almost felt the pain from the cruciatus curse, Aurora Black was four years old when she felt the pain casted upon a witch who was hit with the word crucio. Even at the age of four she didn't regret the agonising pain if it meant that her sister didn't have to feel it, at four years old was when she decided that she would take any punishment her sisters were given, and that was a promise.

Her sisters couldn't say the same though, Bellatrix and Andromeda weren't brave enough to step up and take a punishment for their little sister, Narcissa had though, Narcissa jumped in front of the cruciatus curse after it had been pointed towards her sister for two minutes, Narcissa jumped in many times for her sister but was usually thrown out of the way by Aurora who hated hearing the blood wrenching screams of her other half. Narcissa soon stopped after a while when Aurora would yell at her afterwards, what Aurora didn't understand was that Narcissa couldn't handle her sisters screams of pain just how she couldn't handle the screams that came from Narcissa's mouth when she took the curses for her.

When Aurora was sorted into Gryffindor it tore the four sisters relationship apart, Bella no longer spoke a word to her sister, Andy would pull her aside to talk secretly, and Narcissa stayed by her sister's side showcasing the love she had for her sister each time she got too. The broken sisterhood still didn't stop the love that ran through the Black sister's blood whether any would admit it or not, still, they all loved each other, all still wished that everything was how it once was when they ran through the meadows chasing after butterflies. When Aurora Potter was found dead alongside her husband, all sisters grieved, Bella hated her younger sisters way of life but she still couldn't prevent herself from letting out loud cries when she sat alone in a room, Cissy became depressed and couldn't tend to her own son's needs for a long period of time, it was so bad that the twin broke down each time seeing Harry Potter, recognising the same emerald eyes her dear sister once had, Andy faked a smile, she had no tears to cry, she cried that Halloween night till the next morning and that was it, she didn't let herself cry but instead put up a fake smile for her niece who she now needed to care for.

Harry Potter the boy who lived, the boy who only had pictures and the voice of his mother telling him that his parents loved him, the boy who only had his aunt Cissy, auntie Andy, uncle Ted, and cousin Dora. Only four people who cared for him, and he was grateful that he was left with some kind of family.

Pictures, pictures were all Harry had, he had pictures of his mother and father in their years at Hogwarts, he loved re-watching the pictures play on and on, saying goodnight to each photo once the moon shined bright. Harry Potter hated Peter Pettigrew, he was the reason he no longer had parents, so he made sure that his hate for Peter Pettigrew was visible and shined bright just like Sirius who light up when Harry looked up at the night sky.

The whole great hall sat peacefully until loud laughs and shouts could be heard from down the corridor, everyone seemed to hear the loud noises and turned to the door where the loud yells got nearer, only when her old nickname was yelled had Minerva dropped her spoon and ran to the door to see if the yells did belong to the voices she heard so long ago.

" Oi, you lot get back here, detention all of you," Filch yelled looking down at his know purple cat.

" I didn't even do anything," yelled the calm voice of Alice as she was dragged down the corridors by Frank who ran behind Sirius Black who held his cousin Aurora on his back.

" We better hide, Minnie is probably stomping her way towards us," James laughed turning back at his friends who all glared at the boy.

" I am not getting detention because Potter and the Black duo decided to change the stupid fur of a stupid cat!" Lily yelled at Sirius, James, and Aurora who burst out in laughter at the redhead whose face now matched her hair.

" Lily is scary when she mad," Regulus mumbled to Remus backing away from the redhead.

" Sorry Lils, I love you!" Aurora pouted towards her best friend who glared at her.

" Wormy, watch out for that Rave-" but before Aurora could finish Petter had already bumped into a blonde Ravenclaw, Aurora and James were the first to laugh following along with Remus and Sirius who laughed at how ugly their sisters laugh sounded.

#black family #marauders #fan fiction #harry potter #prolouge #james potter

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alkali-is-sleeping · 3 years

Text

The Dog Star 2

[cw: some shouting, anger, could be triggering for some]

If my little brother — a Death Eater who made Walburga, our mother very proud — had not gotten himself killed at the hands of the Dark Lord, I most likely would not have inherited my family’s home. Twelve Grimmauld Place loomed below us. The House of Black had never been welcoming, but I needed to make this Hari's home; its needed to welcome him.

I revved again as we made our descent, careful to make sure that Hari was still safe as we landed.

But there was a shadowy figure at the door. I wrapped Hari with my jacket, separating his sleepy head from what may lay ahead, panicking at the thought that he may be taken from me, or worse...

I neared cautiously, I daren’t say fearfully, my life had overflown with it for too long and I needed my courage more than ever now. The closer I got, the more I became certain that this was someone I knew, but the pressing fog in my head made it impossible for me to say who until —

Fearful amber eyes turned to me, lowered on the slowish breathing lump in my jacket and glistened under the light of the street lamps and the stars — I was named after the brightest one — and the no longer full moon.

Remus teared up more and more the closer I drew. He reached his hand out, once I was near enough, as if to touch Hari, but retracted it just as quickly, thinking better if it.

I did not want to let go of the baby. He was a lifeline then, keeping my head over water, stopping me from drowning in the grief and the mess and the truth and —

Remus had always been the best at gauging my emotion, my confusion radiating to him perhaps, permeating his ever calm demeanor, telling him that my hands and this baby were, at least for now, surgically attached. He tapped his wand to the door causing it to clunk painfully through the soundless night, and pushed it for us all to get in.

He lit the fire in the drawing room, all the candles and lamps and eventually took to standing in a far corner of the room staring at sleeping Hari, occasionally wiping his eyes with his tatty jumper sleeve.

“W-why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the Secret Keeper?” I started at the sound; it was the first voice I’d heard all night aside from Hari’s cooing and babbling.

I lifted my eyes to Remus’s; red and bloodshot, just like mine probably.

“Forgive me... we didn’t think we could trust you... Voldemort had so much he could have offered you in exchange for...” I gulped. The mistake I had made, it cost my best friend and his wife their lives and I could hardly bring my self to telling Remus.

“I went to Peter’s hiding place,” I continued, “I was supposed to check if he was still ok, but he was gone. No struggle, nothing to suggest he left against his will even... it was my idea to make him Secret Keeper...” I whispered the last bit, tears rolling down my own cheeks, landing on Hari’s little blanket.

Remus hurried next to me, wrapping his arms around me and the baby, his tears mingling with mine.

“No one blames you,Sirius. Peter, well he...”

“Talentless rat,” my voice filled with anger suddenly, burning and smoking just like the Potters’ cottage... “Must have been his proudest moment, selling out his friends and their baby son...” I sobbed drily. “Lily was pregnant again... she and James told me last week, while you were recovering from the moon. They were going to tell you, once you were better and... and...” I trailed off. I didn’t want to stop talking, not when there we’re still so many truths wanting to get out, squirming and rioting in my stomach. I wanted to let them all out, to talk and talk until this was all a distant memory. But Remus’s eyes. His eyes were wide and they had stopped leaking. They were staring at me and for a second — perhaps it was my own paranoid mind, perhaps I imagined the contempt — he did blame me.

I think he was going to say something else before the fire had glowered iridescent green. We both took out our wands and and stood abruptly, Remus in front of me, me covering Hari. Ready for the worst.

A purple wizard’s hat, followed by a great mass of flowing silver-white hair which hid a benevolent old face and then the rest of the purple clad body. Dumbledore.

"I thought I might find you all here." His voice, a seemingly perpetual tone of casual amusement, irked me. My best friends were dead and he had the nerve to stand in my house and tell me, matter-of-factly, he knew he'd find me here? "I'd asked Hagrid earlier tonight to bring young Hari to me," he said, sitting, uninvited, on the nearest armchair. I was shooting daggers at him, but he seemed not to care, looking only between Remus and the baby I held. "But by the time he got there, the baby was gone, taken, the locals told him, by a man in a leather jacket and a flying motorbike... I knew, instantly of course, that his godfather must have taken him to safety."

I shifted my feet uncomfortably and redistributed Hari's weight in my arms. Why was Dumbledore here? What did he want?

I looked at Remus, who was in turn looking at Dumbledore, who was finally looking at me.

"I'm not sorry," i said, chin lifted in the airin defiance, daring him to make me apologise for having gone against his will.

"No one is asking you to be bu--"

"And I am not giving him to you."

My interuption was punished by silence, broken only by a dry cough from Remus. Dumbledore's eyes, bright moonstone, penetrating to the depths of my soul...

"Sirius, from what I gather, as Hari's guardian, you wannt what is best for him. However, you do not seem to have the full measure of things," Dumbledor was now making a dome with his hands, leaning forward on his seat. "I have good reason to believe thathis mother's sacrifice, Lily'sbloodshed for her son, has formed an unpenetrable protection on Hari. This is little understood magic, magic which is the sole reason Hari got away from Voldemort's attack with only a scar."

It was his turn to shoot me daggers; he most likely didnt mean it, but his gaze made me want to run and run. I didn't want to hear about what really happened, I'd seen enough, endured enought, I did not want anymore.

But he did not care, he kept talking, telling me everything, feeding me more and more dark, worm like truths.

"This is why i believe Hari needs to live with his aunt and uncle, blood relations of Lily's." I stared.

"WHAT?!" I bellowed, unable to control the sudden influx of anger bubbling over the surface. Hari woke at the sound, fussing and sqirming. remus made to take him from my grip, but I pushed him away, making him nearly-stumble back,eyes wide.

I rocked the baby slowly, allowing him to ease back to sleep.

Instead, I took to a menacing whisper; "You mean to send him to live with Muggles? People who dont even know him? Did you know Lily never wanted him to meet Petunia and..." I struggled for a name, "Whats-his-face? You want to send him to a place where, perhaps for most of his life, he won't know who he is or where he came from? A-and can't ypu imagine what that'd do to him? That no one will have bothered to tell him about his parents?" I panted as if I had shouted; I said all of that in one angry breath.

"I suppose I'm an easier book to read than I imagined." He was wiping his glasses with the hem of his amethyst robes and, my, did I want to throw stones at him just then, to watch him and his stupid, calm face, shatter into a million pieces, leaving only his delicate, half-moon glasses.

"I'm his godfather. I was the one James and Lily appointed as his guardian if they..." I couldn't say it. Maybe tomorrow could wake up, take some Fire Whiskey down to drink with James as we laugh loudly, like we did in schoool, before the war, laugh about the pathetic dream I'm having...

"Isn't... isn't there some magic in that?" I pleaded, finally defeated perhaps. Dumbledore paced the room twice round, Remus' eyes on him the whole time while i closed mine and imagined James grin, full of laughter and love and... life.

"Perhaps... But more than anything, I think I am to trust the Potters' judgement and their own trust in you, for now. I will decide if this is really a good choice after I have gathered enough information. Until then, you are not to leave this house under any circumstances. Not until I have good reason to believe he will be magically protected from teh Death Eaters out to avenge their fallen Master. And, I am also to understand, given that you are both here, that Peter Pettigrew was the spy the Order had so many whispers about, correct? You are not to search for him either, as I am sure you might be tempted to."

Remus and I just nodded deftly. I could not have cared less about this sentence at Grimmauld Place, though the fleeting urge to go after Peter, to throttle him and rip him limb from limb, did possess me for seconds. But Hari was just so much more important to me, and every second with him was precious, like little glittering pearls gathering in my hands.

"That concludes my bussiness here, and my welcome has been long over stayed, so I shall leave you to it." He Dissaparated.

The next moments all blurred into one,and i cannot say how, by sunrise; the pale greenish orange promisisng a cold, summer's morning, we found ourselves laying in the guest bed, Hari between us, still fast asleep. The both of us staring into space, our pillows damp and salty.

Despite the growing sunlight, Sleep's teder fingers caught up to me...

[A/N: gods this one was long, im sorry it took so long to post, ill try to be faster with chapter 3 (which mind you is longer still than this). i hope dumbledore moral ambiguity shows, dont worry if it doesnt, it really will further on. hope you enjoy and thanx for reading!!]

#sirius black #remus lupin #harry james potter #indian harry potter #padfoot #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #voldemort #hp fanfic

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fantasticstoryteller · 4 years

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Kingdoms ch. 14

General Osborn, or Norman, as Peter and Wade called him, knocked politely before entering the High Priest’s quarters—which was more than the queen had. Peter opened the door and let him into the room—a higher quality version of the acolyte rooms with a larger bed, more floor space between the bed, clothes chest, and table, and lots of bookcases filled with both books and scrolls—and the general looked around. Mostly at Wade.

Wade gave a wave. “I’m still alive and still here,” he said happily.

“Good. If anything had happened to you we would have had a civil war.”

Peter frowned. “A civil war?” he asked. “But the country hasn’t been as peaceful as it is within its borders in generations.”

“Peter,” the general said firmly, “everyone loves you.”

“Of course. I am High Priest,” Peter said, clearly confused. He had the same love and respect that any representative of the Goddess had.

Wade and Norman exchanged a look. Peter frowned. He didn’t think he was overlooking anything…

“I heard,” Norman said as he settled into one of the chairs, “that Spot has found a spider to court.”

“Courting seems to have failed,” Wade said.

“I don’t expect that will stop him from trying until he either succeeds or the feral spider gets another mate. She must be nearing her fertility period with the way Spot was acting.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his graying ginger hair. “I don’t how a rider spider even became feral,” he muttered.

Peter returned the frown as he went to the bed and dropped down beside Wade. The alpha leaned closer and pulled Peter to his side, and Peter obligingly curled up there. “We know how rider spiders become feral,” he said grimly. “The hard part will be to find the breeder.”

“And once again, I’m lost in the forest,” Wade complained as he brought up a hand to gently run it through Peter’s hair. “How does a rider spider become feral?”

Peter sighed and leaned into the touch. “Most of the spiders in Arachne occur in the wild and tend to just sort of—cohabitate with humans,” Peter explained. “Rider spiders are bred. And one of the things that rider spiders need most of all, is touch.” He felt more than saw Wade nod and hoped he was remembering the encounter in the barn shortly after they arrived. “When a spider is touch starved too long—it goes feral.”

“It is an abomination and a crime against our Merciful Goddess,” said Norman coldly. “The spiders are Her gifts to the humans of Arachne and anyone who allows such a sacrilege to happen doesn’t deserve to live.”

“General,” Peter said reminding the alpha of his rank, “we’ve had this discussion.”

“You can’t rehabilitate people like that High Priest,” Norman snapped. He hadn’t forgotten.

Peter supposed it couldn't be helped. The two of them had very different views on capital punishment. Norman believed that killing people helped provide an example for the public, something for them to see as an outcome to be avoided no matter what. Peter believed that throwing a human in a cell for two or three years with minimal human contact would show a person exactly how much the poor spider had suffered. Norman believed that Peter’s views were cruel and unusual. Peter believed execution was excessive.

Wade surprised both of them with a low, throaty chuckle. “It is so weird to see the two of you like this,” he said with honest amusement. “You both look like cats that got wet on a dry day, just insulted.” He chuckled again.

Peter felt himself relaxing and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the general shook his head at the other alpha. “Before I forget,” he said, “congratulations on your entry into the priesthood.”

“What?” Peter wasn’t certain which of them spoke; maybe both of them had.

Norman merely grinned and gave them a half-salute. “When the scout reported to Her Majesty about the success of the mission, Ambassador Nathan tried to force her to send Wade to them as soon as he arrived here.” Peter felt a low, almost inaudible growl in Wade’s chest. “Yes, well, Her Majesty took it about as well as you are now and said that you are now an acolyte being sponsored by the High Priest of Arachne.”

“Probably the only thing that she could have said to stop a diplomatic incident,” mused Peter thoughtfully. He ran through the best options; when someone was officially accepted into the priesthood, the temple sent a recompense to the family who lost a productive member. Most frequently it was food, sometimes it was help—especially if the family really needed a helping pair of hands that they didn’t need to feed. What would be a good thing for the temple to send to the king of a (hopefully) allied nation? “What’s going to happen to those horses we took from the Ajax army?” Peter asked as his mind raced.

Harry had decreed that the horses that had belonged to the invaders were now, by rights, property of the Arachnid army. Since those horses had shortened the travel time needed by mounting most of the people from Reaper, no one had complained—but they still presented a problem, now that people were in Arachne. Arachnids had no need of horses—rider spiders more than filled the need.

“Well, half of them are being sent with the Morphio delegation as thanks for their help,” Norman said.

“Can the temple have the other half? To send to the Reaper King?”

“As recompense?” asked Norman, clearly floored.

“It’s traditional,” Peter said. “It validates Queen Mary Jane’s claims. And with blessings from four different goddesses, Wade certainly belongs in the temple.”

“What?” asked Wade shocked. Norman just stared at Peter for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Very well,” Norman said. “I will leave the two of you to—to discuss things.” He got up and left.

Peter took one of Wade’s hands, interlacing their fingers together, and made sure the attached arm was wrapped around his shoulder so he could anchor Wade. “When we first rescued you,” he said slowly, “you were—badly injured.”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #omegaverse

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just-some-gt-trash · 4 years

Text

24.-Unhappy

The prompt list was made by @hiddendreamer67

Prince and the pauper au

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Roman shook the bars of the cage, as if that would suddenly free them “I can’t believe I was so stupid to get captured again” he said, sitting next to Thomas “and I’m sorry you’re stuck like this too”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re okay... I hope Patton is too though”

“Patton?” Asked Roman confused.

Thomas sighed “I made a growth potion for Patton and asked him to take your place while I found out what was really happening, but since Dee knows you’re here and not up in the castle... I don’t think he’s going to be able to keep the lie anymore”

“That explains why everyone was so worried about the wedding, and why Virgil hadn’t heard of Paton for days” said Roman

”Virgil?” Asked Thomas looking at the prince ”Who's that?”

Roman looked at the distance ”he's another borrower I met in town, he lives with Patton and got me confused with him when we met, he was so stubborn that I had to explain what happened several times, he helped me once he half believed me”

Thomas smirked as he listened how Roman talked about the borrower “It seem you made a new friend”

“Maybe more than a friend...” thought Roman, he was about to say it but there was something stoping him.

The humans turned their sight to the boarder of the table when a small clanking noise could be heard, there was a fishing hook stuck on the wood, some seconds passed and they could see someone climbing to the top.

“Virgil!” Roman stood up and ran to the door of cage “I’m so happy to see you!”

Virgil finished climbing and took his hook “seems the prince became the damsel in distress” he smirked and walked to the door.

“How did you find us?”

The borrower grabbed his hook and stuck it in the lock “I had to follow the kid” he turned to see Roman “I just couldn’t let anything happen to you”

They looked at each other’s eyes for a while before the prince turned to the lock “are you sure you know how to do it?”

“No” Virgil sighed and started to move the hook around “But I can try and hope it will work”

The borrower kept moving the end of the hook inside of the lock, a small crack could be heard and the lock opened, Virgil smiled and took it off before opening the door.

As soon as he was free, Roman threw himself to Virgil’s arms “Thank you, thank you! I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t appeared”

Virgil blushed slightly and hugged back “You would have figured something out eventually”

“I guess” Roman broke the hug “but it’s better with you here” he would have been unhappy if he never saw Virgil again.

The borrower blushed even more and looked aside “Well, what’s the plan now?”

“We have to get to Roman’s room”said Thomas, getting out of the cage and standing next to them “the growth potion I made must still be there, we’ll use it to grow back to normal and stop Dee before he can try something”

“Can you take us here Virge?” Asked Roman, Virgil nodded in response, he took his hook out of the lock and stuck it near the edge.

“I’ll go down first, just slide down the rope, I can catch you in case you fall” he said and then slid down to the floor, followed by Roman and finally Thomas, the three of them went back into the walls and headed to Roman’s room afterwards.

Patton had finally stopped crying as he sand the las part of Logan’s song to himself, he hugged his knees tighter, everything was over now, he was back to being a borrower, not getting out of the dungeon any time soon, and definitely not going back with Logan.

He kept wondering how much the prince hated him now, and that was the only thing he could think about, even if he knew everything else was wrong too, he had failed Thomas, he had failed Roman, he did everything wrong and now he had to pay for his mistakes.

A guard walked to he one that was protecting his cage “The king wants to see the prisoner”

“I’m sorry but without direct orders from him or his advisor I’m afraid I can’t-“

“The king told me personally, he believes jail is not enough punishment for it and wants to take care of that as soon as possible” the guard interrupted loudly, speaking securely and with authority, making the other guard afraid.

He nodded “understood, you can take it” he moved aside for the other one to grab the cage.

“Very well” he said before turning and walking away.

Patton sunk deeper in the corner, was king Emile that mad at him? What was a worse punishment than the eternity locked away? Was he going to?..

His thoughts were interrupted when the door of the cage was opened, the guard’s metal gloved hand getting closer, the borrower’s breath got accelerated as he tried to back away, he was grab in a surprisingly gentle grip and was brought out of the cage, the guard rose him closer to his face.

“L-Let me go!” Patton was at the boarder of crying again as he struggled in the human’s grip.

“Shh, hey it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you” the guard took of his helmet, revealing a familiar face, Logan “see, it’s just me”

Patton stared at his eyes, those same eyes that made him crazy “L-Logan? What are you doing here?”

The prince smiled “I‘m helping you to get out of here”

“But why?... I-I lied to you...”

“Maybe” Logan used one of the fingers of his free hand to dry one of the tears that managed to get out of the borrower’s eyes “But you had a good reason, you don’t deserve to be trapped here”

Patton smiled and leaned into the touch “so you’re not mad?”

“Not at all”’ Logan returned the smile “and I need your help”

“M-My help? How can I be any help?” Asked Patton confused.

“I have reasons to suspect Dee is planning something, and I can tell you too, we have to work together if we want to stop him” said Logan.

Patton nodded “Thomas said he had something to do with Roman’s disappearance, and then he disappeared too...”

“The we’ll have to find them” Logan cupped Patton closer to his chest, he looked around making sure there was no one else before he started to walk out of the dungeons.

Patton leaned on the prince’s chest, hearing his heartbeat, he looked up at him while he walked “My name’s Patton by the way”

Logan smiled down to him “It’s nice to officially meet you Patton”

The borrower smiled and cuddled on his loved one hand’s, no longer unhappy knowing Logan didn’t hate him.

Dee knocked in the throne’s room door, going inside when he was allowed too “good evening your majesty, I hope you’re feeling better after everything that happened in the morning”

Emile wiped the few tears that remained on his yes “Yes I’m just... worried for my son, and the kingdom... without Remy... without Remy’s alliance, we don’t have a way to en the kingdom’s problems”

“I’m sorry to contradict you, but I might know a way to get rid of our problems”

The king looked at his advisor confused “And what wold that be?”

Dee smirked and walked around the room “since my son was born, I had to find a way to maintain him, I managed to collect a quite big amount of gold, enough to invest it and help with the economical issues of the whole kingdom”

“And I suppose you’d want something in exchange for it?”

The advisor reached into the inner pocket of his cape “The only thing I want in order to help you” he said turning to see the king where he was sitting and kneeling in front of him, extending a ring towards him “it’s for you to marry me”

Emile was speechless, he had not expected that at all, there was only one person he wanted to marry and it definitely wasn’t Dee, but if this will help his kingdom... “I will”

Dee smiled widely, his plan was finally moving forward, he grabbed the king’s hand and put him the ring.

Emile just looked as he did it, he was going to end the economical problems, without mattering if he was unhappy.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@snekky-boi

@brain-deadx0

@agentblackkat

@notkolaidoscop

@tiny-peter-rabbit

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asongofmarvelanddc · 5 years

Text

Baby Spider

PAIRING: Peter Parker X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2135

WARNINGS: Just, like...labour...

SUMMARY: You're nine months pregnant, married to Spider-Man who's trying his very best to help you get through excruciating labour as well as enjoy your twenty-fourth birthday.

A/N: This is a repost due to my blog being deleted, please reblog to signal boost!

"Happy Twenty-Fourth!”

After dating for three years, you and Peter got engaged when you were nineteen - way too young. You got married six months ago and planned to have a long honeymoon in some tropical country from the money you’d saved up.

Of course, all those plans went out the window when you got 'food poisoning' and had to go to hospital. One pregnan- actually, six pregnancy tests later, and there was no denying that you were three months pregnant. Suddenly, all you and Peter could think about was finding an apartment or house near a good school, discussing how you were going to take care of a baby while going to work; who would stay home when? All those questions that you never thought you'd ask so early in a marriage.

All that led to this. You had told Peter that you didn't want to celebrate your birthday this year, being nine months pregnant and all, but here he was, standing over you with a small chocolate cake that had a candle in the middle.

You sighed and fell back on the bed with a groan, but he simply laughed and balanced the cake on your swollen belly, emphasising just how . gigantic it was. You shot him a glare and kept the plate on the bed before propping yourself up on your elbows with a frown.

"Oh, come on!" he said and playfully pinched your cheek, "Cheer up! It's your birthday!”

You gave him a cold look and said, "Everything hurts, Peter.”

His smile softened as he sat beside you and began to softly rub your belly.

"I've been in labour for the last twelve hours and I've yet to have my waters break,” you complained as you rested your head on his shoulder, "I just want this baby to come out. Can’t we just go to the hospital?"

Peter rubbed his hand soothingly up and down your back. "You know we can't go yet," he said and pressed a kiss on the top of your head, "Your contractions are still fifteen minutes apart.”

With a groan, you stood up, one arm on your lower back and the other on your stomach. For a moment, you regretted not asking Peter to tape this whole process. It could’ve been the baby's punishment when he or she was fifteen and stubborn. You'd sit him or her down and force them to watch the video and see the pain you went through to bring them into the world.

That would be hilarious, you thought, Maybe I’m not mature enough to have a child.

"Where are you going?", Peter asked as he stood up and held out his arm for support.

"Midwife said I should walk around the house, eat or watch a nice movie during this stage", you said as he guided you to the kitchen, "Might as well make a sandwich.”

You grabbed two slices of bread and a plate before turning to Peter and asking him to pass the peanut butter. When he handed it to you along with two bananas, you smiled at him and said, "You know me too well."

He chuckled as he walked away to the living room, "Or maybe I just know pregnant you too well.”

Prior to this pregnancy, you absolutely despised peanut butter. Just the smell of it was enough to make gag, but now all of a sudden, you wanted it on everything. On grapes, in a sandwich - you even made a sauce out of it once and ate it with rice. But to be fair, Peter said he liked that one so...

You sat in front of the telly with Peter to watch your favourite show together. Twenty minutes and three contractions later, you found yourself staring down at your stomach, attempting to look at your legs.

"Peter?", you called and he hummed in response as he turned to look at you, "I think I'm peeing myself.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he asked, "Do you need help getting cleaned up...?"

"No, Peter, you don't understand. I'm still peeing,” youexplained, pointing at the couch which was now going dark under you, "I am literally having a wee right now.”

When it didn't stop after twenty seconds, Peter made his conclusion: "Babe, I think your waters just broke.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and stared down at your stomach. Waters broke. That means more frequent and intense contractions. Huh. In the movies it looks like a whole bucket of water's pouring out of your vagina. I had nine months to get ready for this pain, so why do I feel so fucking unprepared? Shit.

Your eyes filled with alarm as you said to Peter, "Get the doctor on the phone, and my hot water bottle ready now".

__________________________

I. Am. In. So. Much. PAIN.

You were on your knees now by the bed with your arms resting on top of it. A groan escaped your lips every time you fought to suppress the pain from each contraction, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

Peter rubbed circles on your back between grabbing your hospital stuff as you cursed for no particular reason other than the fact that you were in excruciating pain.

God, I love this man.

He managed to change you into a skirt and tank top, tie your hair up and give you a mini bath with a warm wet towel as soon as the contractions became seven minutes apart. Between contractions, you turned to Peter with pleading eyes.

"Please, let's just go to hospital", you said, your voice breaking as you rested your head in his lap.

You groaned as another contraction hit. Five minutes apart. A minute later, when the contraction had passed, Peter left to get the hospital bag. He had never seen you in so much pain and utter defeat. All of a sudden things had become serious, and he was terrified for you.

When he returned, he had a rather large looking backpack on his back.

"Where's the hospital bag?" you asked in confusion and he pointed to his back.

"I put everything in a backpack a couple of days ago,” he said, smiling proudly, “You’ll be thanking me for that in a minute.”

"And why's that?" you asked weakly and in one fell swoop, you were in his arms with him smiling down at you.

"What are you doing, Pete?" you asked. He shrugged and replied with a simple, "You're in labour. You are not walking down those stairs."

Your heart filled with glee at those words. You had moved into this apartment when you found out that you were pregnant. It was in your price range, you had friendly neighbours, it wasn't too far from work and there was a really good school nearby. The one problem with it was that it was on the fifth floor -t he highest floor - of an apartment complex. You almost didn't take it, but what were the odds of finding an apartment in New York at this price that wasn't filled with weirdos or drug dealers?

You had been dreading having to walk down those stairs since you hit the eight month mark of the pregnancy and now Peter was telling you that you wouldn't have to do it.

Your right arm circled his waist as he carried you out of the apartment and locked the door. You gripped the bannister as for support as Peter shot a web to the ceiling just above the gap between the winding staircase. You looked down from the comfort of his arms and sucked in a shaky breath.

"Pete? Are you sure that web can hold us?" you asked as you looked up at the thin web.

"Yup."

"Can you carry me?" you asked this time, seriously doubting that Peter could support your weight any longer.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I'm Spider-Man", he laughed and jumped.

He lowered you quickly, but gently, down with the web and when you felt your feet on the ground, you knew that meeting Peter all those years ago was a blessing in disguise.

You clutched Peter's arms for support when another contraction hit.

"We're not web-slinging to the hospital too, are we?" you asked, your eyes still closed after the contraction passed. He simply chuckled and pulled out a set of car keys.

He’d gotten a rental a few days earlier not wanting to have to hail a cab while you were in labour. In the car, Peter called the hospital to let them know that you were on the way.

You sat in the back seat with your head leaning against the passenger seat. During the whole thirty minute journey, every time Peter asked how you were doing, you would reply either with a grunt or a quiet "Okay." You’d hit the not-in-the-mood-to-talk phase.

__________________________

By the time you were in the hospital room, your contractions were three minutes apart and you were fully dilated. You’d been like that for about ten minutes before you were told to push.

You thought the contractions hurt like a bitch. Nah, pushing took the cake! You always thought you'd be the ‘lying-on-my-back-with-legs-up’ kinda girl, but it turns out, you were a hands-and-knees kinda girl. Basically you looked like you were about to do doggy (which, now that you thought about it, is probably what got you into this in the first place) only with a lot more sweat and a whole lot of pain.

Your hair matted to your face due to sweat and you let out a loud groan as you pushed again. You didn't want to scream. You really didn't want to scream...

But you also wanted to scream. You wanted to scream so fucking bad.

But you were not going to.

Peter who had been standing beside you the whole time and encouraging you suddenly came into view.

"Go on, baby, you can do it," he smiled as he brushed your hair out of your face again. Suddenly, you'd had enough of his voice.

"Peter, you're really sweet and I love you, but if you don't shut the hell up I will break your nose," you groaned as you pushed again.

You heard the woman standing behind you say, "The head's out.”

Okay. One more push. You can do this.

You gripped the bed so tight that your knuckles felt like they were breaking skin as you pushed once more.

The baby was out. The baby was out. As soon as it was out, the pain dissolved and you let out a cry of relief and collapsed onto the bed.

"It's a girl,” you heard Peter whisper which prompted you to groggily open your eyes.

You saw the nurse suction the baby's mouth and nose before she placed her on your stomach. When Peter snipped the umbilical cord, the nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket and you immediately reached for her.

When the baby was placed in your arms and you laid eyes on her for the first time, you could've sworn that you felt your heart swell with pride. Your eyes softened as you smiled at your little girl.

She was utterly beautiful. You'd never seen anything more perfect in your life. You wanted to hold on to this moment forever.

You looked up at Peter and saw the same expression that was no doubt on your face, on his. You knew he was feeling exactly what you were.

"We did it,” he whispered with a soft smile on his lips.

You smiled as you handed him your baby girl, “Yes, we did.”

You had her all of twenty minutes when they took her to get her cleaned up before she was brought back to you. When everyone had left and it was just you two in the room, Peter sat beside you on the bed. You immediately placed your hand over his with a loving smile as he kissed your hand. You rested your head on his shoulder when he leaned back into the pillows.

"God, I'm so glad I emptied my stomach last night,” you broke the silence with a reference to poop. Classy. You felt Peter's chest rumble as laughter erupted from his lips. You'd had this long standing fear that you would poop while you were pushing, so when the due date came closer, you made sure to do one every night.

"You know what I realised?" Peter asked and you raised a brow, "You and our daughter share a birthday.”

You smiled at the thought, too tired to respond, and felt Peter kiss the top of your head and whisper, "Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Happy birthday to me.

#peter parker #spider man #spiderman #spider-man #the amazing spider-man #peter parker x reader #spider man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

little ballerina (8/16)

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 2,330

summary: After The Snap was reversed and the world went back to normal, Natasha Romanov had one request of her team: to infiltrate and destroy the Red Room.

chapter warnings: Swearing, I think????

masterlist

a/n: I think that this is one of my favorite chapters so far. I love me some cheddar on top of my angst, ya dig? Also I fucking love pet names but I can only see Peter using them when he's a little older, and I feel like "baby" and "sweetheart" don't fit him? Anyway!!! Let me know what you think!

You awoke in a sweat, your heart pounding against your ribs. This nightmare had been the worst one yet. As time had gone on and you had gotten to know the Avengers, your nightmares sometimes featured them. More often than not, they were dying. The most common one, other than the nightmare of Madame B nailing your pointe shoes to your feet, was Natasha and Peter dying. You had to sit by and watch as they were tortured and killed, and there was nothing you could do about it. Other times, like tonight, you dreamed that you were the one that had to kill them.

You felt so helpless.

Your throat felt tight as you looked around your room. You needed something. You needed... You needed Peter. Scrambling to find your phone, you felt a sigh of relief as you found the new iPhone still resting on the end of your bed where you had thrown it earlier.

What you were surprised to find, was the eight missed calls from one Peter B. Parker.

Without thinking, you immediately called him back. Your eyes caught sight of the clock beside your bed and you almost immediately hung up. It was two in the morning. Peter would hopefully be sleeping, and you didn't want to wake him up.

But before you could hit the end call button, Peter's groggy voice came over the phone.

"Hello?"

Your heart lurched in your chest as you tried to hold back a sob. "Peter?"

There was a shuffling in the background, which you assumed was the boy sitting up in his bed. "Y/N? What, uh... What, What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I... I..." You didn't know how to answer that. You wanted to tell him that you were okay, that you had just seen his missed calls when you had woken up to get water and called him without thinking about what time it was. You didn't want him to worry about you. But on the other hand, you needed him. You had gotten so used to his presence that on the first night he was gone, you panicked.

Peter was quiet for a long time as he waited for you to answer. Finally, he said, "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to talk to me, okay?"

Rubbing your eyes, you realized with a start that you were crying. "I-I can't."

"Why not, angel?"

You pulled your knees up to your chest as you held the phone tightly in your hand. You absentmindedly picked at the rosy pink polish on your toes that you had painted just two days before. "Because I don't w-want you to worry about me."

You could hear the smile in his voice as he coaxed you, "Y/N, I'm going to worry whether you tell me or not. So wouldn't it be better to tell me what's going on so I can help you through it?"

"Stop using logic on me," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you tried to stop crying.

"Was it a nightmare?"

You didn't respond, biting your lip harshly.

He must've taken it as a 'yes,' because he continued, "Which one was it this time?"

You hesitated to tell him, but knew that he wasn't going to give in until you told him exactly what was going on. "I was in the Red Room. You and Natasha were there." He had gone still on the other end of the call. You couldn't hear any movement what-so-ever, only the sound of his soft breathing. He was completely focused on you. "She... She made me kill you." You broke down into sobs as you admitted it.

There was a long sigh on Peter's end. "Angel..."

"Peter, what if it happens one day?" You interrupted, a panic rising in your chest. You stood up and began to pace around your room. You could tell he was about to interrupt you, so you continued before he could, "Wh-What if the Red Room comes for me a-and they get me and they make me kill you?"

"That won't happen."

"How do you know?" You snapped, the hand that wasn't on the phone balling into a fist. "I've killed my friends before, Peter." You almost spat out his name. You were so angry, but not at him. You were angry at yourself for being such a monster.

Only a monster would kill their friends.

Tony's speech about them not punishing you for doing what you had to survive flew out of your head, completely forgotten. That was then, this was now. You didn't want to believe that you could kill Peter or Natasha or any of the Avengers. You didn't even want to believe that you could kill Wanda, as much as she pissed you off. But you had also never thought you could kill those girls in the Red Room, and you had. You had murdered the girl that took care of you, that treated you like your own sister.

"You're lashing out."

Fuck.

You heard the creak of Peter's bed through the phone, soft as it was, as he stood up. "You're lashing out because you're scared. I know. But, But you need to take a step back and realize that what you're feeling is a product of anxiety and the, the trauma you were put through." Your hands shook as he paused to take a breath. "Angel, are you there?"

"Yeah."

He sighed in relief, taking his time to answer. "I'm going to count to eight. I want you to breathe in for that amount of time, and then I'm going to count to four. You're going to hold it. Then, I'm going to count to four again, and you're going to exhale. Then we'll repeat it until you're calmer." A pause. "Can, can you do that for me, angel?"

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn't exactly see you. "Yes. Fine. I can do that."

"Good. Ready?" After confirming that you were, he began to count just as he said he would. You followed his instructions and you were surprised to find that you began to not feel quite so panicked. You could feel your heart rate slowing down as it became more steady. Peter repeated it four more times, his voice still raspy from sleep. His voice sounded like smooth honey. No wonder the exercise thing was working. "Better?"

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you said, "Yeah. I'm better. Thank you."

"Of course." You laid back on the soft comforter, staring at the empty ceiling. "Now, I've told you this before and I'm sure I'll tell you it many times before you believe me, but what, what happened in the Red Room isn't, uh, isn't your fault. You either had to kill the other girls or be killed yourself. You did what you had to in order to survive. That doesn't make you a killer, it makes, it makes you a victim."

"Peter, can we put stars on my ceiling?"

He seemed taken aback by your sudden change of subject. "What?"

Your e/c eyes were still focused on the empty ceiling above you. "I had stars on my ceiling when I was a kid. I just... I really want them." You felt almost ashamed to admit it. You shouldn't have been asking for favors, for one. The Avengers had rescued you. You already owed them a huge debt that you wouldn't ever be able to repay. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I—"

"Y/N, of course we can." His voice had gone soft, no louder than a whisper. "I, I was just surprised that you asked. But I'll bring stars to put on your ceiling next time I visit, okay, angel?"

"Okay," you murmured, running your fingers over the comforter. The bed was still one of the softest things you had ever felt. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

There was mirth in Peter's voice as a small laugh fell from his lips. "Part of, Part of the reason I got Tony to get you a phone was so you could call me when you needed me. Even if it's in the middle of the night."

"Still," you groaned as you sat up, leaning back on your elbows. "You hardly get enough sleep as it is. I shouldn't be disrupting that."

"Y/N, I'm going to be there for you no matter what time it is, okay?"

Oh.

Peter seemed to realize just what he said as he let out an awkward laugh. "So, Sorry, I, uh... Yeah."

"Don't apologize, Peter. It means a lot." You slid off the bed and walked over to the window that formed the back wall of your room, gazing up at the moon. "There's a full moon tonight."

"I know."

"What?" You smiled, a little confused at his answer.

"I'm sitting out on my fire escape," he explained. "Ned crashed on the couch in my room during the movie we were watching and I didn't wanna wake him up."

You sat there for a long time, looking up at the moon and the stars. It made you feel closer to him somehow, knowing that he was looking at the same sky. "I miss you." Your voice cracked softly as you leaned your forehead against the cool glass. Your cheeks were a soft red, a warmth in your chest that you couldn't explain. You had grown so fond of Peter. Whenever something good or bad happened, he was the first person you wanted to tell. You could listen to him talk for hours about whatever science thing he was working on. It was fascinating, watching him be so passionate.

"Y/N, it's been less than a day."

"Would you rather me not miss you at all?"

"You only miss me bringing you food," he snorted, causing you to roll your eyes.

"I do not!"

"But you can't deny that it's a factor."

He had you there. "If this is what I get for trying to be nice to you, then I'm never doing it again," you retorted, getting a little embarrassed. You had put yourself out there, in a way, and him laughing just felt like he was rejecting you.

"I, I miss you, too, angel."

Ah, there it was. A soft smile graced your lips as you wrapped your arms around yourself. "When are you coming home?" The compound didn't feel the same without him, and it was really fucking with you, even if it had technically been less than a day. You could hear him crawling back inside his window as he grunted a little. Smirking, you fought back a smartass comment about him having trouble crawling in a window, despite swinging from webs all the time like it was nothing.

You heard a door quietly shutting, which you assumed meant that he had left his bedroom to go to another part of his apartment. "Well, I'm trying to come back every weekend. Sometimes it'll be every other weekend, because I have to visit Aunt May in New York, but this weekend, I'll be at the compound."

"Really?" You felt giddiness run through you at the thought of him coming home so soon. "I thought you wouldn't be coming home for a month or something like that!"

Peter laughed at the amount of excitement you were exuding. "Nah. I, I couldn't leave you alone that long, now could I?"

You pouted a little as you crawled back into your bed. "You left me here to deal with Wanda alone. What if she kills me before you come back?"

"Angel, I promise you that Wanda isn't as bad as you think. You, You two, uh... You two just got off on a bad foot," he said, causing you to frown. "And don't you have Natasha, Tony, and Bruce in there with you at all times, too?"

Shoving your face into one of the many pillows, you snapped, "Stop it. I'm trying to guilt you into coming home early."

Peter's laughter filled your ears, and you felt like your heart could burst. You could listen to him laugh all day and never need anything more. "Y/N, I'm coming home Friday."

"What time?"

You could hear the smirk in his voice, as he was clearly amused by your impatience to see him. "Happy is picking me up after my last class at one. I'll be home by five, at the latest."

"You promise?" You asked quietly, wanting to make sure that he would actually be coming home. You didn't want him making empty promises, only for him to cancel last minute. You didn't want to be left disappointed and lonely after expecting him all week.

"I promise."

A yawn stopped you from responding, and he said, "I think, I think it's time for you to get back to bed."

"But, Peter—"

"'But, Peter' nothing. You need to sleep, angel." There was a soft click of a door in the background, letting you know that he had gone back to his room. "Because I'm only going to bed when you do."

Now that just wasn't fair. "Fine," you muttered, burrowing further under the covers. "But I'm not doing it because you told me to. I'm doing it because I want you to get to sleep. And I'm tired."

"That's my girl," he teased, the bed creaking as he crawled into his own bed, almost four hours away. "Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep?"

You hummed in response, closing your eyes as you felt the exhaustion beginning to creep in. Your body was sore from all the dancing you had done with Natasha that day, and you made a mental note to tell Peter about in the morning. You were too tired to do it right now. "Hey, Peter?"

"Yes, Y/N?"

You smiled a little as you felt sleep beginning to take over. "I like when you call me 'angel.'"

"Good, Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Peter."

#peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic

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hymn2000 · 4 years

Text

Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player - MCU AU Fanfic - C18

(Previously Ideal Confusion)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, family conflict, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 18 - So Much To Prove

Peter stirred uncomfortably, whimpering as he woke up. It was dark - too dark. He’d fallen asleep so quickly that he hadn’t even turned the night light on. He whimpered again, tears pricking his eyes, and became aware of someone’s arms round him.

“Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you”

Peter relaxed, somewhere between asleep and awake, pressing a hand against whoever was holding him, reassuring himself. He shifted slightly and slowly drifted back to sleep.

“Did I have a nightmare last night?” Peter asked Loki at breakfast.

“Surely you should know the answer to that one?” Loki said, putting his mug down.

“Well, I don’t always remember, especially when someone’s with me like you were”

Loki paused, quirking an eyebrow. “I didn’t go to you in the night, chick”

“Oh” Peter sat back, confused. “But then who..? Um...”

“Finish your toast. You don’t want to be late for school”

“I don’t know if I’m up to it”

“You are” he nodded at the door. “Blazer’s there when you need it”

Peter swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the car window.

“Did you and daddy talk last night?”

“That’s none of your business” Tony said abruptly. “Don’t be so nosey”

‘A definite yes’, Peter thought. He looked at Tony, trying to figure him out. He was rubbish at hiding things, but he also neglected to talk about things that were most important, so sometimes the full effect got lost.

“What are you staring at? You’re putting me off”

Peter shrugged and looked away. They were quiet until Tony parked up in front of the school.

“Try to have a normal day today, kid” Tony said.

“What happened yesterday wasn’t my fault”

“I never said it was. Just don’t have a repeat, alright?”

Peter pouted at him.

“Just be good, kid. Now go: you’re gonna be late”

“You’ve changed your tune”

Tony smacked his thigh, hard.

“OW! Dad!”

“Don’t be so cheeky. Now sling your hook”

Peter didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car, all but slamming the door behind him. He didn’t have high hopes for the day ahead.

Malaki was on everyone’s minds and lips. There were a lot of rumours, and some of them were pretty worrying. Unfortunately, some of them were true, but, having not heard anything more from Malaki since the day before, Peter wasn’t sure about all of them. He didn’t really want to think about it.

Not that he had much choice in the matter.

There were too many reminders. Almost everyone in the form had seen what had happened, and there were a lot of pale faces in the discussions. Peter turned round when the bell rang, looking at the conspicuously clean patch on the carpet, at Malaki’s empty seat - and Nigel’s too.

Flo rested a hand on Peter’s to get his attention.

“I think he’s gone and told the truth” she whispered. “I’m not entirely sure, though”

The door opened, making her jump, but it was just Ms Hathersage.

“Settle down, now!” she barked. “Well, well, well! It’s nice to see you all in one piece! Just about. How’s your head, Stark?”

Peter didn’t respond. He’d almost forgotten about his own injury. He probably would have done altogether if Loki hadn’t changed the dressing when he’d woken up. It seemed so insignificant, especially with Malaki in hospital.

Mr James’ practice room seemed like a refuge from the heavy stresses and talks of the morning.

“How’s your head?”

Peter shrugged.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Any news on your friend?”

Peter threw his bag down and plonked himself down at the piano, ignoring him. Mr James understood.

“Well, I’ve got some marking to do, so I’m taking this corner” he said, slinging his briefcase onto the little table. “It’s easier to focus in here. Less people knocking on the door, you see”

Peter nodded slightly, not really listening. He flexed his hands and tapped a few keys, not sure what to play. His head was all over the place: Malaki, Loki’s house search, leaving school, being Tony Stark’s biological son... He hadn’t even got his head around the first problem, let alone those that had followed. He didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to do about any of them. He didn’t really know how he felt about any of them either.

Well, he was worried about Malaki. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. What if it was serious and he had long-lasting problems? He didn’t even know how he was now. He wasn’t sure it was his place to text and try to find out. Malaki’s phone could be dead, for a start, or he might be indisposed. There was nothing he could do, anyway.

Leaving school was just a fact of life now. He hadn’t had much time to, but if he really thought about it, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to leave anymore. He didn’t have any control over that either.

Loki’s house search was more confusing. Peter still wasn’t sure why Loki had lied and said he’d been asked to go back. Sure, they kept in touch, but why not tell Tony the truth? As much as he’d enjoyed his sabbatical, Peter wasn’t convinced he’d actually leave. But, Loki was nothing if not unpredictable. Besides, he’d heard his outburst about his time in hospital. Maybe the stress of that memory and not being able to talk about it was getting too much for him. If it was, maybe Scotland really did beckon.

Some, everything was piling up, but those bloody DNA test results still felt like the biggest problem. Peter hadn’t had the television or radio on, or even checked his phone properly since the press release, but he could imagine all too well what was going off. He was still surprised no one had cornered him at the hospital about it. It wasn’t the press that bothered him, though. Not really. What got to him, was the massive uncertainty that came with learning that the past you thought you knew was nothing but a fabrication. Plus, there was the whole issue of Tony seeming furious at the results one minute, and acting like they’d never had them the next. AND, on top of that, Tony and Loki were at odds, and Tony seemed to have started smacking again. Peter hoped what happened just before Loki rang Marco was an isolated incident, but he couldn’t be sure. His leg had throbbed for a good ten minutes after he’d been struck in the car that morning. He didn’t like the feeling that Tony might be taking his frustrations out on him. Sure, Loki had mentioned he was seeing someone to work through his problems, but he couldn’t be sure. Tony wasn’t great at the whole opening up thing.

“That was energetic”

Peter looked round at Mr James.

“Energetic. But sad” Mr James said. “It was good. You’ve always been good at the classics”

Peter turned back to the piano. He’d just played from the list on the wall, half-hearted but heavy-handed. Still, even then, he felt better for it.

“Did you do any playing last night?”

Peter shook his head.

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Tired?”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re quiet today” Mr James came over and stood beside him. “What’s burning in there today? We can have a little chat, if you like?”

Peter froze, reassured himself that it was only his parents who always used ‘chat’ to mean he was in trouble, and breathed out. He shook his head slightly.

“Well, I’m in the corner if you change your mind” Mr James said, squeezing his shoulder and returning to his table.

Peter was quiet a moment longer, before resting his hands on the keys and starting to play. Calm and light at first, and then a few heavy notes mixed in. He got into the rhythm, and soon started humming along under his breath. He felt safe in the funny little room, piano at his mercy, Mr James quiet in the corner.

He grew immersed in the music, his humming become more pronounced, a type of mumble of almost-words. And...

“-Caesar's had your troubles, widows had to cry. While mercenaries in cloisters si--ng; And the king must diiiiieee”

God, it felt so good to sing without worrying what people might think.

“Some men are better slaying sailors. Take my word and go.. But tell the ostler that his name was; the very first they chose”

Somehow, he was thinking of other things as he played. Mainly about school, and about what people might think if they overheard this. Oddly... well, he didn’t care. ‘Let them hear’ he thought, hammering out the final notes. He paused a moment, catching his breath, still on the same train of thought.

;Well’ he thought. ‘If anyone’s listening, I’ll give them something to listen to’

“You can never know what it's like.. Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice.. And there's a cold and lonely light that shines from you.. You will wind up like the wreck you hide, behind that mask you use”

He played it heavy, a little slower, much more Rocketman than Too Low For Zero. Mr James looked up from his papers, watching closely.

“And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm-a coming back again.. Got a taste of love, in a simple way, and if you need to know while I'm still standin’ you just fade a-way..”

Mr James stood up, carefully, slowly, not wanting to interrupt. Not yet.

“Don't you know? I'm still standing better than I ever did! Lookin’ like a true survivor - feelin’ like a little kid. I'm still standin’ after all this time.. Picking up the pieces of my life, without you on my mind..”

Mr James put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and he stopped abruptly. He swallowed, hands still on the keys, and slowly looked up at him, biting the inside of his lip.

“How do you feel about breaking the rules?”

Breaking the rules though it was, it felt right with it being a teachers idea. However, that didn’t help at the end of the day. At first, he still felt brilliant - incredible, energised, on cloud nine - but then the butterflies were replaced with moths, fluttering replaced with thudding, and he felt sick with nerves.

It wasn’t like Tony was going to find out, and, honestly, it wasn’t as though he’d really done anything wrong - but his father was so unpredictable right now that anything seemed to be a possibility.

“Not a bad lot of work for a Wednesday afternoon” Mr James said. “See you tomorrow, Master Parker-Stark”

“Thanks, s-sir”

“No problem. Well, you’d better be going. Bye now!”

Peter went out to the carpark, praying that it would be Loki, or even Happy, waiting for him.

No such luck.

“You took your time” Tony grumbled as Peter climbed into the car.

“Mr James’ lesson ran over” Peter said, not untruthfully.

“Mm” Tony said, obviously not listening. “Your father wants to have a word when we get back”

“Oh... About Scotland?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not!” Peter scowled. “Well, what is it about, then?”

“You and me. And... this” he gestured between the two of them. “I think”

“What could he know that we don’t? We’ve got the results, and you don’t remember my mother”

“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

There was a short silence.

“...Dad?

Tony sighed irritably. “What?”

“Do you regret getting us tested?”

“Just put your headphones in, kid”

“But-”

“But nothing! Put your bloody headphones in or I’ll smack you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week, understand?!”

He could have been bluffing - but Peter didn’t want to take that risk.

Loki sat Tony and Peter down at the kitchen table, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“Is this going to take long?”

“It takes as long as it takes!” Loki snapped.

There was a pause. Peter looked down at his hands. Loki sighed, and placed a brown A4 envelope down on the table.

“I don’t want you to get angry at me because of this. I didn’t really register at the time, and I’d honestly forgotten until I saw it today”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Loki pushed the envelope towards Peter. “I think you should do this”

Peter hesitated. He didn’t like the feeling of them watching him, but he took the envelope nonetheless. It was thin, obviously not much to it. He slipped the piece of paper out of the envelope, turning it over and looking at it, reading it over. It all seemed pretty normal - aside from one thing.

“The birth certificate? I forgot you’d requested that. What’s the big deal?”

“Hand it to your father, Peter”

“Loki, I know what a birth certificate looks like. I don’t think-”

“Just read it, Tony”

Tony humoured him, taking the certificate from Peter. He glanced it over, and then stopped. His expression changed and there was silence as he set it down in the middle of the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained.

Peter swallowed hard, not that it helped. “What does it mean?”

Loki brought the certificate close, looking at the blank space where a father’s name should be.

“It means your mother knew”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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