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theold-ultraviolence · 1 month

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Silly-goofy-cursed NSFW Eddie Munson headcanons that nobody asked for but have been on my drafts for centuries, and rotating in my brain for much longer.

(REPOSTED. Warnings include: Eddie being silly and cursed during sex, gender neutral, but Eddie refers to reader as ‘my lady’ once. itty bitty hint of a piss kink but not really, panty stealing and sniffing, mentions of food involved during sex, in a sexy way but also in a disgusting way. If I missed anything else that might need a warning let me know!)

He once admits to you that he gets so overwhelmed when he's inside you that he has to run a mental countdown in his brain or else he's gonna cum in two seconds.

You tease him by going, 'like the count from Sesame Street? - and he goes, 'EXACTLY like that'

The next time you're doing it after he confesses, he starts counting out loud but imitates the count's voice; so he's on top of you, suddenly going, 'ONE, TWO, THREE, AH, AH AH!' which just makes you laugh. And in turn, just makes you cum harder because you're squeezing around him so hard from laughing.

You're laid there all sweaty and panting after three rounds, and he breaks that dreamy haze going, 'ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX ORGASMS, AH AH AH' and you wanna punch him in the face as you burst out laughing and shove him into the pillows.

And on the subject of laughter. One time he was being silly and made you laugh so hard that you nearly peed yourself on the bed - which just made him laugh harder, not helping your case at all.

You rushed to the bathroom just in time, but that dumbass followed you and watched you pee, and just kept laughing like a maniac, literally rolling on the floor.

But he low-key watched you feeling some type of way about how intimate the whole scene was.

You tease him about him having a piss kink which he ardently denies over and over, even if he blushes bright red when you bring it up. He doesn't really venture into that kink, but, once the two of you grow more intimate, he's totally unashamed about peeing in the shower while he's in there with you (this is inspired by that one scene with Adam Driver in Girls)

NOW on the subject of showers...he'll always join you, but when he doesn't, be it because of time restraints or what have you, he'll still burst into the room when you're showering, just to draw a giant dick on the fogged up mirror, for you to find.

Sometimes they're super detailed monster cocks. And he'll write silly messages, too.

He sometimes jokes that if he passes away before you (we're ignoring canon though) he'll haunt you by drawing dicks on everything, just as he did when he lived (so dramatic of him).

He'll randomly start to talk like a medieval knight, kneeling before you, with his arms extended to present you with a condom and going, 'my dear lady, I come bearing a tribute I've acquired amidst the hardships of my journeys'

You'll follow along out of amusement but it ends up in you two full-on roleplaying about him being a wounded knight who has returned to his lady after a long, arduous journey. The journey is him running to the pharmacy to buy the condoms mentioned above.

He refers to his dick as 'my little friend' sometimes. You can't take Al Pacino's scene in Scarface where he goes 'say hello to my little friend!' seriously anymore, because it reminds you of Eddie. You tell him that, and the next time you go down on your knees, he pulls out his dick and impersonates Al Pacino, grabbing his dick and poking you in your face going, 'SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!"

He's so cursed.

His favorite thing in the world is to tickle you until you're wheezing out laughing, and then taking advantage of you doubling over and clutching your tummy from laughing so hard to plunge his fingers inside of you with no warning - transforming your laughter into moans. He takes such pleasure in hearing your mind short-circuit for a second while you process the amusement and pleasure all at once.

He's totally the type to be smelling his fingers randomly during the day to see if he can still catch a whiff of your scent lingering on them. He's absolutely obsessed with the scent of your essence.

So obsessed that he has admitted to stealing your panties and keeping them close in his pocket during the day.

You asked if he's been stealing the clean ones or the ones from the laundry. Of course, it's the latter.

And when you're not home, he jerks off with your dirty panties pressed all over his face, taking deep inhales of them, licking and biting them as he strokes himself.

Also, the idea of him keeping a dirty Polaroid of you in his wallet is a classic, but once you move out with him, he's started to put those Polaroids (of you together, or just you alone) on your fridge. Never fails to bring a smile and a jolt of arousal in you, first thing in the morning when you're opening up the fridge in search of a carton of milk.

He's huge on after-sex pizza and wings, and eating it right there on the bed, with the grease from the back of the box staining the bed. And even after a full meal, he wants to fuck right after, never mind the grease on your face from all the cheese and sauce, or the bloated feeling that lingers after eating a giant meal. And can you even deny him?

This also applies to drive-thru Taco Bell which you eat right there in his van. (shoutout to @thembohux for inspiring this one). He's so gassy afterward that it should be disgusting as hell because the van becomes a biohazard environment, but again, can you deny him?

Another time involving food was when you spent a weekend getaway with him in a motel room. He woke up very early to bring breakfast in bed from a diner nearby. He wanted to be doting and cute by bringing in waffles, eggs, and fresh coffee to wake you up. It was all very sweet and loving until he started to get in the mood, just, by your mere presence.

As he always does.

You could literally be sitting there with bed hair, dark circles under your eyes while eating breakfast, and feeling like a zombie first thing in the morning and still, he'd get turned on by you.

That's how you ended up laying on your back (amidst the already messy sheets from the night before that were already too disgusting with dried-up bodily fluids) as Eddie poured the maple syrup from the waffles all over you, taking his sweet time and licking it up from your body. He didn't know maple syrup could be so delicious until it mixed with your juices.

You left that motel room blushing and feeling so bad for the poor maid who would have to clean that room. Eddie just jokes that she'll have to go in there with a biohazard suit on, and burn the sheets.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #headcanons #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn #my writing

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silassinclair · 2 years

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“You’re my Muse”

[Billy H. x Artistic Reader] 🎨

Summary: Y/n loves Billy’s face. He’s just so handsome and gorgeous and UGH. She loves holding his face and looking into his eyes, and Billy is just like, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF

Glam metal music played softly from Billy’s stereo. The volume was turned down more than his usual listening volume because his girlfriend Y/n was doodling in her sketchbook on his bed. He absolutely adored her. She was cute seven ways to sunday. Her cute little hobby of drawing, her love for bugs, but most importantly was her weird fascination for his face.

Weird because it was only his face. Her pages were full of realistic sketches of his face at many different angles and making many different expressions. He was flattered and never questioned it, but it got to the point where she would hold his face in her hands for long minutes at a time and just stare adoringly.

Billy loves her to the moon and back but he cannot help but feel… a little weirded out by her quirky behavior, not in a bad way of course. So he finally asks, “Hey baby?”

The sound of pencil on paper stops. “Yeah Billy?” Y/n asks and crawls over to him. He was seated on the floor against the bed she was on so she leaned down and put her cheek against his, another thing she did quite often.

“Not to sound mean.” He starts, “But I gotta ask you, what is with you and always being all over my face. I know that I’m handsome and attractive and the hottest guy ever but I can’t help but feel like you have a weird fascination for my face.” He says with a light grin.

An awkward pause fills the room. Even the song on the stereo was quieting down, playing it’s last part.

“Well uh.” Y/n say straight up and scratched her neck. She knew this day would come. After all personal space is important so of course her boyfriend would question her weird actions. “I just really like your face.”

Billy turned around with a quirked up eyebrow and a smirk. “Oh I know that babe. That’s why you’re all over me after all. But I wanna know more. Give me the sweet juicy details.” His thumb brushed against her hand that he had held in his.

“To put it simply, you’re my muse Billy.” She said with a smile. Her head tilted to the side to see Billy’s facial expression change from smugness to wonder.

“Your jawline is sharp, cheekbones are prominent, and your eyes,” Y/n gently takes hold of his face. His head is turned up as her fingers trace gently against his jaw. Billy is at a loss for words, no one has EVER said anything like this to him before.

“Your eyes are absolutely stunning. I could drown in that gorgeous blue color.” She places a small peck on the space between his eyes.

“And don’t get me started on your lips.” Her thumb traces the plump bottom lip. “They’re so smooth and plump. I just wanna kiss em all day.”

At this point Billy’s face was as red and flush as the crimson paint Y/n used in her artworks. The affection was almost overwhelming. His brain simply couldn’t process how someone so sweet, cute, and humble could adore him this much. He thought men were the ones who were supposed to fluster their girlfriends, but apparently it was the other way around right now.

“I love all of you.” Y/n whispered softly and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

In the blink of an eye Billy pounced and had Y/n pinned under his body. Her arms spread limply by her sides under the soft cushion of Billy’s mattress.

“Do you really mean that?” Billy said. His tone was like a whisper. Hope in his voice wishing it were true, but he knew it was too good to be true. “All that you said, you mean it?” His golden brown locks fluttered from side to side, framing his perfect face.

The girl reached a hand up to cup the jaw of her lover above. A smile painted her face. “I meant every word, love.” That petname for him had hime weak in the knees any time she said it, which was pretty rarely. Usually she’d just call him Billy, baby, or B.

Billy leant down and trapped her lips in a heated kiss. He never wanted tor leave this moment. In between kisses Y/n giggled, her arm’s wrapped around his neck lovingly.

“Aw? Is my sweet boyfriend flustered? Or do you just really like being praised and complimented?”

A growl escaped the depths of his throat. “How could I not be a blushin’ mess when you say shit like that?” His lips traced the shell of her ear. “God I don’t deserve you baby.” His whisper sent a shiver down her spine.

She smirked and batted her lashes, “Oh and that sexy voice of yours, I could listen to it all da-”

She was cut off with a kiss. Her boyfriend’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were on fire, his bottom lip twitching too much so he bit down on it.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll show you how much I love you more.”

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things fanfiction #fluff

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softpascalito · 4 months

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Raised on little light - 2003!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You don't have anywhere to go on Christmas Eve. Much less anyone to celebrate with. A neighbour down the street turns out to be your personal Christmas miracle.

Relationships: Joel Miller xF! Reader WC: 1500 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Forehead Kisses, First Kiss, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak Joel (The Last of Us), Christmas, Christmas Eve, Author needs therapy (and sleep), domestic abuse Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: hello loves. today is another sad one. please read the tags. the abuse is not very detailed but it's there. this fic is very personal to me and (partly) based on how i spent christmas last year. any comments are very appreciated. i'm sending you all all my love <3 also i wanna mention that this has similar tropes to a longer story idea im working on so feel free to let me know if you like the vibes of this and would like to read more :) title from the song northern attitude by noah kahan and hozier

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

for everyone who has spent christmas alone.

The worst part is the shouting.

You can ignore the passive-aggressive snides, mumbles that reach your ears in passing. You can ignore the absence of the feeling of safety. You have even learned to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach when you apply another layer of concealer.

But the shouting seems to follow you. No matter how many rooms you put in between them and you, the sounds crawl through the house, slipping under doors and into hiding nooks that you’ve long outgrown.

It makes you freeze in your tracks, every time it starts. You stand still for a moment, listening, trying to hear what it is about, how bad it seems. There is always the gnawing fear of them running out of words and turning to actions instead. And despite the fact that you’re a grown adult, that you’re technically not the helpless child you once were, it still scares you like nothing else does.

It’s exhausting to exist in a violent house.

You silently let the front door fall shut behind you, stumbling a little as you make your way to the street. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out into the night without a goal in mind. Just get out of the house.

It’s surprisingly cold for Austin and you draw your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders as you move down the sidewalk. The houses on your street are lit up with Christmas lights, stars dangling in windows, colorful fairy lights wrapped around fences, a lit up reindeer figurine a few houses over.

A truck drives by, the engine humming quietly, before it pulls into a driveway two houses ahead of you. When you pass the house with your head down, the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut makes you jump slightly.

The voice that follows doesn’t.

“That you?”

It only takes Joel a few strides until he’s in front of you, brown eyes searching your body for god knows what. There is a brown paper bag in his hand but you don’t dare lift your head higher to look at his face.

“Whatcha doing out here? Escaping the family gathering?” He jokes lamely, remembering the way he used to sneak off during the holidays if it got too overwhelming.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, trying to put on something resembling a smile. Either it doesn’t work or Joel is too smart to be fooled by it. Because he nods softly, bending his back a little to try and get a look at your face, “Can you look at me for a second, darlin’?”

Oh, he’s so not playing fair. He knows exactly what that nickname does to you, especially coming from him. And he’s shamelessly abusing that.

You swallow, hard and lift your head enough for the porch light to hit you. Joel’s face instantly changes. The somewhat cheerful, joking manner he’d been in a second ago is replaced by concern and something else. Something that almost seems like anger.

He drops the bags of groceries to the floor, bringing both hands up to cup your face. He’s mere inches away when he suddenly stills, eyes softening a bit, “Can I?”

You give a small nod and right away, he closes the distance, turning your head a little to get a better look at the black eye that is undoubtedly getting worse by the second. He should get some credit for not flinching away, you think, for not pretending not to see it like everyone else does.

“You put ice on it or anything?” Joel mutters, his gaze flying over the rest of your neck, clearly checking for more injuries. You barely have time to shake your head no before one hand is on your back, steering you back towards the Miller’s house. “We’ll get you patched up, okay?” Joel asks softly. When he sees your gaze, he adds, “Won’t take long, promise.”

The mood inside the living room could not reflect yours less. There is a bright tree by the window, colorful lights twinkling away. You’re barely inside when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and you stop in your tracks. Of course Sarah would be home. You’ve gotten to know her rather well this year, after she almost failed Biology last year and when Joel mentioned it in passing, you offered to help out.

You don’t plan on letting her see you like this. She’s smart, like her dad and your afraid that just like him, she’ll know instantly what’s going on.

Joel tugs on your sleeve, motioning for you to stay. Then he turns the corner, catching Sarah at the foot of the stairs before she can reach you. Her voice still carries through to you.

“Did you get the ice cream?” Joel chuckles softly, “I did, dessert is safe. Listen, I gotta- I mean, Santa’s gotta do some last minute preparations. You mind staying in your room for a bit? And no peeking.” The girl grumbles something under her breath but heads back upstairs and a moment later, you hear her door close, a small breath of relief escaping you at that.

Joel's head appears around the corner, “Come on. I’ve got some stuff in the kitchen.”

He pulls out a first aid kit, disinfecting your wound carefully before wrapping a few ice cubes into a towel and dabbing it against your cheek a few times before holding still. The cold immediately seems to work and you involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.

Joel smiles a bit, his hand still pressing the cool sensation against your skin, “That’s better, hm? Just don’t leave it on too long.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, bringing your own hand up to take the towel from him. There is a small moment, merely a few seconds, when your hand sneaks below his, your skin pressed against him, somehow fitting more perfectly than you ever couldve imagined. It feels even better than the ice.

Joel let go after a moment, taking a step back and turning to the kitchen that is messy with dinner preparations.

“She made you get ice cream?” You ask softly, hoping to steer the conversation into a somewhat pleasurable direction.

“Yeah, yeah, she did. You know how she is,” Joel smiles softly. It doesn’t last long. He clears his throat, glancing down at his feet.

“Listen, I know it ain’t my place. But this is not- it’s not normal. Not even close.”

“It is to them.”

Your voice is quiet. You don’t even want to say it. But something about Joel has always made you open up faster and more intensely than you have with anyone else, “It doesn’t happen that much.”

“Ain’t supposed to happen at all, darlin’,” he argues softly. His eyes fly to the window for a second. There’s a string of lights hung up in it as well. You think there’s not a single one at your house. You were raised on little light.

“We’re making dinner in a bit, Sarah’s pick, and Tommy can’t make it so we are one person short.”

You furrow your brows slightly, wondering for a moment why he is telling you about his dinner plans. But then- it washes over you.

“I couldn’t- I’m sure you have a lovely night planned and-”

“Won’t change if you’re there. It’ll still be a lovely night,” Joel says softly, nudging your foot with his. “Come on, let me- let me do this for you.”

You let him. There is dinner, luckily with no more questions about your slightly swollen face. Joel offers you some wine, lets Sarah pick a movie, pretends to hate that it’s some cheesy Christmas movie. You still catch him smiling at the screen throughout the film.

The teenager falls asleep halfway through and Joel gives you an apologetic look before he carries her to bed. When he comes back and sits down, his hand almost automatically finds your knee. Between the romantic movie and the second glass of wine, the atmosphere between you has changed.

“You know our door is always open, right? Sarah loves having you here.”

“Only Sarah?” You raise a brow, leaning into Joel’s broad form a little more and his eyes soften as he looks down on you, “You’ve had a long day. We shouldn’t add any more to that.”

“What if I want to?” Your face is hovering inches from his. You don’t remember even being this close to him, “Joel, please.”

He can’t resist your begging. He doesn’t think he could if he tried.

Christmas Eve brings you your first kiss with Joel. He runs his hands over your cheeks, always careful to avoid the bruise and even when you pull back to catch your breath, his mouth stays on your face, kissing your chin, your nose, your eyes.

He kisses your forehead an hour later when you’re wrapped into his sheets, after you’ve moaned and then cried immediately afterwards. He holds you through all of it, his voice barely a whisper to not wake Sarah.

“I like having you around too, darlin’.”

notes: thank you for reading. i love you <3

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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how would the fruity 4 be w a s/o who has anxiety/social anxiety

The Fruity Four With a Socially Anxious Partner

Steve Harrington

Steve doesn’t necessarily understand the whole social anxiety thing but he sees how it effects you and so is always willing to do whatever is needed to help you

I think he’d be the type to just hold your hand and whisper gently “it’s okay, it’s okay” whenever you get a bit overwhelmed

like he’ll squeeze and un-squeeze your hand and tell you just keep focused on that, keep focused on him, and to try and block out all the other stuff that’s overwhelming you

Steve does like to go out to parties and stuff, but he understands that it may set off your anxiety so he’s quite good about staying at your side the entire time and periodically checking in with you, and if you say you wanna leave then he never argues, just throws his jacket over you and walks you home

Eddie Munson

Eddie’s the kind to try and soothe your social anxiety by making you laugh and giving you the ‘who gives a fuck what other people think’ kind of argument

he’s just very good at distracting you with his own goofiness until all you’re focused on is him and your own giggles

he’ll also give you one or two of his rings to play with to keep yourself busy and distracted, and also to keep your hands busy if that’s the kind of thing you need

but if your anxiety is getting quite bad and none of that is working then he’s more than happy to just whisk you away from the situation completely

like if you’ve had a bad anxiety day or something he’ll just take you for a late night drive in his van where the only thing you have to think about is the wind coming through the window, the music on the radio, his hand on your thigh as he drives, just no stress and anxiety, just you and him

and on that last note may I recommend my own lil fic that’s basically along those lines, read it here

Robin Buckley

I love Robin so much but I feel like she’s the type to get stressed by your stress, so if you freak out then she freaks out whilst simultaneously trying to calm you down bless her

Robin’s a lil chaotic, that’s just what she’s like, but she tries her best when she’s with you to not actually do anything to draw attention to you or her

but she’s super attentive and she gets right on it whenever you tell her what you need, you just need to tell her! so if you need to be taken away from the crowd she’ll whisk you away quickly, if you just need some kind of distraction from something then she’ll get right on it

through her chaos she’s always willing to at least try to the best of her ability to do whatever it is you need to help calm yourself down and soothe your anxiety

but also for the most part Robin is a bit socially anxious and awkward herself so she probably has the best understanding of what you’re going through as well

bc of this you guys don’t actually go out too often, you prefer to just stay at home together and hang out with a nice quiet fun night in!

Nancy Wheeler

Nancy is the type to just sit you down calmly and talk rationally through all of your fears and anxieties

like she does that thing where she makes you realise how ‘silly’ some of the things you worry about are but she doesn’t actually make you feel bad or stupid about it, she just logically and calmly talks you through the scenario until you start to realise that there’s not really anything to worry about

but regardless she’s still there to squeeze your hand tightly whenever you do get a bit overwhelmed or anxious

typically you feel quite safe with Nancy even when you’re out in public bc you know nothing is gonna go wrong whilst she’s around, and if they do then she’s hella quick and prepared to take care of everything

she also really intricately plans your days out or whatever in exquisite detail so there’s basically no room for error, she knows being planned and prepared ahead of time makes you feel better and luckily that’s just how she rolls anyway

Masterlist

A/N: as someone with severe severe social anxiety myself I feel like need a Nancy in my life tbh haha!! thank you for sending the lil scenario!! <33

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thecoloroute · 8 months

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Back To School Shopping List for A College Freshman Art Student

Hi guys I went to RISD a few years back but I do remember looking up this question. if you're not going to college just yet but are interested in art, it could be super useful to get comfortable using the tools/mediums below. even though i know most teachers give a materials list the first day, i needed to be prepared way ahead of time because of my anxiety. in my case, i was told id get a list in person, but walking in with an empty bag just felt wrong to me lol??? i ended up bringing a couple things, but missed a few vital essentials so here's a list of everything that i can think of. read to the end for my wagon epiphany that i think all art students should adopt (if they havent already)

-a notebook or planner (lined). some professors will hit you with extremely important info right away and wont always tell you to write down what they're saying but 90% of the time its important stuff you dont wanna miss

-a sketchbook. this can help if they throw a quick exercise at you and you have to write/draw something quickly. i blanked and didnt bring a sketchbook from home (because i was told id need to get certain types according to the teacher's specifications) but looking back idk why i didnt?? first days are hectic. actually the first week lol. anyways there were single sheets offered but honestly having your own right off the bat helps for organizational purposes, saves time, and IF YOU'RE LIKE ME, prevents the need to get up in front of everyone

-writing utensils. I'd recommend a nice pen and a set of drawing pencils (doesn't have to be anything crazy cause your teacher will most likely request that you buy more advanced/specific tools later on)

-headphones. every teacher is different, but usually art students will be given little tasks to work on during their first day in class at college. I was not clever enough to remember to pack my headphones, and the silence in a room full of focused art students can be especially unnerving when you're nervous. Hearing a student's questionable music taste can be equally unnerving, so make sure to pack those.

-snacks/drinks. this is kind of a branch off of the last one, cause again it can get sooooo quiet in these classrooms/studios. Pack snacks to prevent belly grumbles. I have heard it happen to many people in my classes and i am a victim as well. stay ready

-sunglasses. seems trivial but super important because you'll probably be walking around outside a lot your first day. this is the typical college commute, up down and around the streets.

-MONEY. I AM GOING TO PUT THIS IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE THIS WAS BY FAR MY BIGGEST MISTAKE LOL. UNFORTUNATELY, STAY STRAPPED WITH CASH OR CARD BCUZ! SOME OF THOSE ART SCHOOL PROFESSORS ARE A LIL BOUJEE AND WILL SEND U RIGHT TO THE CAMPUS ART STORE DAY ONE. It was very overwhelming for me, and some might think its common sense but idk my entire school career you always get some time after school to buy that stuff. they really sent us shopping ten minutes into class so be aware or look broke like i did.

Other than that, all the stuff you'll have to potentially purchase that day will be specified by the teacher. If you're worried about getting the wrong thing, don't be. The students get to go together and the teacher gives very specific details about the products to buy, which the campus store workers are well aware of. Off the top of my head, i remember being sent to get materials for a few different classes throughout the day. I'll list them here without the brand specifics (1. cause i dont know and 2. cause it may not match what your teacher will want anyway) just to give you a general idea.

-large ruler, metal, 1 yard (3 ft)

-clear plastic t-shaped ruler for drawing

-sketchbooks, drawing pads (of all sizes)

-a large portfolio (looks like a gigantic black totebag for big art papers)

-sewing kit

-string

-muslin fabric

-ink pens

-drawing pencils, different sizes

-drawing charcoal

-white paper drawing blender, a good eraser

-a toolbox for the drawing materials

-gouache paint

-brushes, pallets

-oil paint crayons

-a tool box

-ink pens like harry potter

That's pretty much it. If you'd like to grab some of these things before hand it should be fine, but for the most part id stick to waiting just to be safe.

Also a side note: I was a commuter so i could run home and grab my materials collected over my entire life but not every student is this lucky and some of their homes are thousands of miles away. if ur a traveling bird like them, it could be very VERY useful to pack some cool materials and tools like idk holographic paper or a jar of crystals because CAMPUS ART STORES ARE VERY EXPENSIVE!!!!

Also....... i know it sounds a little ridiculous but there were many many times i wished i had bought a wagon to transport things around campus. imagine me with a like 4ft portfolio bag the size of my body, a pencil toolbox, another toolbox for actual tools, my backpack, any projects i may have brought, a coffee if i am holding one??? and god forbid its a rainy day and i needed my umbrella lol.. it looks & feels difficult anyway trying to lug all the stuff art school requires.. so thats just some food for thought. Imagine a cute pink wagon?!??

anyways thats a wrap, have a lovely school year artists!

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blieezra · 1 year

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Posting the street racing AU from my Ao3 on here😫

Jesse never thought he would have the same freedom he has now. He definitely didn’t think it would come in the form of an old 1969 red dodge charger. And he definitely didn’t think it would feel like flying.

<-————————<>————————->

Chapter 1

<-————————<>————————->

The smell of gasoline and the sound of mechanical moving parts wasn’t something that Mcree thought he would end up loving, but now it felt more like home than anywhere.

He was seven the first time he smelt it. It was the day after they brought him home for the first time, the may sun still high in the sky, casting the garage in a soft, golden light. At first he hated the smell of gasoline, strong enough to burn his sensitive nose. Now, ten years on and he can’t get enough of it. It was like a drug to him. Addictive. Deadly.

At first he hated the clanking metal surrounding him as he walked in for the first time. It was overwhelming. Now it sounded like a sweet, soft melody reminding him he’s home.

He’d memorised every little detail of the old rundown garage. It was one of his favourite pastimes while gabe worked on whatever car had come in that day. The dirty oil covered rags either hung up on the pegs on the far left wall or thrown on the floor in a pile of inky black mess that he’s pretty sure no one’s ever going to clean.

He doubts that anyone wants to. Who knows what’s hidden in them. That and they’ve become part of the garage, everyone would notice if anything happened to them. Or the posters that lined the walls, peeling off at the corners. Each overlapping another as if there wasn’t enough room for them all, forever fighting for the littlest bit of attention. To be seen. But isn’t that what everyone wants? That’s what Jesse always thought anyways.

Or how the cars taking up the main floor. Even though they never stayed the same for very long he tried to remember them all. Sometimes when he saw one he really liked he would try to draw them but they always turned out bad, looking nothing like the car. He even remembers trying to draw gabes black 1967 impala that always sat out front in the glass showroom, shining under the high sun, ‘where she should be, in the spotlight’ Gabe had said any time Jack questioned why the car had to be out there every day.

Most of his fond early childhood memories were from the time he spent within the garage or in gabes car when he would drive down the barren dusty roads going way over the speed limit on the outskirts of town to a dingy little diner that always had at least one person in it. The place never got much attention but it was one of Jesse's favourite places to go to with his papa.

He still remembers the first time gabe took him out there and let him drive. He was 14 almost 15 when gabe took him down the old dusty barren roads that he’s been down a hundred times by now and knows them like the back of his hand. He still remembers them parking up at the start of a straightway, the sun high in the azure blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

“Hey kid, wanna try driving a real car?” Gabe had asked him looking straight ahead at the horizon.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“I think I’ve known you long enough to trust that you would just up and leave with it.” He said laughing at jesses questions as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You ready to drive?”

He still remembers the feeling of freedom he felt, like nothing he’d ever felt. It felt like he was flying. Who knew that speeding down the old abandoned roads would be his first real taste of freedom. Of life.

Of flying.

#ao3 #overwatch #cole cassidy #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #street racing #AU #yehan #reaper #solider 76 #r76 #reaper76 #young Cole Cassidy #young hanzo shimada #parental reaper76

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i-write-abt-a-buncha-stuff · 2 years

Text

Glams+Sun and Moon with an anxious S/O

——————————————————————————

🐻Freddy🐻:

-Doesn’t really understand at first.

-Anxious? About being around people? But he loves people!

-However, when he sees you from the stage, overwhelmed and trying (and failing) to hide from the children and parents, he’s all over it.

-Their performance is cut slightly short, but most of the kids don’t seem to mind all that much.

-He can tell the last thing you want is more attention, so he avoids outright calling you over.

-He pushes his way through the crowd to you, and he walks with you hidden by his massive frame back to his room.

-Once you explain how it makes you feel, he decides to help in any way he can.

-Even if that means you get switched to another part of the ‘plex than him.

-If it means you’ll feel better, then he doesn’t mind.

🐤Chica🐤:

-Same.

-She eats her anxiety away.

-She doesn’t have very healthy coping mechanisms, but she tries to help you as much as she can!

-Seeing as how food is the only way she’s really ever dealt with her nerves, it’s the first thing she tends to offer you when you’re fighting off an attack.

-However, once you explain that food doesn’t help, she’s quick to think of other ways to alleviate your anxiety.

-She brings you comfort items throughout the day, and likes to give you small kisses all over your face.

-Since she knows what it’s like to have anxiety, she knows that it can cause you to think the worst of yourself, and convince yourself that others feel the same.

-So she makes an effort to show you that she loves to to pieces!

-And she always will, no matter what.

🐊Monty🐊:

-Hoo-boy.

-You told him early on that you suffer from an anxiety disorder.

-“Just beat your anxiety into submission!”

-Thanks, Monty.

-He doesn’t seem to take it all that seriously, that is, until one day he sees you begin to have an attack during his post-concert free-roam.

-You’re surrounded by kids, all asking different questions.

-Parents yelled at you.

-The music blared.

-The lights flashed.

-You were immensely overstimulated, and he could see the panic in your eyes.

-He pushed his way to you, and quickly pulled you away from the situation.

-He sat with you for a little over an hour, drying your tears and steadying your breath.

-“Are you sure you’re okay?”

-You’d apologize and he’d tell you to shut up.

-“I’m the one who should apologize.”

-He takes it much more seriously now, and always watches out for you, no matter where you are.

🐺Roxy🐺:

-Hell, welcome to the club, babe.

-She recognizes in an instant when you start to get overwhelmed.

-She’s like a combination of Monty and Freddy.

-She’ll rush to help you, while also drawing the least possible attention to you.

-A difficult task, all things considered, but she manages to pull it off every time.

-Comfort items, fidget items, food, music, water, etc.

-She has EVERYTHING you’d need in her room.

-The only perk to her also having severe anxiety.

-You know how she hypes herself up?

-She’s hyping you up tenfold.

-“Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes look in the light? Or how nice your voice sounds? Or how much I love the way you watch me onstage? Or-“

-She goes on and on, detailing little things that she loves about you.

🌞Sunrise🌞:

-Probably the most anxious one in the entire ‘plex.

-He, however, chooses not to acknowledge it.

-Hence, him filling his time with activities and games with the kids.

-So when you tell him that you, too, suffer from anxiety, he has no clue what to do.

-He starts out trying to distract you, and sometimes it works!

-However, sometimes his all-over-the-place personality can be the final straw.

-He learned this the hard way on one particularly difficult day.

-You we’re being pulled six different directions by several kids, and it was overwhelming.

-You managed to distract each of them with a game.

-You hid away on the balcony of his room, holding your knees close to your chest.

-Sun knew something was up, so he did the same thing he always did.

-“Y/N! Wanna paint? Or play a game? Or make sock puppets? Or-“

-“Please, leave me alone!”

-You snapped on him.

-Of course, you felt awful, but he understood.

-He was much quieter, and he sat calmly with you for a while.

-“I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

-He’d say this, feeling awful for assuming you and he were the same.

-“Thank you. For everything.”

-Ever since, when he sees you get overwhelmed, he’ll carry you to the balcony, and give you a soft blanket and a couple plushies.

🌝Moondrop🌝:

-He often gets overwhelmed, too.

-However, not to such an extent.

-So, when he saw you shaking and crying after trying to put all the kids to sleep, he was worried.

-“Moonrose, what’s wrong?”

-He’ll speak quietly, more so than normal.

-He’s programmed to calm people down, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he easily bring you back to your normal self.

-He’ll assure you that you’re safe with him, and that nothing can harm you.

-If you allow him, he’ll hold, and even gently rock you.

-He’ll praise you, and remind you that you don’t have to do so much all on your own around there.

-He definitely takes over putting the kids to sleep after that day.

-He also talks to Sun about maybe playing with the kids a bit more, so they’ll be more ready for a nap.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy! Remember that requests are open, so send them in! I love you all, have a wonderful day!

#fnaf glamrocks #fnaf scenarios #fnaf headcanons #fnaf x reader #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf #glamrock chica x reader #glamrock freddy x reader #roxy x reader #monty x reader #sunrise and moondrop #sundrop and moondrop #security breach sundrop #sunrise x reader #moondrop x reader

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stevesbestgirl · 2 years

Text

20/20

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Little!Reader

1163 Words

Warnings: a few swears, marijuana use (reader smokes), accidental regression, mention of nightmares

A/N: Week 8 of the D20 Writing Event! So, I’m a dirty liar. I had something almost finished for this, but I decided I didn’t like it and started from scratch. Sorry it’s so late, but here it is! I really like how it came out, so I hope you all enjoy! Also, this roll is quite possibly the best of my life- in all my years of playing D&D, I’ve never rolled two nat (pun intended) 20′s at once and I’m a little mad I did it for this, but I had fun writing it, so I can’t complain too much. (I know the dice are on the wrong side, but it didn’t matter, so don’t @me)

“We’re in luck,” Natasha flashed the room key at you as she opened the trunk of the car.

“They had space for us?” You pushed off your place leaning on the passenger side and grabbed your own bag from the trunk.

“Just enough. Looks like we’re bunking together.”

“Sharing a room?”

“Sharing a bed. They only had a double.” Natasha was matter-of-fact, unbothered by that fact. But your heart sank; so much for cutting loose tonight. You couldn’t exactly regress and relax with Nat around. She glanced at you after a few moments of silence, “That alright? I figured you wouldn’t mind- not like I’m Steve or Barnes.”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, that’s fine.” You hefted your bag over your shoulder and followed her inside.

Once inside the room, you dropped your bag on the chair, “Go ahead and take the first shower, Nat. I’m gonna chill out for a minute.”

“Thanks, lovey. Be out in a few.” Natasha’s casual term of endearment was enough to make your heart skip.

Once she disappeared into the bathroom, you grabbed the keycard from the bedside table and the little box you kept in your bag. Out in the hallway, you pinched a joint between your lips while you dug for your lighter. Leaning on the railing, you lit the tip, closing your eyes and taking a deep drag; this would have to do for tonight.

You smoked half; too much and you would get a little too relaxed. You slipped back inside as Natasha left the bathroom, toweling her hair dry.

She wrinkled her nose, laughing, “Y’know, I’m not sure that’s legal in this state.”

“Not sure what you mean,” you smirked, tucking your box away. “Must be a skunk outside or somethin’. I’m an upstanding citizen, a public servant- I would never be tempted by the devil’s lettuce.”

Natasha snorted a laugh, drawing a giggle from you; your mind was growing pleasantly foggy. The weight from a long day was sliding off your shoulders. “You’d better go shower off that skunk smell if we’re sharing this bed. I can’t be getting a contact high; one of us has to keep a clear head.”

You offered a wry smile; you felt a little guilty leaving that burden with Nat, but you just didn’t have it in you tonight. You showered, the warm water relieving the rest of the tension in your shoulders. By the time you stepped out, dressed in a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, you felt pleasantly fuzzy, ready to crash. The sooner you slept, the sooner you could get home.

Natasha had already claimed her side of the bed- the side closest to the door, you noticed. That little detail was another reason to relax; you knew you were the most junior member of the team, but Nat always made sure you were covered. She seemed to think of everything; you knew you were just as safe with her as you would be with Steve or Thor.

She glanced up from her book, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Wait, what do you mean?” You hadn’t mentioned feeling overwhelmed.

“You seemed stressed.”

Of course she noticed. “Yeah, guess I was. Thanks.”

She half-smiled, patting the bed, “Well, hop in, snuggle up. We’ll wanna head out early tomorrow.”

“Careful what you’re offering,” you chuckled, hoping she didn’t notice the flush in your face, “You’ll wake up in the middle of night to me clinging to you.”

“Better you than Tony,” she grinned.

You climbed in on your side, taking care to give Nat her space, “Good night. And thanks for covering my ass today.”

“Anytime, lovey. Night.” She marked her place in her book and set it on the nightstand before flipping off the desk lap.

The affectionate nickname made your breath catch the second time around; you hoped Nat didn’t notice. Laying next to her, knowing she was keeping you safe, even while you slept, it tugged at the edges of your consciousness, pulling you under. You hadn’t wanted to regress around Nat, but if you were just going to sleep, it couldn’t hurt. You clutched the blanket close to your face, covering the way your thumb drifted to your mouth.

Your breathing grew deep and even until you fell asleep, finally feeling relaxed and safe. But the day’s stress wasn’t quite finished with you yet, nightmares slinking into your dreams, corrupting the peace you’d found there. Still asleep, a soft whimper escaped your lips, rousing Natasha. She fumbled for the lamp, trying to locate the threat and finding the room empty.

She peered over at you as you made another fearful noise, realizing you were having a bad dream. She gently brushed her hand over your shoulder, “Lovey, it’s alright. Wake up.” When you didn’t wake, she tugged the blanket down from your face, pausing at the sight of your thumb slackly held between your lips. At that, she blinked in surprise, green eyes scanning your face; how had she never noticed before?

She didn’t want to wake you; you would be embarrassed and you’d never go back to sleep then. So she flipped the lamp back off, cuddling close and wrapping an arm around your waist to provide some comfort. The way your shoulders trembled made her heart ache; she wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

You murmured something she couldn’t make out, so she urged in a whisper, “What’s the matter, little dove? Tell me.”

“M-Mommy,” you whined, fidgeting under the weight of her arm and stirring slightly. Another whine slipped out and your eyes fluttered open, suddenly aware of the weight on your side, “Wha-” Your mind was hazy, both from sleep and the weed, half-conscious and partially regressed.

“Hey,” Natasha cooed, shushing you softly. “I’m here, lovey. Go back to sleep.”

“But-” You were reeling, unsure if this was real or if you were still dreaming.

“Mommy’s got you,” she said, brushing her hand over your arm.

With a sleepy groan, you rolled over to face her, tucking your head under her chin and allowing her to hold you closer.

She rubbed your back, whispering, “There’s my good little dove. You’re safe.” She murmured praises and encouragement until your breathing grew even again, chuckling softly to herself once you were asleep again, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, little one?”

You woke the next morning to Natasha’s urging, “Time to get up, lovey. We’ve got to get going soon.” It wasn’t until you felt her fingers tracing circles between your shoulder blades that you remembered the dreamlike scene from the night before.

“Oh, shit.”

Natasha’s voice had a little edge to it, “None of that now. We don’t talk like that.”

You pulled back to meet her gaze, face hot with embarrassment, “Sorry.”

She cupped your chin with a finger, “You’re gonna behave for me, aren’t you dovey?”

She was gazing at you expectantly, a soft smile gracing her lips, and you felt yourself nod.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x little!reader #natasha romanoff x little!reader #mommy!nat x little!reader #mommy!nat #d20 writing event

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

no sleep

pairing: singer!reader x tom holland || w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and many many many suggestive jokes

summary: you’re on jimmy kimmel to talk about your music, but he has other plans

a/n: y’all i’ve literally always wanted to write singer!reader and this idea just came to me and i had to get it out because it’s so cute :,) i really hope ya like it

jimmy kimmel invited you onto his show to promote a single from your upcoming album. you stepped out of the spotlight for a while, so this is your first official appearance of the year.

“my first guest tonight...” there’s a cheer from the audience. you grin to yourself, waiting for jimmy to finish announcing you.

“you wanna say it for me?” he chuckles and stands your picture up on his desk. “my first guest tonight surprised fans this morning with her new single ‘no sleep.’ it’s currently number one in over seventy countries.” jimmy holds for applause, which you get a ton of. you cover your hot face with your hands.

“she’s here to talk to us about the song and her short hiatus. please welcome y/n y/l/n!”

the music plays while you walk onstage, followed by more cheers and clapping. you’re beaming as you wave to everyone. you give jimmy a quick hug and exchange hello’s over the noise.

you’ve been in the industry for a few years, but you’ll never get used to responses like this. all the love really warms your heart.

“thank you!” you giggle out, taking your seat on the couch. the audience yells some more when the music dies out. “thank you so much! oh my god,” you make a face at jimmy, who laughs and gestures to everyone. “they clearly hated the song,” he jokes to you. “i was gonna say,” you agree, smoothing your dress down.

you look out at the crowd with a pout. “no, seriously. you guys are so cute.” jimmy copies your pout, earning a playful eye roll from you.

you’ve been on the show a couple of times before, so you two are friendly. tom has also brought you to chill backstage with him when he was a guest. you would’ve brought him this time if he wasn’t away for filming.

“so, you took most of the year off from making music,” jimmy starts the actual conversation. “mhm, i did,” you hum and cross one of your legs over the other. “how was that? was it weird not being in the studio?” you scrunch your face up, then he adds another question. “what did you actually do with yourself?”

“i mean, music is obviously a big part of who i am. making it, loving it, all that stuff.” a small smile crosses your face. “so, yeah. it sort of felt like something was missing at first.” jimmy nods along, you shrugging one of your shoulders.

“at the same time, i really needed to take a minute and just breathe. come back with my shit more together. i think i have,” you let out a reflective sigh. “it didn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend? a mr. tom holland?” jimmy teases, you waving a hand at him. “no, don’t give him all the credit.”

your break genuinely was for yourself. no one needs to know that tom was also off, or that he spent all his free time with you. that was just a plus.

“are you sure? because, it seemed like you two were getting really cozy.” a picture from your instagram pops up on the screen. it’s of tom under a blanket. he’s reaching out for you with a lazy smile. you lean over on the couch so you’re off camera, another giggle escaping you.

jimmy flips to another picture. “that was exhibit A. here’s exhibit B.” the whole audience coos, jimmy raising his eyebrows at you. this one is a mirror selfie from tom’s instagram. your arms are slung around his neck from behind, and half your face is hidden. tom is doing his signature eye crinkling smile into the camera.

“aren’t they just adorable?” jimmy asks the audience, making them erupt in more cheers. you sit up again and clear your throat. seeing those is bittersweet for you. “he’s very cuddly. anyway, back to the music!” you do a small clap. little do you know, there’s much more to come.

“yes, yes. back to the music. talk to me about ‘no sleep.’” the song is one hundred percent about tom. you’re not sure you should say that, considering the... explicit content in it. you and tom did get very cozy over your break, as jimmy would say. it was the only time you weren’t relaxing.

“well,” you plaster on an overly happy smile. that earns more laughter from jimmy. “it’s about what you do in bed when you’re, um, not sleeping,” you explain. “and who do you do those things in bed with?” jimmy glances up at the screen again. “you’re choosing violence today, jimmy,” you say under your breath.

there’s a chuckle from backstage that sounds eerily similar to tom’s. it must have been a PA. all this talk about him is seriously fucking with your head.

“well, everyone in my life inspires my work in some way. they’re such angels,” you dodge the question, thinking you’re clever about it. jimmy won’t let you get off that easy. “friends? family?” he asks you. “yeah, everyone,” you exhale in relief. jimmy widens his eyes at you. “so, that means ‘no sleep’ is about your mom?”

your mouth falls open. he’s really going to make you spill the details of your sex life.

“what the fuck, no!” you squeal, looking out into the audience for help. they join in your laughter. “it’s about tom,” you finally confirm so jimmy doesn’t suggest anything else. “it’s about tom, my god. next topic.” you’re smiling despite yourself.

“why? don’t you wanna tell us more about your lover?” jimmy glances off to the side. what is going on back there? you sit up straighter in your spot. “no, this is my interview!” you’re half joking, half serious.

although you and tom aren’t private at all, you’ve never talked about him this much. it’s overwhelming. besides that, this is making you miss him a lot.

“that’s too bad. we thought... we thought you might like to share it,” jimmy is already grinning about whatever he has planned. this isn’t supposed to be part of your segment. “huh? i’m literally so lost.” you furrow your eyebrows at him, lowering your voice. “we didn’t talk about this.”

he pats the arm of your couch. “they say there’s no time like the present. ladies and gentlemen, tom holland!”

on cue, tom runs out from backstage. the audience practically roars with how loud they are. people even jump out of their seats. you clasp a hand over your mouth in pure shock. this feels like a prank, like jimmy is about to say sike. then, tom comes up to the couch. you almost fall over, jimmy proudly watching on.

tom grins so wide it takes up his whole face. “happy release day,” he murmurs as you get to your feet. you’re not able to speak just yet, only staring up at him with glossy eyes. he brings you into a tight hug. his hands rub up and down your back, your arms snaking around his middle.

“tommy,” you try to whisper the nickname. you forgot your microphone is on. everyone “aw’s” at you both, including jimmy. “my love,” tom’s lips brush your cheek briefly. “hi, baby,” he speaks into your ear. you hide your face in his button up while he rocks you side to side.

he’s been away for a couple of months working on the third spider-man. this is the first time you’ve seen him since he left.

“shouldn’t you be in atlanta?” you ask louder this time for the audience to hear. you’re still doing an interview. “today’s a big day. i had to see you,” tom gives you one last squeeze. “in person,” he adds, before you can say you already facetimed.

the fact that him and jimmy put this whole thing together is making you emotional. you’d be fully crying if you two were alone right now.

“she doesn’t want you here, though. remember?” jimmy chimes in, tom breathing out a laugh. he sadly lets go of you. you flop back onto the couch, tom pointing behind him with his thumb. “i’ll just be on my way. five hour flight, no big deal.” “no, no, no, no. stay,” you whine and make grabby hands at him.

that’s all it takes for tom to slip into the spot next to you. he bites back a smile, putting an arm around you and the couch. you don’t want to annoy everyone with too much pda, so you subtly curl into his side. the people actually love you and tom together. jimmy claps his hands.

“we’ll be right back with y/n y/l/n and tom holland!” he says into the camera, the band playing more filler music. he steps out from behind the desk to greet tom. tom stands up, the two of them giving each other pats on the back. the camera stops rolling.

“hey, man. thanks for doing this,” tom puts a hand on jimmy’s arm. “anything for the happy couple. i’m gonna get some water, see you in five.” jimmy shoots you another smile on his way to his dressing room. you return it. that leaves you and tom to yourselves.

“baby,” you say in a sing song voice, dropping your head onto tom’s shoulder. “i’m so happy you’re here. i real life almost peed when you came out.” tom snakes his arm around your waist. “that would be upsetting,” he mumbles, his index finger drawing circles on you. “it would’ve ruined your very pretty dress.”

“you like it?” you knowingly tug at the form fitting material. tom shifts in his spot. “i’ll tell you what,” he leans in closer to you with a smirk, his breath tickling your ear. “we’re getting no sleep tonight,” he sings from the chorus of your song. you burst into a giggle and squeeze your eyes shut.

he ends up being right.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #marvel #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fic

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beneathashadytree · 3 years

Text

BRAVERY - TAMAKI AMAJIKI X READER

Warnings : descriptions of anxiety, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff and comfort

Word count : 0.7K words

Synopsis : Tamaki had never thought that there would come a day when he'd willingly push himself out of his comfort zone for someone, and be happy about it.

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Honest to goodness, Tamaki really did try his best.

It's not like he completely refused the idea of dealing with people; no one liked to repel others every time they walked into a room. He only liked having selective people around him, but he was slowly growing more aware of the fact that, if he kept this up, even that would become a luxury.

But it's not like he could help having anxiety either. He didn't ask to be born with the natural tendency to have his nerves frazzled so easily. He didn't like the feeling of being so easily overwhelmed to the extent that, within mere seconds, he'd find his throat clogging up and he'd start having serious difficulty breathing. He wasn't a fan of the nervous sweating, the itching need to wallow in his own self-predatory thoughts, the fuzzy vision, and the hypersensitivity that took over so often. It's just how things were.

But sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to be forcefully pulled out of his shell. Quite a juxtaposition, considering that he feared that above all else.

That train of thought was abruptly cut off when he felt a delicate hand squeeze back at his. Snapping out of his speeding muddled thoughts, Tamaki's eyes trailed to their conjoined hands, his own almost squishing theirs to death with his tight grip.

Mumbling a small apology to his lover whose hand he'd squeezed to a pulp till their knuckles went white, he bashfully looked away---but that wasn't exactly the best option, considering that that meant his gaze would fall upon the crowds of people that seemed to press on him, an almost suffocating feeling enveloping him. His shoulders tensed, and he felt as though his heart was beating in his throat with how loud he could hear it, even among the thrumming crowd.

A deft thumb began to draw little circles against his soft skin (he'd always taken great care of his hands, thanks to Mirio's incessant whining about how someone with hands as pretty as his should really pay attention to tiny details like moisturizing and exfoliating). Tearing his eyes away from darting back and forth between the nameless faces whose boisterous voices pounded in his head, he turned to his sweetheart, who'd placed their other hand on his cheek, cupping his face gently.

Blushing at the contact, he could feel his skin burning as they eyed him with utmost care and affection in their eyes.

"You alright there, Tama?" they asked, slowly squishing his cheek, earning a shy wobbly smile from him, "We can go if it's too much."

After a few moments of hesitation, he shook his head firmly.

"I want to take you out on a proper date," his voice was still a little weak, but it didn't hide his resolve, "Some place other than our dorms."

"Baby, I appreciate the sentiment, but if it's overwhelming for you, I'd hate that."

Squeezing his eyes shut out of embarrassment, he quickly leaned down and pecked their lips, his face blooming an adorable red afterwards. It took him a couple of seconds to recover afterwards and regain his confidence, but once he did, he loosened his grip on their hand a little, opting to entwine their fingers like delicate ropes, while they still seemed pleasantly shocked at his forwardness.

"I'm sure of it," he confirmed, before bravely kissing them once again, softer this time and less rushed, taking his time to relish in their sweet taste against his mouth, "I want things to get better, and I wanna do it with you."

They didn't give him a verbal reply, but their dazzling grin as they watched him bloom beside them like the most beautiful of spring flowers was more than enough to tell just how proud they were of their precious boyfriend---and they intended to show him just how much pride they held for him.

Taglist: @wifeofkyojuro @cloroxisadelectabletreat

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parvuls · 3 years

Text

fic: need seek no further

Jack shrugs. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

a disgustingly fluffy, plotless ficlet about how well jack knows bitty and how he perfected the skill of nonverbal communication through the force of sheer will. also, the frogs.

read on ao3

Dex called Bitty one evening in early May, let Bitty shower him with hellos, and then stated, “We won the NCAA championship.” He said it matter-of-factly, like maybe Jack and Bitty hadn’t been there when it happened, like Jack hadn’t watched him cling to Bitty for a full minute after the stands had spilled onto the ice.

“You did,” Bitty replied, raising his eyes to meet Jack’s with confusion wrinkling between his brows. His phone was set on the kitchen island between them, Dex’s voice filling their kitchen through speaker phone while Bitty’s floured hands were busy kneading dough. Jack was keeping him company on another last-minute testing session for his rhubarb pie recipe, even though the last proof of his book had been approved by his editors over two weeks before. Jack was running out of team members to send leftovers to.

“And Whiskey got voted captain,” Dex continued.

Jack watched as Bitty squinted down at his phone. Bitty had spent half an hour on the phone with Whiskey the night of the banquet; he hadn’t disclosed the details of their conversation to Jack, but his face when he’d returned to their room, had sat down next to Jack on the bed and had leaned his forehead on Jack’s bicep for a long while -- Jack had seen that face before. Had known that expression meant pride.

“So we were talking about it just now,” there was the sound of more people whispering furiously in the background, and Jack thought he could maybe hear Chowder’s unsteady voice calling out, hey Bitty!, and only then he began contemplating the solid possibility that Dex may have been a little drunk. “And -- so we won last year, with you, and now we won again, and we wanna keep winning, right? So we gotta make sure to keep doing everything that’s working.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bitty said agreeably, faintly amused. It was obvious to Jack from his tone that Bitty, at least, had already realized Dex was a little drunk, but was only too happy to play along.

“‘Swawesome,” Dex said fervently, like Bitty had agreed to something very important. “So you see why Whiskey’s gotta learn to make a pie.”

That stopped Bitty in his tracks. Jack blinked, watched Bitty’s long fingers halt their motions in the dough, the pressure of his fingerprints leaving crescent grooves behind. “William Joseph, that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he said, and narrowed his eyes at the screen of his phone like Dex could feel their weight on him through the line. But then he seemed to think it over again, and the pitch of his voice rose as he demanded, “Wait, are you sayin’ Whiskey’s willing to learn how to bake?”

“He says he’ll do it for the win,” Dex said, and Bitty gaped at the phone, then gaped at Jack, and with his cheeks pink and his eyes wide he exclaimed, “Of course I’ll do it!”, like there’d ever been any other option to consider.

Jack kept it to himself, but he had no doubt in his mind that there hadn’t been.

Dex, Chowder and Nursey wait for them at the doorway of the Haus, broad shoulders wedged together in the narrow doorframe.

Bitty had said before they left home, “You don’t have to come, sweetpea,” and Jack had said, simply, “I want to,” and had meant it. It was only in the summer months that Jack had the privilege to see his friends whenever he wished to, and now that the Falconers were out of the playoffs -- well, Jack was feeling a little more withdrawn lately, even quieter than usual, but this felt like something he genuinely wanted to do with the time on his hands. There was also the fact that soon the frogs would graduate, and with them gone Jack would be too far removed to visit the Haus comfortably, even if Bitty still could.

Right now Jack could, and he wanted to, so Bitty and he got in Bitty’s car and drove the forty-five minutes down to Samwell, Bitty’s phone hooked through the aux and his hands tapping on the wheel to the beat. He was nervous, although Jack wasn’t sure exactly why -- only knew it was obvious in Bitty’s restless hands and the frequency he switched songs midway through. Jack reached out and placed his hand on Bitty’s thigh, squeezed, and let Bitty burn his nervous energy whatever way he deemed best.

“We did all the shopping!” Chowder announces as Jack and Bitty walk up the porch steps, and then immediately bounces forward and wraps Bitty in a hug. His long limbs envelope Bitty within them, and soon Jack’s dragged into their circle, too, feels Nursey’s arms fold around his shoulders and Dex’s tentative hand patting him on the back. It doesn’t overwhelm him like it could’ve, maybe, a year or two ago -- it just feels nice, familiar, welcoming. A display of affection he readily returns.

When the huddle breaks, the five of them shuffle through the door and head straight into the kitchen. It looks about the same as it has since Bitty took over it five years ago -- no longer just a room with a fridge full of beers and a broken down table, but a real kitchen, with Suzanne’s hand-sewn curtains and clear countertops and the oven that Jack is still irrationally fond of. Although it seems like it’s been revamped in the months since Jack has last seen it; the cupboards’ hinges are no longer busted, and there are actual shelves stacked along the walls. Jack assumes the likely suspect is Samwell Men’s Hockey current captain, and has to curb a revealing smile that would surely draw questions. It’s another unspoken team tradition, Jack thinks, recalling freshman Will Poindexter: no one leaves it entirely unchanged.

“Y’all are joining us for some baking lessons?” Bitty asks Nursey and Chowder, hand almost unconsciously drifting over the edge of the counters. He looks good there, really, looks right. He’s not the same as he was when he graduated and certainly not the same as when he first claimed this kitchen, but to Jack, Bitty would always look right in the sun streaming through the Haus’ dusty windows, puttering between pots and pans.

“Nah, C and I will get out of your hair for that, but Whiskey isn’t back yet so we’ve got some time. And anyway --” Nursey glances sideways at Dex and Chowder, fails at stifling a smile, “uh, the waffles heard you were coming today, Bits.”

“Going by their reaction, they’ve definitely missed you,” Dex says, arms crossed over his chest, his face serious but a single upwards quirk to the corner of his mouth. It could be a chirp at the waffles, maybe, but Jack is almost certain that it’s sincere nonetheless.

Bitty turns to the shopping bags spread across the counter and starts picking them apart, taking out the ingredients for inspection before setting them down with that same nervous energy, the one that rarely ever follows Bitty into his domain in the kitchen. Jack watches him smile at Dex, honest but jittery, and realizes what he should’ve already known -- how very important it is to Bitty that this goes perfectly.

“Oh, bless them, I’ve missed them too! I’ll tell them hello so we can get started right after,” Bitty says, setting down a bag of brown sugar and taking out a packet of butter from the bag. He looks -- momentarily disappointed, and Jack frowns, searches Bitty’s face. It’s probably only visible to Jack, who recognizes the subtle shift in Bitty’s jaw and the fleeting movement of his eyebrows, but still. He follows Bitty’s eyes down to his hands and to the butter in them, and surveys it for a moment, deep in thought.

“You’ve got two seconds to prepare yourself, bro,” Nursey warns, and then Bully, Hops and Louis descend loudly into the kitchen, flock around Bitty like ducklings. Bitty’s always had that effect on hockey players, on people, even before he got the C. It’s with intense fondness that Jack thinks it, knows the feeling intimately as someone who’s lucky enough to experience that affect every day. He can’t blame them for the way they beam down at Bitty, fight for his attention, laugh when he laughs at the rising volume of their clashing, simultaneous stories.

It’s a good opportunity if nothing else, though, so Jack shoulders his way between Bully and Louis, brushes two fingers over Bitty’s elbow to get his attention. When Bitty turns his head, Jack takes advantage of his height to lean in and say into Bitty’s ear, “Hey, bud, I’m stepping out for a moment.”

Bitty smiles at him, reaches up to stroke a hand down Jack’s cheek just warmly enough to be soothing, just quickly enough to be appropriate. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and thinks, it will be. He pauses, looks down threateningly at the waffles, and leans in to kiss Bitty's temple swiftly, before someone he can’t intimidate as easily as these sophomores could try fining him for it. The space he leaves between Bully and Louis closes as soon as he leaves their side, Bitty disappearing from sight behind their tall forms, but the sound of his cheerful laughter rings after Jack as he walks out of the kitchen and exits through the front door.

When Jack comes back he has to open the door one-handed, the other one busy clutching the handles of a grocery bag. His cap is pulled down low, a protective measure from the crowd that swarmed the Stop and Shop on Pemberton, so it takes a few steps into the Haus’ hallway for him to notice Whiskey hovering in the kitchen doorway, apparently stopped right on his way out of it.

“Jack,” Whiskey looks surprised -- or maybe still mildly star-struck, Jack has always had trouble telling with his face. “You’re here. I haven’t seen you.”

“Got some stuff from the shop,” Jack raises the bag by way of explanation, adjusts his hat, and after a brief moment of stillness hunches his shoulders to bypass Whiskey into the kitchen.

Whiskey bends his neck to peer down into the bag as Jack passes. He looks somewhat horrified at what he finds, as much as Whiskey ever betrays his emotions -- a slight frown, a barely noticeable widening of his eyes. “We need more groceries for this thing?”

Jack shrugs, noncommittal. They don’t, really, but. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

The frogs and waffles have moved to the den while Jack was out -- he can hear them now, Bully’s low voice and Chowder’s quick speech and Hops’ rolling laughter -- but Bitty must’ve heard Jack come in, because he appears next to Whiskey in the kitchen doorway. His gaze darts between the two of them before it lands on the bag hanging from Jack’s fingers, and Jack reaches in to pull out one stick of butter, holding it out so Bitty can see the brand. Bitty’s eyes light up when he realizes, go round and bright, and he declares, “Sweetpea, you shouldn’t have!”, in the tone that means he’s beyond pleased that Jack did.

“That's more butter,” Whiskey says, staring at Bitty and then at the butter already stacked on the counter from the frogs’ shopping trip, clearly bewildered.

Jack twists his body, turns his back to them to find an empty spot somewhere on the counter. “Cabot has a half percent more fat, and Bittle likes his crust flaky,” he explains absently while emptying the contents of the bag onto the spot he chose. It’s important to Bitty that this goes perfectly, and while Jack can’t control Whiskey's abilities in the kitchen, wouldn’t be able to fix baking mishaps if those occur, this is something he can do. Make sure Bitty has the best conditions to work in, grant him a little peace of mind.

When he turns back around Whiskey is gone, and it’s only Bitty standing behind him, his eyes twinkling and his lips parted slightly.

“What?” Jack asks, confused.

There’s a long stretch of silence while Bitty just looks at him. Jack’s rarely comfortable with intense scrutiny from others, but Bitty -- Bitty’s gaze is soft, and he looks at Jack like he’s something good, something to admire. It’s a look he gives Jack often, usually accompanied by the gentlest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the kindest of words. Sometimes Jack’s mind is slow to catch up, too stubborn to be convinced of his own worthiness, but this is the look Bitty gets when his emotions are broadcasted so loudly that even Jack’s mind has to pipe down and listen.

Bitty takes a few steps closer, grabs Jack’s palm between both his hands. “Marry me?” he asks breathily, with a smile curling at his lips.

Warmth flutters in Jack’s stomach at the words, and an answering smile grows on his own lips. The ring glints on Bitty’s finger whenever he moves his hands, is glinting now, where his fingers are curled around Jack’s in the sunny kitchen. It’s been a distraction many times in the past year, but each time Jack sees it he’s reminded of what Bitty and he have promised to each other. The future that is still to come.

There’s no one in the kitchen but them, and the Haus residents sound busy enough in the other room that no one would notice if Jack stole a lone moment. “Sorry, I can’t,” Jack deadpans, grabs Bitty by his hips and gathers him into his arms. His fingers slide over the soft fabric of Bitty’s clothes and find the gap between his top and his shorts, dipping inside to rub against Bitty’s warm skin. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m already engaged.”

“Leave him, then,” Bitty says without missing a beat. He tilts his head up to nudge Jack’s cheek with his nose, wraps his strong arms around Jack’s neck. His face is so close to Jack’s that Jack can count his pale eyelashes, can see the splotches of fading pink on his skin. He’s been spending a lot of time editing his cookbook on their balcony since springtime has arrived, and his body tans nicely but the bridge of his nose has been reddened and peeling for a while. “Run away with me.”

Jack can’t help the temptation, kisses Bitty’s right cheek and then his left one. “Sorry, bud.”

“Why ever not,” Bitty sighs, most dramatically, and uses his grip on Jack’s neck to lean his upper body backwards. “A man who knows his butters? You better believe I’m willing to fight for you, mister.”

It’s the sincerity in his voice that has heat prickling across Jack’s skin, raw pleasure squirming in his chest. It’s a futile battle, though, a battle Jack realized was lost when he dropped Bitty off at this very Haus after their very first summer together, longingly watched him skip up the stairs and thought, oh, I wanna marry him. “I can’t,” he tells Bitty quietly, pulls him closer so the words stay trapped between them, rough and intimate like a secret. “I love my fiancé too much.”

“Oh,” and Bitty flushes at this, red blossoming on the apples of his cheeks like he’s flattered -- like the ring around his finger hasn’t been there for a year, like Jack hasn’t taken to kissing it before kissing Bitty goodbye on nights he leaves for games; like Jack loving him too much to ever consider anyone else is still a novelty, a compliment, after all this time. “Well. Lucky him.”

Lucky me, Jack thinks, and bows his head to fit his mouth to Bitty’s in for a lingering sweet kiss.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #zimbits fic #you'd think one would want to capitalize one's frogs and waffles. but bitty's lack of capitalization on twitter claims otherwise #and who am i to argue #pavfics

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beevean · 3 years

Text

Opinion: How could Sonamy progress in IDW?

[note: the original article was written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik]

Today we’re going to discuss a recurring topic on my blog, with a more complete perspective.

Today’s article was inspired by an ask I got a few days ago about my possible perspective on the future of IDW Sonamy. I thought it would be interesting to revisit and expand this topic, because it’s still something of great interest for thousands of fans all around the world, and because SEGA has recently adopted a very peculiar position on the couple and their dynamic. As I detailed on my article SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever, the dynamic has been going through a shift that can be distinguished into two main parts: 1) the commercial potential of Sonamy as a merchandising and marketing icon; 2) the stability of the interactions in the comics, in the short monthly stories on Sonic Channel, and so on.

That being said, there’s no need to mention that we’re going to focus entirely and nothing more than on this ship. I usually suggest other articles for those who prefer to read on other subjects, but today I will recommend our Discord server [translator’s note: the server is mainly Spanish-speaking], where discussions about ships are limited on their own canal that is separated from other themes: general discussions, music, fangames and mods, fanfics, fanart and even gaming in general. As you know, if you want to bring something else to our community, or just avoid talking about Sonamy, you’re more than welcome to join. Now, back on track.

What’s going on with Sonamy in IDW?

To recap what’s happened in these last months: Sonic and his friends finally got through the nightmare that was the Metal Virus, he and Amy hugged a few times, and since very recently they’ve been involved in a short arc about Chao races in Twinkle Park Zone, with a sinister background. In these last months after the eradication of the virus, there have been much closer and warmer interactions between our two hedgehogs, and I suspect that part of this is what inspired that question in the first place: what’s going on?

As I commented in the article where I proposed that Sonamy is “more canon than ever” (I know that it’s an exaggeration, that was the point), SEGA is treading carefully and the main canon seems to be willing to negotiate a more open representation of the relationship between the two in their different continuities, from best friends to something more. What I did not expect to happen was reading an answer from Evan Stanley (artist and writer that replaces Ian Flynn) about their dynamic, summing it up with “they like each other”.

The redrawing of Sonic’s expression when Amy hugs him in a recent drawing of hers made people wonder if this was yet another example of SEGA’s “censoring” (comparison below), to which Evan answered that it was modified to keep Sonic in character: he’s a guy that does not show much emotional vulnerability or too many negative emotions, and this is why sometimes the artists have to adjust WIPs to keep in line with this official point of view. Evan assured that this is not any kind of confirmation that Sonic does not like Amy, and doubles down by highlighting that in the official material, in the wikis and on Sonic Channel they show that, and I quote: “They like each other, but Sonic just isn’t the kind of guy who is going to make goo-goo eyes at Amy or perform grand acts of romance. If you wanna see that, that’s what fan works are for.”

And Evan’s words are a great way to sum up what’s going on with IDW Sonic right now. When it comes to interactions, they’re working with two characters who deep down “like each other”, but both show it in their own way. Amy is much more proactive when it comes to express her feelings, while Sonic only sometimes shows a glimpse of his feelings, with a smile or a small gesture. But at the end of the day they’re still friends and, depending on the situation, the comic can focus more or less on these details.

Comparison between the first sketch showed by Evan and the final product. The modification of the expression was minimal: Sonic’s slight blush was changed into a smile, maybe being a little overwhelmed by the gesture of affection.

The “progression” of the dynamic in the future

A good part of the answer to this question is based on my idea that right now, when it comes to Sonamy, we reached some kind of comfortable plateau. What am I referring to? To the fact that there have been a lot of varied interactions in these last 3 years of the comic, and they’re everything I could have asked for and then some. When we talk about Sonamy in canon, as Evan said, we don’t tend to hope for great romantic gestures from Sonic, we barely even ask for a look that hints that they understand each other beyond what it seems at first glance, so the fact that the IDW continuity is betting so much on this ship is basically a dream come true. For this reason, I don’t think things will change much in the future.

If I have to make a prediction on Sonamy’s future in IDW, I believe that there are still a lot of possibilities that our known writers (and maybe new writers!) could explore more, to see what makes this dynamic work so well. Actually, about 10 years ago, Ian Flynn wrote that if they could take advantage of the abilities and similarities between the two characters as adventurous spirits and with a strong moral sense, they would be “like poetry in motion”. This largely happens in IDW Sonic if you look carefully, but there are always new stories to tell and opportunities for them to work together and explore a bit more their strong bond, stronger than other friendships that they share. When the next major arc comes (which seems to be getting closer), they could explore aspects of their dynamic that are slightly more experimental, like being separated for extended periods of time and under dangerous situations… as long as they don’t turn it into a painful experience like the Metal Virus arc.

What Ian Flynn wrote about Sonamy, what works and what doesn’t. This was written in 2011, when Archie Sonic was still the major comic continuity, and when, according to Ian, Sonic was still “tied” to Sally Acord, leaving little room to the writers’ opinions.

The reality is that I see a stable future for the dynamic in the IDW universe. Sonamy is not fit for a lot of drama (fights, breaking up, etc.) without feeling forced or completely out of place, and only fanfics and fanart could be capable of capitalizing on this kind of content. On the other hand, for reasons I detailed in past articles, SEGA would not dare to alter the established order of the dynamic, let alone new that they managed to recover and maintain control over the ways Sonamy is being portrayed everywhere. SEGA won’t pull a Dragon Prince, which ended up confirming the main ship and then they made them go through a crisis and break up in a heartwrenching way in the graphic novel that acts as a bridge between season 3 and 4.

In short

The future of IDW Sonamy is looking bright and stable. I don’t think there will be serious changes to what we’re experiencing right now, and this is why both Evan Stanley and Ian Flynn agree that the dynamic is practically in the perfect place, keeping in line to how SEGA wants them to be represented together. This means we won’t see more affectionate gestures than what we’re seeing now (I doubt we’ll ever see again Sonic offering Amy a rose like in Sonic X), but it also means that we have now a solid basis for our expectations. In the now old IDW Sonic #2, Sonic and Amy had the chance of seriously talking a bit about what they thought of each other, with Sonic being determined to keep living life his own way (although he wouldn’t mind Amy to accompany him… or even suggesting himself that she could come), and Amy being determined to respect his way of life, because that’s what she loves about him, and she doesn’t want him to change. Since then, all we have seen and we’ll keep seeing in the comic is a consequence of this key moment; the two philosophies that they have and they share, in a constant back-and-forth with some tense moments and some cute moments.

An interesting detail that wasn’t included in the ask and that makes me think is the possibility that all of this will feature in the games as well. This is a completely different matter for another day, but I like to think that there is the possibility that we’ll see SEGA being more interested in inserting more Sonamy in the games, even if in an indirect way like in Sonic Unleashed and its emotional support, especially if the rumors that we’re about to get a soft-reboot are true. Romance is not something Sonic games are famous for doing well… at all, but that doesn’t mean it would be a bad idea to add a little sprinkle of IDW Sonamy in the mix.

And finally, I think I’ve talked enough about this topic, As you know, we’re waiting for some news, and I hope we’ll see each other again here or on our Discord. We’ll see if on this 25th something interesting happens. In any case, see you next time!

The moment that shaped the present and future of their entire relationship, 3 years ago.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #long post #translation #oh look just in time for that famous thursday 25th #keeping up the chronicles of sonamy's evolution #this was fun to translate lol #it's probably a little clunky in some places but it should be readable enough #anyway now i'm hyped lol

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iron-mum · 3 years

Text

My Spider Sense is Shinglin’

By @iron-mum and @geekinthecorner for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (Brief appearances from Stephen Strange, Helen Cho and Bruce Banner)

Summary:

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket. “A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well. “You wanna try that again with less understatements?” “Headache.” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when... “Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

or: Peter mistakes shingles for a pulled muscles and suffers miserably.

Tony had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. An ingrained intuition from the copious amounts of people he had met in his lifetime had led to some pretty nifty bullshit detecting skills. The genius paid attention far more than he was given credit for, particularly when it came to the few people he held closest and dearest. Peter was adamant that if he were a Sim he would have the perceptive and observant trait, albeit his chance of learning something new from a socialisation being higher than the thirty-five percent the game offered. The duo had settled for a solid seventy percent.

So, when the very intern who praised his observational skills barely uttered more than a greeting upon sheepishly entering the lab, Tony knew something was up. Peter who was usually all beaming, charismatic grins and energetic pacing on the floor—or ceiling— had been sat in the same spot for almost an hour or so, features so tense it looked unnatural. Initially, the older man had made subtle changes to the environment they were in, lowering the music a notch and dimming the lights ever so slightly in an effort to decipher the discomfort the kid was apparently unwilling to discuss. All had proven unsuccessful.

“You okay, buddy?” Tony questioned softly, when he noticed the teen wince and wriggle from his seated position. The deciphering had been going on all morning so all that had been left was tackling the issue head on. Rather than answering, Peter put the pen down that he’d been aimlessly playing with and cupped his face in his hands, breathing harsher than usual.

“My Spider Sense has just been really acting up all day,” he hesitantly replied as he heard his mentor’s steps draw closer. “It’s been getting more uncomfortable as the day progressed.”

A cool hand tentatively cupped his neck before manoeuvring to the left shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. Peter instantly wished the soothing touch to his skin lasted longer than the few seconds it had, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as he fought to not cry there and then at how glorious it had been.

Alarm bells were ringing in his mentor’s head instantaneously. An admission of discomfort was rare and not something to be taken lightly when coming from someone who could easily make jokes about being stabbed or hit by a truck. That in addition to a sound that resembled a small baby animal in distress had Tony’s mind in overdrive.

“You’re feeling a little peaky. Why don’t we call it a day for lab time and go up to the penthouse?” Tony offered, mentally chastising the potential for Parker luck to strike at this very moment. The kid’s aunt was away for a week with training and Pepper was abroad for international meetings. Not that he didn’t want to look after Peter, the mechanic just immediately felt awkward and three thousand percent out of his league at the prospect. There was a small sigh of relief when Peter finally meandered off his chair, the duo slowly making their way towards the elevator. The older man’s hand remained on the kid’s shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing the teen’s neck as he seemed to be enjoying the movement.

“You take a seat on the couch, I’ll fix us up some snacks,” Tony directed as he watched Peter totter across the room before sluggishly flopping onto the sofa, one arm immediately resting over his eyes whilst the other lay across his chest and holding his left side. There had barely been a hum of acknowledgement.

Peter felt absolutely, fudging dreadful. His stomach growled in hunger as a reminder that he’d waited far too long to eat but his appetite was completely shot. Almost like his mind had dissociated from the basic needs it required. All he could concentrate on was not succumbing to the pain in his flank which at this rate had gone from dull ache to a thousand knives piercing him over and over.

Not wanting to eat and feeling like the worst human possible for not telling his mentor to stop the food preparation, Peter opted for feigning to be asleep. A difficult task in itself considering the spikes of pins and needles he’d been feeling. Amidst the all-over-body irritation was a very prominent, localised pain to his left side. The teen had put it down to a pulled muscle as he had been patrolling a lot more vigorously than usual with the school break now in full swing. Nice one, Parker.

The self diagnosis Peter provided himself meant that he’d been reluctant to mention anything to Tony prior, not wanting to be a burden over something that should have been trivial. His mentor did always seem to be dealing with more than enough on his plate anyway. With a small shiver at the feeling of bugs crawling across his skin, Peter began to second guess not providing Mr. Stark with all the details of his symptoms. After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, a soft material was being draped over him.

Tony had clearly fallen for the fake sleeping act. Or was just too polite to call him out on it . Allowing Peter the whole sofa, he slid an armchair across so he was within close proximity to the kid and pulled out a Stark Tablet ensuring the brightness was low. The genius had used the settings on the tablet to dim the room and ensure no one disturbed them.

The teen could hear the tablets gentle thrum, the sound of Tony’s fingers delicately touching the pad and his steady, calming heartbeat. His breathing was soft and gentle, a steady tempo that Peter found himself trying to follow. He eventually yielded to drowsiness and found himself slowly falling into darkness, hoping he’d feel better after a nap.

Peter’s wake up had been particularly violent. The teen shot up after feeling an excruciating sting in his side, skin feeling like he was literally on fire. He’d swiftly fallen backwards into the cushions, mind still catching up with the body, leaving him with a sense of disorientation and overwhelmingly lightheaded. Tony was at his side within seconds, clearly just returning from the bathroom, a flare of panic in his eyes.

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket.

“A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well.

“You wanna try that again with less understatements?”

“Headache,” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when...

“Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

“The day you’re not hungry is the day the whole country falls apart,” Tony frowned as he headed to the kitchen and ran the tap. A full glass of water and wrung out flannel later he was back at Peter’s side and very carefully helping him to sit up, the sway and unease in the teen’s movements evident.

The thought of water had Peter feeling nauseous but he knew this wasn’t something his mentor was going to back down on. He held the glass in his hands, leaving it on his lap for a moment and enjoying the cold temperature on his fingertips. The older man carefully placed the flannel on his neck and boy, was it heavenly. A final moment of discomfort dissipated and the relief was overwhelming.

“Peter?” Tony asked, tone full of a parental tone that Peter had only thought he’d ever hear from his Aunt. The flannel was off of his neck and wiping away the sweat from his face, a thumb underneath the cloth carefully gliding under his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” burst out of his lips before he could stop it when he registered the way his face had crumpled, just about holding in the tears. “I don’t want to be sick.”

"Come here, kid," his mentor offered soothingly and quietly, knowing that when Peter was this burnt out, a sensory overload could creep in and take over at any minute. And that was the last thing he needed added to the mix of symptoms. Tony placed the flannel down and took the glass from tremoring hands before opening his arms.

Peter complied, leaning into Tony, his face buried into the older man’s shoulder as one of his hands clutched tightly onto the rock band themed t-shirt. His body let out a long, shuddering breath no longer able to keep it in through fear his lungs would burst. It was a bittersweet mixture of relief and excruciating stabbing in his side again.

"I’ve got you, buddy. Nice slow, breaths for me. I’ve got you." Tony’s arms were wrapped around him tightly now, a strong grip that left him feeling protected and grounded. One hand found its way in the teen’s hair and started to massage the scalp, occasionally lifting the curls and allowing them to ping back.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the teen mumbled, face not wanting to leave from its smushed position in the older man’s t-shirt.

Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony simply tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair in response. All those years of being so abundantly sure he’d never had kids were well and truly buried in the past. It wasn’t necessarily that he’d disliked children or wanted to be tied down to a miniature version of himself, fragile and requiring a dependant who could at least look after themselves which wasn’t one of his strongest traits. But he also had a terrible fear of failing. Of being like Howard.

Whilst he knew he didn’t have it in himself to be so ruthless and cruel, it troubled him to no end. And even when Peter Parker had come along and wormed his way into his life in all the best kinds of ways. It had taken time to acknowledge the level of care he’d had. This young, endearing, little shit had Tony wanting to give him his all. Hell, the more weekends they’d spent together the more sure he was that Peter would in fact be his legacy. A part of his small circle of friends who he trusted like family and would fiercely protect at all costs. And despite the pair not seeming to be aware of how close their bond was, a majority of their nearest and dearest could spot it from a mile away whilst being blindfolded.

“You wanna tell me when you started feeling this funk? Do I need to speak with Helen?” Tony questioned when Peter pulled away.

“I pulled a muscle on my left side a few days ago and kinda felt off since then. The tingling has been the same, but like initially it was on and off. Sometimes it was on par with that time Vulture dropped a warehouse on me and the next, like that time I entered the building on fire to save Tiddles the tortoise. Or that time I got road rash after being dragged by a van down fifth street. Or that time Tiddles took a chunk out of my finger.”

“Alright. I’m going to be honest. That's a lot to unpack, kid,” Tony remarked when he’d managed to metaphorically pick his jaw off the ground.

“Few days of stuff. Sometimes aches, sometimes sharp shooty pains,” Peter clarified as he rubbed his nose.

“When you’re feeling better we’ll be having a chat. Particularly about this apparent arch nemesis, Tiddles .”

“Tiddles is totally my villain origin story.”

“On the subject of villains , wanna carry on watching The Big Hero 6 series? Globby has me on the edge of my seat on what he’s going to get up to next.”

“Sounds like a plan, Iron Man.”

On cue, F.R.I.D.A.Y. dimmed the lights as the TV turned on and the surround sound immediately kicked in. As the opening theme popped up on the screen, Tony was on his feet and skipping towards the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he’d prepared beforehand. He shoved a bowl into Peter’s hands, a smirk tugging at his lips when the teen immediately took a handful of popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth. The older man took a seat next to Peter, digging into a bowl of chips with a side of dip.

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Peter had slowly scooted towards his mentor until Tony got the hint and had shifted his arm to the back of the sofa so the teen’s head could rest on his chest. Eventually the hand that had previously been gripping the back of the couch would find its way wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and then eventually providing tender ministrations across the scalp.

The aches and protests Peter’s body had been firing off seemed to be that much easier to ignore as they cuddled. Not only was the calm heartbeat and steady breathing back to lull the teen to sleep, but he could also feel the gently hearty chuckles of Tony as well as his warmth. Like a heated blanket set to the perfect temperature. Peter succumbed to darkness with the faintest of smile across his face that the man who hated being emotionally vulnerable and often recoiled from physical contact had made an exception for him. And how freaking lucky and privileged was that?

Although Peter was feeling completely shattered, sleep did not arrive once he’d gone to bed. He’d managed to nap again on the sofa which had prompted his mentor to call it a night. The teen’s bleary eyes checked the time from his bedside clock—04:03—he let out a defeated groan. He’d certainly been drowsy, but felt like he’d been on the edge of drifting to sleep and then immediately stirring.

The usual comfort and feeling of safety of Tony’s MIT hoodie was instantly tarnished as his skin prickled with fire at the fabric being placed over it. Peter audibly gulped before creeping out of the room and heading to the lab, wanting to be in his mentor’s presence or at least find some sort of distraction.

As the doors made a gentle swooshing noise upon opening, he felt his mentor's gaze fall upon him. Peter spotted the squint of Tony's eyes as he started to study him. He definitely could tell the teen looked as shit as he felt no doubt. Bags under his glassy eyes at the level of exhaustion he was feeling and cheeks still flushed even though the ambient temperature.

“Stop analysing me please, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, wishing the world would just swallow him up already.

"I can't tell if you're up early or late." Tony stated as he dropped the tools he was working on and hastily made his way towards Peter's side. The boy’s body language was screaming undeniable discomfort as he clearly started to struggle to even move.

"I tried to sleep, I really did." Peter answered more exasperated that he had meant to. He'd seen right through his mentor's statement, knowing he'd wanted to ask if he’d actually got any sleep. “I was so... uncomfortable,” the last word almost came out as a choke, breath hitching. “Everything… hurts.”

“Come here, buddy,” Tony gently coaxed as he went to embrace the young hero. One of his arms had barely made its way around Peter’s back when he’d recoiled back involuntarily at the burning sting the touch had caused. Tony took a horrified step back, arms awkwardly falling back to place at his sides. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh God. Oh G- I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he gasped as his face crumpled and a frown replaced the forced neutral ‘ I’ve got this’ look.

“Peter…” Tony started, but stopped as the words barrelled out of his mentee, emotions all over the place.

“Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know why… Everything hurts… And now. Now…”

“Take a breath, kiddo. Nice and easy,” Tony instructed as he took a single step towards the teen. “Let’s get you somewhere comfy and then we’ll get you checked over, okay?”

Peter managed a weak nod, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the hoodie and followed, trudging slowly as a bone-deep exhaustion dictated his every step. The teen didn’t recall the trip in the elevator nor getting to the sofa. Almost as if it had been a blip in time, not even a blurred feeling or sensation, just missing.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Underoos.” Tony’s voice cut through the mental fog. The tone hadn’t been condescending in any manner. Just an honest admission, hoping to catch the boy’s attention.

“It’s got worse. So much worse.”

“Fri, temperature?”

“38.7. This is up from 37.8 yesterday,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified, the duo both cringing at the change.

“Alright, I’m pulling rank, we need to get you checked over,” Tony decided, not wanting to take any chances with worsening symptoms. Particularly when fever was now added into the mix and his Spiderling had next to know thermoregulation.

“Wait… Wait. Could we try super soldier strength Tylenol?” Peter pleaded, giving his best puppy dog look. At this rate he was happy to put on the Peter-Pity-Party-Parker charm if it meant avoiding the dreaded medbay.

“I catch even a whiff of you getting any worse and we’ll be in the medbay quicker than you can say super soldier strength, again. Oh, and you’re having some food,” Tony conceded reluctantly as he left the kid’s side to grab the medication.

“Take these,” he requested handing over the pills once they’d been procured. “I’m going to make some toast.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled. He briefly allowed his eyes to close as he listened to his mentor potter around the kitchen, cupboards being opened and utensils being sought. The noises reminded him of the domesticity of home life with May as she’d scramble to prepare last minute lunchbox snacks for the pair of them.

His mentor returned a few minutes later with two toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches in hand, Peter’s eyes slowly opening as he took the plate. After the first bite he let out a hum of satisfaction. Everything about it was perfect; the way the toasted bread crunched when he took a bite, the warm peanut butter coating his mouth, the tangy sweet from the strawberry jam.

By mid-morning, Peter had drifted off to sleep and Tony once again found himself watching over him. The teen’s vitals were up in the top right of his tablet, scrutinizing eyes narrowing when it had slowly started to creep back up. The agitation to touch had shortly followed as Peter would suddenly jerk and grunt.

Tentatively, Tony lightly brushed the damp curls sticking to his mentee's forehead away so he could lay a damp cloth across it. The teen let out a whimper the moment it touched, body shivering violently at its exaggerated interpretation of the coolness. The lengths Tony would do to take away the pain and discomfort for his kid couldn’t even be put into words.

They were back up to 38.7 by lunchtime. Not that Tony had seen. The tablet in his hand was precariously dangling from one hand the other still buried in Peter’s hair. Exhaustion had well and truly settled in and he’d drifted off despite all the coffee he had consumed.

An ear piercing screech and wild arm being thrown into his face woke Tony from his nap. He practically fell off the sofa as his mind tried to process what the fuck was happening. Animalistic cries, screams for help and an arm hitting him again from his position on the ground was enough to spring the words emergency into his mind.

“Fri! Call every doctor right now!” Tony said harshly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from the request when orange flecks appeared in the room and then a portal was opened by Stephen Strange.

“List of symptoms?” was all he said, saving the greeting for later when he saw the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and the twitchiness of Tony meaning a panic attack was likely right around the corner.

“Skin has been tingling yesterday and today but isn’t his Spider Senses. Fever, loss of appetite, sensitive to the lightest touches and a pain to his left side. Mixture of aches that range from being bitten by a tortoise to being hit by a truck,” Tony was rubbing his eyes profusely, desperately wanting the sleep to remove itself from his weary features. The doctor had perked a brow at the last sentence but quickly decided what he wanted to do next.

“Peter, I’m going to lift your shirt,” he informed, not meaning to ignore Tony but just needing to get straight to work with the triage. “Actually, could you lift it Tony? I don’t want… my hands to make this any worse than it’s going to be if he’s touch sensitive.”

Tony was quick to comply, hating the few seconds it had taken as Peter’s face scrunched into an anguished grimace at the feeling and his whimpering turned into ragged sobs. The raised, blotchy red rash across his side was clear as day. It looked like a nerve branching across his chest, angry looking blisters scattered throughout it’s hostile takeover of his pale, clammy skin. Dashing footsteps from the hall alerted the trio that more medical personnel had arrived in the form of Bruce Banner and Helen Cho.

“I think it’s shingles. We’re going to need a gurney,” Stephen called out briskly, not wanting to waste any time. A rash meant it was potentially already a few days into the virus taking hold so precious time had been wasted for optimum effectiveness of the antivirals. The doctors skidded to a halt, well aware a gurney would be just seconds behind them courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assistance. “Fever, malaise, hyperesthesia, vesicular rash spreading from left flank.”

If Tony thought it had been unbearable watching Peter be transported onto the gurney and swiftly taken to the medbay. Then it had been an absolute living nightmare to see him be poked and prodded, IV needing to be in place to provide the fluids his body needed and the administration of pain medication that would help dull down his senses and hopefully allow him to rest. Bruce had tried to keep him at arms length to give the medical personnel the space they needed but that had lasted mere seconds.

Peter's body was stiff and twitching involuntarily, his back arched awkwardly as he writhed in brutal agony. The teen's face was contorted in pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth slightly open as he took gasping breaths laced with cries and incoherent mutterings of pleads for help. Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down the side of his face and God did Tony want to wipe them away but he knew even the faintest of touches had felt like chemical burns to the kid.

The morphine was due to take effect at any moment, but until then Tony felt like a useless entity within the room. Peter's hands gripped onto the sheets and tore them instantly. There was a risk that the IV was going to be yanked out if the flailing didn’t stop.

"Dad… Dad…" Peter bawled, no longer capable of riding out the searing pain in solitude. Tony short circuited. The room froze. "Dad!" the teen again screamed when there had been no response despite the multiple blurred forms within the room seeming to hear him.

Fuck this. Tony had pushed past Bruce, not enough to harm him in any way, just enough to give him the space to get to his kid’s side. One hand was placed on the mattress of the bed and the other eagerly wanting to stroke the boy’s head but sitting next to the pillow instead.

“I’m here, kiddo. I’m here,” he assured as best as he could, voice on the edge of breaking.

In a move apparently out of his control, Peter’s hand lashed out and grabbed his mentor’s wrist. Quickly, the pads of his fingers dup deep into the flesh, unable to control his enhanced abilities whilst so delirious. The first crunch of bone had Tony biting down on his lip, desperately attempting to remain stoic for Peter’s sake. But then the bones grinded and he let out a pained gasp.

“Peter,” He managed as he deeply inhaled in an effort to sound as self-controlled as possible. The tight clasp started to loosen, as the teen’s movements slowed and his eyes looked almost vacant before they closed. Tony had taken a staggering step back once it had been clear, unsure if it was motivated by the searing pain of his now broken wrist or because there was the pressure of someone’s hand on his shoulder leading him away. He’d barely made it to the hallway still unsure who he was following when his knees buckled and the world around him became a bleak blur.

In his catatonic state, Tony wouldn’t remember the scans and treatment of the newly broken bone. His exhausted body would simply shut down and he’d fall asleep, itching to fend off the feelings of panic stricken shock and complete, unrivalled fear. When he did rouse, Bruce and Stephen had been there to let him know how his mentee was before informing him of the damage that had been inflicted. A broken wrist was nothing when he found out Peter was now on enough medication to allow a pain-free rest.

The first conscious memory Peter had in the fog of his slow awakening was the dry taste in his mouth and beginnings of nausea creeping up on him. Despite his body protesting he attempted a small movement, wincing as he did so. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he slowly lifted his arm to rub his eyes before attempting to open them. When his sense of smell returned and the stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils hit, his eyes opened far too quickly and far too widely.

The teen’s attention was quickly drawn to the presence to his left. Tony was slumped in a chair at such an incredibly awkward angle it was sure to cause neck ache when he woke up. A cast-clad wrist was loosely folded across his chest as the other arm seemed to loosely cradle it. Gentle snoring would usually be comforting for Peter, but his eyes kept drawing back to the cast with a dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had been the one to cause of it.

Peter moved again, hissing at how incredibly touch sensitive he seemed to be. It was as if he could feel every individual fibre of the bedding around him. Despite the noise being barely audible, Tony started to awaken. The older man had gone to move too sharply, clearly moving his sore arm too quickly and boy could Peter not take his eyes off of that cast.

“There’s my favourite young adult,” Tony greeted gently as he awkwardly shifted to pour a small jug of water into a cup, the casted hand barely keeping it in place. He did his utmost best to remain passive faced despite how tedious the task now felt to him and he could feel Peter’s hard pressed stare on him and the arm. Plopping a straw into the cup he brought it to the teen’s mouth. Peter had wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth.

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Tony asked once he’d finished, placing the cup to the side. Lordy, did his kid look so small in the hospital bed.

“A little high,” Peter confessed after assessing himself and spotting the cannula in his hand. “A little sore… Mr. Stark…?”

“If you need any more painkillers than just let me know and I can get Cho. They’ve got you on the good stuff,” Tony was completely aware that sore was likely overriding the high feeling. Because he’d seen Peter high on pain medication before. It tended to involve a big goofy smile and eyes bug-eyed wide. There’d even been the occasional moments where he thought he could fly and would flap his wings whilst making whooshing sound effects.

“What happened?” Peter asked so innocently and child like, a reminder of the young hero’s age. Tony had to steel himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to go down. Because he knew what the kid was like. Knows that the kid can’t stop taking his eyes off the cast.

“You got a one way rare ticket to getting shingles. Not common for your age bracket and Spideyness but. We know what you’re like when it comes to contracting the weird and wonderfu-”

“I meant... what happened to your arm?” Tony looked down at it before meeting the teen’s eyes.

"Alright, so don't freak out on me. You did nothing wrong…" The older man began, quickly being interrupted by an even paler looking Peter.

"Oh God…"

"Ah-ah. Listen to me, Peter." Tony requested firmly, as he placed a hand over Peter’s and carefully gripped. He needed to show there was still respect and most importantly trust. Needed the boy to be grounded and to focus if this wasn’t about to turn into an emotional shit show. "Please."

There were tears welling in Peter’s eyes that he had no chance of fighting. Lacking the confidence in his own voice to not crack he simply nodded.

"You were off your face, quite literally, with a fever whilst a virus attacked your nerves. You were not in control. And it was an accident." His mentor’s voice was tender, sympathetic with just a touch of authority. His eyes were full of love and conviction that stunned Peter momentarily whilst he absorbed the information.

"I'm so sorry, Tony,” the teen rasped, barely holding himself together. The kindness he was being shown felt unwarranted and undeserving.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, buddy. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know you’re playing the blame game right now because I’ve been there. I-I-Pepper was almost attacked by a suit because of my actions whilst I was asleep. It’s undeniable logic that I wasn’t even conscious so how was it my fault? But I let it eat away at me and she had to snap me out of that deep guilt-trip-well big time. I know you, Peter. I know you’d never hurt me. And nothing could hurt more than seeing you in pain and being utterly helpless to make it better.”

The stiffness in Peter’s hand finally released and his hand gently took hold of Tony’s thumb. The teen shifted into a seated position, his mentor standing as he did so before leaning over the bed and offering a hug. Peter accepted the embrace, the determination in the movement and lack of flinching from the older man serving only to affirm that he didn’t fear the boy.

“Alright, move over, Young Buck. Your old man can’t stay bent like this for too long.”

With his mentee shifted out of the way, Tony scooted onto the bed and raised an arm immediately. Peter showed just a hint of hesitance before snuggling in, an arm placed across Tony’s lap and his head on his chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter admitted, the latter of the sentence slightly slurring as he started to drift off in the safety of his mentor’s arms.

“Get some rest, Peter. I’m sure you’ll make up for the lack of talking once we get back in the lab,” Tony mumbled before a thought crossed his mind. “In fact, you get to fill me in all about Tiddles once you’re up and ready. That tortoise is on thin fucking ice.”

The teen half smirked at the comment, though no words formulated as sleep took a hold. Deep breaths soon turned into soft snoring. The older man’s fingers slowed their movements before coming to a halt as he planted a tender kiss into the teen’s hair. As he started to feel himself succumb to exhaustion he requested that they only be disturbed if it was a mandatory check up or emergency.

“Love you, dad,” Peter whispered so softly it was barely audible. Even in his exhausted state, Tony’s chest filled with overwhelming joy and happiness.

“Love you too, buddy,” Tony replied with a content, sleepy smile on his face.

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #fic exchange #sickfic

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httpsaiki · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I get a request for Kusuo himself? So bare with me cause this may or may not be a little but based of a dream I had. Okay so the reader and him are older and engaged and they are having an engagement party. They invited his high school friends (I think he would be like barley out of college) and his family, parents, grandparents, and his brother (who he most definitely didn’t wanna invite but part of him knew his brother would be upset abt him getting engaged first and that made it just a bit better). No one knows about the engagement cause I feel that Saiki is someone to tell people huge news like it is nothing. They find out by the end and it’s just chaos and support. Bonus points of Kusuo gets emotional. Ik this is a mess and I apologize. Also if you don’t like anything please change or ignore this request. Have an amazing day!

Hello, Anon! I really hope this lives up to your maybe dream! This was such a cute thing and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for this request!

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Engagement Party

Reader is gender neutral! This is supposed to be all cute and fluffy aka lots of soft Kusuo. No warnings!

WC: 1536

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

In which the reader and Kusuo are engaged and want to reveal the big news.

—————————————————–

Today was the day. Kusuo had proposed to you only a few days ago, and you had to say, it was the happiest day of your life yet. Honestly speaking, it still didn’t feel real. Kusuo Saiki was going to be your husband. You knew for sure he’s the right person for you and there was no doubt all your friends and family would be super excited for you both. It was a dream come true, and you’d never been so sure you made the right decision. You hadn’t told anyone yet, opting to go the engagement party route instead. And that was why today was such a big deal. In a mere couple of hours, you’d be breaking the news to everybody. The plan was simply to hold the party in your shared house, as you knew Kusuo would prefer a small get together rather than a large scale party. You were placing the last few things in place when your fiancé came into the room, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/N. They’re going to be here soon,” he grabbed your left hand, admiring the ring on your finger, “Is everything ready?” You leaned back into his touch, appreciating how much he cared about this gathering despite him not wanting to make a big deal out of everything. You had put a lot of effort into this. For Kusuo’s sake, you decided not to just announce it right off the bat, it would be better to do so near the end and in a calm fashion. You knew his opinions on drawing attention to himself had not changed much over the years, and your shared friend group was still blissfully unaware of his powers. Even so, he just didn’t see the real reason behind making a huge deal out of something. Yes - this really was the most important decision of his life, and he didn’t regret it for a second - but he didn’t feel the need to make it a huge event. You understood but still wanted to do something special to celebrate. Kusuo was not one to deny you of that and was happy enough to help you set something up.

The doorbell rang, ruining your small moment. You were rather excited to see your first guest. It had been a long while since you’d seen most of these people, considering you both had to work and adult life, in general, is always getting in the way. It made meeting up difficult. You made sure today would be doable for everyone invited. It was crucial as many of your loved ones came as possible. You’d made your way over to the door opening it to reveal a few of your friends, Nendou, Kuboyasu, and Kaidou.

“Hello, everyone!” You greeted, “Please, come in!”

An unorganized chorus of “Hello Y/N.” rang out from your friends' mouths as they walked in. You, unlike your fiancé, were overjoyed to see them, looking forward to having this party. None of them really knew for sure why they were there, but you counted on them not asking just yet. You’d only invited people over under the pretense you wanted to host a get-together and missed every one. Your excuse had been generally accepted, and many of the people involved had been meaning to plan something like this anyway. As you all got comfortable in the living room, sitting down and catching up, the doorbell rang yet again. In a rush, you got up to answer the door, now welcoming in Saiki’s grandparents as well as Teruhashi and Yumehara. The rest of the invitees came soon after, including Hairou, Saiki’s parents. Now you were only missing Kusuke Saiki, Kusuo’s brother (who may or may not have been given a time just a little later by Kusuo, the less he has to see him the better).

The party was really just getting started. All your guests were thankful for this time to relax - escaping various parts of their lives, whether it be children, jobs, or other obligations. The atmosphere in the room was so lively and energetic, near-constant laughter as everyone was re-experiencing the joys of their distant high school days. It was clear how much everyone missed each other, the group had grown so close over those years and all of you had hoped that it would stay that way after high-school ended.

Kusuo’s family was catching up in their own right, his grandparents taking advantage of this chance to see their eldest grandson (who had arrived, but Kusuo was doing his best to avoid him). His parents were thankful for the chance too since Kusuke still lived in England. Even that group was vibrant in its own right.

Now that all the guests were happy in their own right, Kusuo had taken to being glued by your side. A lot was going on in the room, and you brought him a tranquil, peaceful feeling. As he was standing near you, while you happily conversed with Kuboyasu and Yumehara, you looked as if you were glowing. He never, ever, forgot why he proposed, but he found himself finding more and more reasons why he was glad he did every day since. There was a small part of him that was looking forward to this announcement. Kusuo was snapped out of his thoughts when you grabbed his hand, gaining his attention.

“Are you okay, Kusuo? I know there must be a lot going on in the room right now. If you need to go for a bit I understand.”

Wow. You must be more perfect than he thought. “I’m okay. Just got lost in thought. Let’s tell them soon, yeah?”

You teasingly smiled up to him, “Someone is excited now, hmm?” you communicated to him through your thoughts, knowing he was listening. His eyebrows went up ever so slightly, “And what if I am?” your smile grew just enough to turn into a small smirk.

“Then I win.” You whispered out loud, but only loud enough for Kusuo to hear. You lightly punched him on the chest, before walking away to talk to some more of your friends. At one point, you even slid into conversation with Kusuo’s family. Recently, you had not really seen most of his family, other than his parents. It was nice to visit with them and see how they were doing.

At some point, the majority of people had made their way into the general seating area, forming one large group. Some were making small talk still and others were just enjoying the environment. You had made your way over, sitting down with everyone else, Kusuo following suit. He held onto your hand while sitting, you could tell he had honestly been enjoying this. Deep down, he did miss his friends.

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Do you think it’s time?”

He didn’t answer right away, thinking about it for a short moment before giving you a curt nod. Not wasting a second, whether it be out of pure excitement or rather making the announcement before Kusuo changes his mind, you were stood up and clearing your throat.

“We have something to share with everyone,” You said we, but Kusuo hadn’t even stood up yet, not that you thought he intended to.

“We’re getting married!”

The room erupted in cheers, you’re pretty sure you even heard Kaidou exclaim “I knew it!” at some point. Either way, so many shouts of congratulations were thrown at the two of you, it was a bit overwhelming. However, the grin never left your face. Kusuo’s mom, grandmother, and brother demanded all the details, his father was congratulating his son, his brother was doing his best to be happy for his baby brother (even if this was yet another “competition” Kusuo won). All of your friends wanted details too. You spared Kusuo’s pride and did not repeat his exact proposal, which had been the cutest thing.

In all the chaos, you were surprised when Kusuo pulled you into a hug and pushed his face into your neck. You felt your shoulder become slightly damp, though chose not to comment on it right now. You subtly rubbed circles on his back, whispering to him about how happy you were.

He lowly whispered as well, using his actual voice to talk to you, “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Kusuo.”

When he pulled back from the hug, he was smiling too. The moment couldn’t have been more perfect for either of you. All the support from your friends and family was immense and amazing, and neither of you would ask for it any differently. This act warranted a small shock from the crowd, they rarely saw him this emotional. He was often only emotional when it came to you.

Dessert was had next, and Kusuo was even less willing to leave your side than before. Tonight, he had finally decided he wanted to celebrate his future with you. He couldn’t be more excited. Everything had gone so well, neither of you would even dream of asking for anything else. Truly, it was perfect. There was so much to look forward to.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo #my writing

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