#anyways….gonna try to sleep here tonight and not be angry but once again it’s difficult

[placeinthisworld]

.

[tastyykpop]

ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ ғᴜɴ

Pairings: winwin x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: dom!winwin, brat!reader, some face slapping, spanking, hair grabbing, degradation, some praising at the end, rough sex, unprotected sex, crying, my sad attempt at writing subspace, aftercare

Synopsis: you try to dom sicheng, until you take it too far and the roles are switched back to normal

"Stay still, sicheng." You growled, gripping the mans chin to make him took at you, "And you call me needy." The eyes staring into his rolled making him scoff.

"You're lucky im even letting you do this." Sicheng placed his hands on your hips that were seated on top of his and toyed with the fabric of your pants.

You swatted his hands away, "Dont touch~" you mocked, just like he always does whenever you aren't on your best behavior. It always made you angry but doing it back gave you a sense of power for once.

"Dont be a brat." With bitterness laced in his voice, he decided to give up and place his hands behind his head to rest against the headboard. "Well," he started, "Are you gonna fuck me or not?" Sicheng raised a simple brow at you before you glared in return.

"Patience. That's what you taught me anyway."

"I also taught you to be good, but looks like you still haven't learned." He clenched his jaw.

Meanwhile you were ignoring him and started unbuckling his pants, easily taking his hard dick out. You smirked as he let out a hiss once the cool air in the room came in contact with it, "So sensitive. Isnt that cute."

Slowly, you moved your hand up and down his cock, purposely making him whine and whimper under you as you teased his slit for your own enjoyment. Sicheng slowly made his way down to where your hand was, grabbing your wrists but not pulling them off. He then threw his head back in pleasure, moaning your name out and saying how good you made him feel. Of course, he had to make your ego grow.

"Theres no way you're a dom," You smiled in a way that made his brows furrow before you spat in your hand and placed it back on his achingly hard cock. Sichengs hips lifted into your hands,, wanting more friction, but you pushed his hips down making him whine, "You're just a whiny little slut."

"Y-you did n-not just call me a whiny s-slut..." he tried his best sounding intimidating, but his voice failed him, creating an almost whimpering sound. "F-fuck, go faster."

"Dont tell me what to do." You stopped and squeezed his cock tightly, just enough to make him tighten his grasp on your wrists and groan from what sounded like pleasure and pain.

"Are you forgetting that I can easily put your ass back in its place?" Sicheng stared into your fiery eyes, anger written all over his face. It was stupid of him to even let you try and top him tonight, but he thought it would be something fun to try. But since you're you, you have to 'act' the part too. This made it way more fun.

"Id like to see you try." You stopped squeezing his cock, letting go of it as well and started taking the rest of your clothes off. Sichengs eyes wondered all around your body, taking in the curves and imperfection that made you look so beautiful and perfect in his eyes.

After removing your clothes, you took a seat back on his lap. Closer to his dick than before so he could feel your hot, dripping cunt.

"Hurry or ill fuck you myself." The man under you was holding himself back, all for your pleasure. You could call that sweet of him, but he did have a low patience level which you tested way too much.

"Maybe if you were a good boy."

Sicheng had to laugh, "Good boy? Why don't you be a good girl and ride me, that would be a start."

What was least expected from you, was a slap to sichengs face. He had to admit, it did startle him but it also unlocked a new level of anger that burned inside him.

"I told you to be patient." You smirked, "Impatient slut."

Sicheng had enough. In an instant, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed you off him. Now, your face was shoved into the bed as your ass was in the air against his hips.

"Didn't I just say I could put you back in your place?" He landed a smack to your ass, causing you to whimper and arch your back, "Answer me before you can't sit for a month."

"Y-you did..." Your hand grabbed sichengs, trying to take them out of your hair. It was stupid, but you tried fighting back for your lost dominance. "Get off me!"

He spanked you again, "You're so fucking annoying, thinking you can tell me what to do. I never should have allowed you to dom me tonight."

It was quick the way sicheng didn't waste time sliding into your wet pussy. You knew he was desperate, but you didn't think he was this desperate to be inside you.

"You-youre still a-..fuck- a fu-fucking s-slut, sicheng." You pushed back, sichengs hand letting your hair fall around your face as he pushed on your lower back.

"Keep talking and I won't hesitate to edge you the rest of the night while I cum in your filthy cunt over and over again."

It was painful the way sicheng pounded into you. In fact, you were about to speak but his hips pistoned so hard that you couldn't dare open your mouth without a moan slipping out.

"Silent now?" He let out a breathy laugh, "Good, thats the way I like my little brat."

Everything felt so perfect, your eyes rolled into your head and you could see stars of pure bliss. Every vein and curve of his thick and long cock, you could feel too. You didn't want him to stop and you were so close yet so far with your orgasm.

"Si-sicheng..i-"

"No, don't even think about it."

But you couldn't not think about cumming. Especially when you felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was was on the edge.

That was when he released and painted your cunt white, but did he stop? Hell no. Sicheng continued pounding into you, tightening his grip on your hip and pushing harder on your back.

"Please i cant.." you cried into the sheets, your small fists balling up. This was so difficult, you couldn't hold it anymore.

The word 'please' spilled from your mouth over and over again like a chant, hoping your boyfriend could hear you begging.

"Fine. Cum."

Right after he spoke, your body shook violently as you came, crying loudly as the feeling washed over you. And almost instantly, after fucking you through your intense orgasm, sicheng slipped out of you letting his and your cum drip on the bed as he took you in his arms.

"Shh baby it's okay, I'm right here." He whispered in your ear, softly brushing against it with his lips. But you were too far gone, still not over the orgasm. "I'm gonna clean you up, okay?" You nodded slowly with tears still rolling down your cheeks, watching with big doe eyes as sicheng left to get a cloth so he could clean everything up.

You came back to your senses when sicheng came back. He was quick, cleaning everything like it was nothing and once he finished, he held you in his arms.

"You did so well, baby." He kissed you cheek, "Did I hurt you though? Did I go too rough?"

Shaking your head with a giggle you spoke, "No, it was fine, but...did I hit you too hard?"

He chuckled, "No, but you did shock me. It was pretty bold of you actually." His hand ruffled your already messy hair before saying, "Now get some sleep." His soft lips kissed yours delicately, "I know you're tired."

It was like he casted a spell, your eyes fluttered closed and soon you saw nothing but black.

[pedrosbish]

space song

word count: 1.6k

warnings: longing, drunk Javier

*female reader x javier*

read part two here

The humidity of the summer heat was almost unbearable, the ceiling fans doing nothing to help the sweat beading on your brow, the sundress you had picked specially for tonight stuck uncomfortably to your skin. But you were glad you had picked it for this occasion and you smirked to yourself as you noticed the brown eyes tracing over your exposed skin. 

Connie had managed to convince you to come out tonight with Steve and Javier, promising it to be a fun girls night but as soon as you arrived, she had made a beeline to her husband and whisked him away to the dance floor leaving you alone with none other than Javier Peña, your co-worker who could be an asshole sometimes and of course the man who you had somehow managed to develop feelings for. 

He was one of the most annoying men you had ever met, and that was saying something when you had to deal with drug cartel members who had the attitude of a pig, but something about him irked you.

On your first day he had gotten you confused with the new secretary, asking for a coffee when you had entered his and Steve’s shared office and calling you ‘sweetheart’. His partner had sniggered behind his cigarette, noting the way your eyes darkened slightly before you moved past him and to the vacant desk that had been squashed into the corner of the room. 

You’ll never forget the satisfaction you felt when you glanced up from the growing pile of files only to see the DEA agent, mouth open and cigarette hanging loosely from it. 

From that moment on, you had hated Javier Peña. 

But somewhere along the lines, you had felt something other than anger and irritation, soon realising that you had a crush on him. It was fucking annoying. He was sleazy, going after anything that had tits and was capable of breathing. He had an unhealthy diet that consisted of smoking cigarettes whenever he could and drinking whisky almost every night.  

He could be sweet, you had to give him that. Once, after a chase that involved you being knocked unconscious with a brick, he had come over to your apartment, a brown bag filled with baked goods (from the bakery you mentioned you liked once) under his arm and a ‘get-well-soon’ balloon in his fist. You would have laughed at the awkward look on his face as he handed you everything if it hadn't been for the tremendous amount of pain you were in. 

The one thing that plagued your mind, however, was the amount of women he had fucked and left, their names and everything about them slipping from his mind as he trudged back to his own bed. He only seemed to remember the ones who were a good lay. And you weren't okay with that. If he couldn't commit to any of them, what would make him commit to you?

You had tried moving on, you really had, but with any man that had managed to ask you on a date was always compared to him. His moustache doesn't look the same as Javier’s, He doesn't look as good in a leather jacket as Javier. He’s not as devoted to his job as Javier. 

He’s not Javier. 

It fucking sucked. You couldn't seem to move on from this one guy, a guy who probably didn't give a fuck about you and only had to put up with you in order to catch one of the biggest drug lords of all time. All of your waking moments and all of your thoughts were filled with Javier Peña. And it made your heart ache that you probably didn't occupy his thoughts at all. 

But you were getting ahead of yourself. This was your night out after all, one that was meant to get your mind off of these thoughts and be filled with dancing and drinking instead. Your gloominess was meant for later, when the rest of the world was quiet and you were in the comfort of your own bed. Alone. 

Unlike the man next to you who was definitely not going to go home alone. You wouldn't be surprised if all of Colombia knew of the man who always managed to get a woman into his bed every day of the week. A woman was hanging off of him, the two locked in a passionate kiss, his hands exploring her curves while hers raked through his hair.

It was hard to watch as it always had been. After a few more moments of quick glances at the pair, you finished your drink and placed it on the bar, pushing off the surface before making your way over to where Connie and Steve were dancing. You didn't have to explain, she could see the sadness on your face.Quick hugs and comforting words were exchanged before you swiftly made your exit, intent on getting into bed and ignoring the rest of the world. 

You hated Javier Peña. But you hated the fact that you loved him even more. 

~~~

You swear you were going to kill whoever was knocking on your door at this time of the night. You had finally managed to fall asleep, the tears drying on your cheeks and hiccups in your throat disappearing as your eyes fell closed. It had been a rough night. 

It took a moment for your brain to register the fact that the Javier Peña, the man you had been crying over for hours, stood in front of your door, eyes drooping as he stared at you, a lopsided grin forming on his face. The smell of alcohol was overpowering and it took everything in your willpower to not slam the door in his face.

"Cariño," he murmurs as he leans against the doorframe, eyes looking you up and down as he takes in the sight of you, arms crossed and a frown on your face. “You left early.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you hesitate on your answer. He probably wouldn't remember this in the morning anyway. “Yeah, well, you were busy and Steve and Connie were...being Steve and Connie.” Shrugging one shoulder, you attempt to hide the hurt evident on your face. “I was bored so I decided to go home.” 

“Could I come in?”

“Oh shit, yeah of course,” you let him move past and watch amusedly as he stumbles his way past you and over to your couch, plopping down onto it and rubbing his hand across the smooth texture. “Let me just get you some water. Y’know, I don't think I've ever seen you this drunk before.”

He hums loudly in agreement and watches as you place the glass in front of him. “Sit with me.”

“I should really get back to sleep and you need to rest,” you say as you smile down at him. “You're gonna have a really bad headache tomorrow.” 

“Please.”

“I shouldn't Javier. Just...go to sleep, okay?”

The next few moments were a blur. You don't know how he managed to do it but Javier had grabbed ahold of your wrist, surprisingly gentle as if you were made out of glass, and leaned up at the same time as pulling you down. It was surprising to feel his soft lips against yours, the hair of his moustache tickling your upper lip, a contented hum escaping his mouth. 

He nipped at your lower lip causing a surprised gasp to escape you, the sound immediately being swallowed by him, making a small smile spread across his face. His thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across the skin of your wrist, goosebumps erupting at his soft touch. 

“Cariño.”

You slowly leaned deeper into the kiss, your heart beating rapidly as he pulled you closer to him. It made you smile, the way he sighed into the kiss, trying to get closer to you. The smell of him was overpowering, addictive, and you slowly realised that you never wanted to be apart from him. He smelled of cigarettes, cologne and whiskey. 

You pull away abruptly, yanking your wrist out of his grasp as you take a step away from him. Tears blur your vision, your chest heaving at a rapid pace as you see him frown at you, immediately moving to get up, to go to you, to comfort you. Holding a hand out, you take another step away from him. 

“You’re drunk Javier. You don't know what you're doing.” 

“I’m sober enough to know that I want this, I want you.”

“Please...just stop. You don't know what you're saying. You-you don't like me that way.” You rub at your head as a shaky breath leaves your lungs, tears burning your eyes. But you quickly wipe them away, licking your lips as you nod to yourself. “We can just forget this happened. In the morning you'll forget this happened.”

You don't wait for him to say anything, your mind already made up as you move towards your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind you. You feel nothing and everything at the same time as you make your way to bed, turning off the lamp. Only then, in the comfort of the darkness, do you let the tears fall down your cheeks.

He watched silently as you left, knowing how stubborn you could be (especially with something like this) and how difficult it would be to convince you that he did have feelings for you. You were different, good, kind, innocent. He sat down on the couch again, head in his hands, feeling angry at himself, angry at the way he had fucked this up. 

He really did want you. 

~~~

read part two here

[scoopsgf]

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it! 

1. 

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

2. 

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

3. 

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

4. 

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it... 

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps. 

[bangtanloverboys]

cock blocked // pjm

summary - after being away from his boyfriend for so long, but jimin just can’t seem to catch a break

pairing - boyfriend!jimin x male!reader

genre - humor, smut; idol au, established relationship au

word count - 2.8k

warning - bottom!jimin, top!reader, switch!jimin, switch!reader, ass groping, making out, hand job, unintentional edging, jimin gets blue balled hard, wet dreams, grinding, thigh riding, jimin gets very very angry when horny

author’s note - normally i don’t do requests but this was too funny to pass up. also i want it to be known that being a bottom doesn’t equal being a submissive. bottom/top/vers dynamics literally just means who gets penetrated (Source 1 & Source 2 ) so i wrote jimin to be more of a switchy bottom to add more humor to it. i hope you don’t mind i did that and i hope you enjoy!

Jimin was pacing the floor of the dorms, impatiently waiting for you, his boyfriend, to arrive. It was the first time in about three weeks that he’s been able to see you and to say he missed you a lot was an understatement. Sure you two called and texted all day everyday, but he was getting needy. To a point where phone sex and sexting no longer felt satisfying, so learning that the other members were out for dinner, leaving him and you in the dorms by yourselves made the reunion that much sweeter. 

Soon as he heard the knock on the front door, Jimin might’ve jumped a foot in the air. He quickly scrambled to the door, swinging it open and pulled you in. Door closed, Jimin pulled you into a needy kiss mainly consisting of tongue and teeth. While Jimin’s hands were knotted in your hair, he felt your hands slide down his sides to his ass where you gave him a quick squeeze.

“Someone’s needy,” you chuckled against his lips.

“Fucking shut up and kiss me, you dick. I missed you.” He pulled you close again. The feeling of your lips on his had Jimin shivering. He felt you slowly prod your tongue into his mouth, sighing he opened his mouth and let you in. With another quick squeeze to his ass, he whined into your mouth. 

“Jump,” you groaned, wanting to move this to the bedroom. 

Without question, he followed your instruction and wrapped his legs around your waist. With your hands supporting him from around his ass, and Jimin’s arms securely snaked around your neck, you made your way towards his bedroom. 

Once in the room, you lowered him onto the bed, your mouth not leaving his for one second. He could feel you grow harder and he ground up against you. He loved knowing he had such an effect on you, reveling on the fact he could get you so worked up in a matter of minutes. 

Pulling away from his mouth, you started pressing kisses and nips down his neck. “Please. . .  please let me fuck you. . .” 

This got Jimin smirking. “Yes, god yes.” He groaned, started fiddling with his belt and you pulled up to start taking off your shirt-

“We’re home!”

Both of your freeze, eyes snapping towards each other. They were back already?!?!

“Jimin? You here?” Namjoon called out from the living room. 

“Yeah, give me a minute!” He shouted back, trying his best to hold back a groan. He looked back at you, seeing you trying your best to hold back your laughter. “This isn’t funny!”

“No. . . it is. . .” You laughed airily as you slowly started combing your hair back to fix your appearance. “Come on, baby. Straighten yourself up.” You slapped his thigh as you moved away from over Jimin. 

Sighing, he sat up and started adjusting himself. Despite cleaning up his hair, there were still fresh hickies scattered along his neck and his dick was unfortunately still hard as a rock. “God this isn’t gonna go away anytime soon. . .” He huffed as he tugged off his T-shirt and pulled on a large oversized hoodie that thankfully hid his boner.

He looked to you where your hand was in your pants, trying your best to readjust your hard on to hide it from view. Jimin tossed you a flannel and told you to tie it around your waist, the sleeves hiding the bulge effectively. 

With both of you straightened up, you left the room and made your way to the living room where the rest of the guys were surprised to see you. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to connect the dots and start laughing. 

“What? What’s so funny, Tae?” Hoseok asked the younger.

“You seriously don’t notice? Look at them, we cock blocked them!” Soon enough everyone but you two were laughing their asses off. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Jimin sneered, although his embarrassment was clear with his red ears. “Anyways, what are you guys doing home so early? I thought you were going out to eat?” Jimin asked once the laughter died down. 

“I mean, we did. But we started getting followed so we decided to get take out and come home.” Jungkook huffed as he held up the take out bags in his arms. “Sorry Y/N, didn’t know you’d be here or else we would’ve got you something.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie! I already had something to eat before I came over.” You waved him off.

The eight of you started settling down in the living room. Jimin sitting down next to you, where you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“Just deal with them for a few hours, we can continue later tonight.” You whispered into his ear, to which had him nibbling on his lip in anticipation. 

As the guys ate, Jimin grew restless as your hands never left him. Drawing circles on his back, squeezing his upper thigh, and pressing more and more kisses to his cheeks. He could feel his bulge harden as the dinner continued, he shifted in his seat, trying to ease the ache between his legs. 

You on the other hand were reveling in teasing Jimin, loving how he was reacting to your touch. Seeing your boyfriend get flustered underneath your touch gave you a high like no other. After the past few weeks of him relentlessly teasing you, now it was your turn to slowly torture him. You watch as you wound up your boyfriend more and more until he stood up, interrupting the conversation that was currently happening.

“We’re going to go to bed now.” Jimin announced then he turned to you, grabbed your hand and started leading you towards his bedroom to the sounds of his bandmates calling after you about not being too loud. 

Door closed, Jimin pushed you onto his bed and crawled on top of you. “Fucking hell, why did you have to tease me like that?” He groaned as he pressed kisses all over your neck and slowly started pulling up your shirt, kissing down your chest. You sighed as he got lower and lower, starting to undo your belt. 

“Because you’re cute when your frustrated.” You chuckled and you brushed the hair from his face. To which he just rolled his eyes and muttered something about you being mean. Jimin got your belt undone but before he could even unbutton and remove your pants, the door busted open. 

Quickly both you and Jimin sat straight up but before you could even see who opened the door, you heard a scream and footsteps running away back towards the living room where you could hear all the guys start laughing. You start joining them in their laughter, finding it hilarious at how they’re now intentionally cock blocking you two. Jimin is pissed and you just don’t find it in you to be mad because it’s too damn funny. 

Fuming, Jimin stormed out to the other guys where they were all laughing and Jungkook was hiding suspiciously behind Namjoon. “Really?” His voice slightly breaking as he shouted. 

“Oh sorry Jiminie! But we-we couldn’t resist!” Seokjin said, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Well, you’ve had your fun so drop it!” Fuming, Jimin stopped back over to his room where you were still laughing at his all. “Please stop laughing, it’s not funny~” He whined as he fell on the bed next to you. 

“Sorry, but again, it is kinda funny.” You said, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. “Why don’t we just watch some Netflix before bed.”

“But I’m hard and I want you to fuck me,” he pouted. He rolled over a bit to be closer to you, to which you just wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer to you. “Can we just go to your place? I don’t know if I can take it anymore~”

“Sorry baby, but my roommate claimed the apartment for them and their girlfriend for the night.” Your roommate was very much a ‘no roommate over when partners are over’ kind of person, so you were stuck here for the night either way. “Now come on, grab your laptop and help me pick a movie.”

Once the two of you settled on an option, about 30 minutes in, he heard the guys slowly start walking down the hallway towards their respective rooms. Hoseok opened the door to the room, he gave a quick tight lipped smile. He stripped himself of his clothes and just climbed right into his bed. Jimin just snickered at his actions and continued watching the movie, turning down the volume a bit to let the elder get some sleep.

However you seemed to have other plans because as soon as Hoseok started letting out quiet snores, your hand started to get closer and closer to Jimin’s bulge. To which his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. “Hoseok-hyung is right there-”

You silence him easily by pressing your lips to his. “Then you should be quiet.” You whispered against his mouth before kissing him once again. 

The kiss was lazy and sloppy, but Jimin was reveling in it. He loved the feeling of your lips against his, welcoming his tongue into your mouth to gently suck on it. It was when you finally started palming him when he broke away from the kiss in a whine. 

“Shhh,” you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of his pants. “Quiet baby.” You squeezed the base of his cock, causing your boyfriend to roll his head back. You pull your hand out from his pants; to which he was about to protest but when meeting your eyes and seeing you lick the palm of your hand and stick it back into his pants, all while keeping eye contact with him, he let out a moan. You smirked as you moved your hand up and down his length. While it was difficult to stroke him within the confines of the cloth, but from the look on Jimin’s face he didn’t seem to mind. The next time your hand went to his tip, you stayed there for a bit. Pressing your thumb over the leaking slit, eliciting more whines to fall from Jimin’s lips. 

“Please. . .let me cum please. . .” He mewled, so desperate to orgasm he started to buck into your hand. As you quickly give his erection another squeeze, you start peppering kisses to the side of his throat, leaving a few hickies in your wake. When you move back up to his mouth, he readily opens his mouth for your tongue to explore. 

The west noises of the kiss and the feeling of his cock in your hands after too fucking long had his head spinning. He wasn’t sure if he was going to last much longer and by the look on your face; you knew that too, so you picked up the pace. It all felt too good, Jimin’s back started to arch off the bed. He was going to-

“Can you please not do this while I’m in the room.” Hoseok’s voice grumbled from the other side of the room. 

Almost immediately you pull your hand from Jimin’s pants and his oncoming orgasm fades away. He was going to kill him. “You couldn’t have stayed asleep for another 5 minutes?” He groaned, covering his face.

“Sorry Hobi.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Thought you were asleep.”

“Oh I was, but Jimin’s ‘nnghh fuck mee’ noises woke me up.” The elder made his voice high and squeaky to imitate him as he tossed back around in his bed. All of the heat rushed to Jimin’s face with embarrassment as you chuckled at Hoseok’s poor imitation, he threw a pillow at him. “Ow! That’s exactly what you sound like!”

Pouting, he just turned into your chest as if to hide from Hoseok. “I’m sorry baby,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. You closed the laptop and placed it on the ground then snuggled close to your boyfriend. “Get some sleep now.”

To say Jimin didn’t get much sleep is an understatement. He barely slept at all. With you next to him, all of his thoughts were you and of you and since he was blue balled: there were no clean thoughts in his mind. He kept tossing and turning until you sleepily wrapped pulled him into your chest, keeping him still for the rest of the night to lie there and think. Think about all the dirty things you could do to him and all the dirty things he could do to you. 

At some point in the night he drifted off, finally managing to catch some sleep. But there was not much difference than his tireless thoughts as his dreams were plagued of you teasing him relentlessly. Tying his hands up so he couldn’t touch you, barely allowing him to even rut against you while you were on top of him. Refusing to let him have any sort of satisfaction. 

“Baby,” your voice vibrated against him.  

He groaned as he continued to rub himself against you in the dream. “Let me cum please. . . ‘ve been. . .so good,” his voice slurred. 

“You can cum if you wake up,” you chuckled as Jimin felt hair get brushed out of his face. Slowly but surely, the veil between dreamland and reality lifted and Jimin realized what was going on. He was grinding against you as he slept, he looked to your face and your pupils were completely blown out. 

For a split second Jimin panicked, whipping his head to look back at Hoseok’s now empty bed. 

“He left a few minutes ago to join the others for breakfast,” you explained. “So we have time.” You lower your head to capture your boyfriend’s lips in another kiss, this time a bit softer. Jimin sighed into the kiss, his hands making purchase in your hair. “Come on baby, you deserve to cum. You’ve been tortured enough.” You slot your thigh between his legs, giving him explicit permission to use you to get off. 

With that he let himself go, grinding his morning wood into your thigh as you flexed it. “God- fuck-” Jimin stuttered out, the friction felt way too good and after being wound up again and again and again with no real release he was about ready to burst after barely a minute in. 

You watched as the dancer moved his hips as he got off on you. You bit and nibbled on Jimin’s neck and collarbones, to which he whimpered and moaned from. “God, the sounds you make drive me. . .insane. . .” you sighed.

“I’m- fuck- I’m close.”

“Yeah? You're so needy that you’re gonna cum after a few minutes?” You smirked at him as he nodded his head furiously. 

“Yes- yes, I-”

“Breakfast is read- OH FUCK!” Namjoon swung the door open and quickly covered his eyes. The mere intrusion had Jimin jumping off of you and once again, he was left with a terrible case of blue balls. And he was pissed about it. 

“I’ve fucking HAD IT!” Jimin screeched and the leader quickly ran down the hall back towards the kitchen as if that would help to escape his wrath. 

“Jimin-” You reached out to your boyfriend, but he ignored you and stormed after Namjoon. Not wanting the entire band to get murdered, you swiftly followed after them, ready to grab and hold him back at any time. 

“Out.” Jimin said as soon as he went in the kitchen, where surprisingly all the members were up and about. 

“Good morning to you too.” Yoongi said as he took a sip of his coffee.

“All of you, get out. Right now.” He said, walking over to the stove where Seokjin was making breakfast and turned it off. 

“Hey-”

“I’ve had it up to here with all of you, get out!” His hands raised high in the air. “Go to one of your apartments, I don’t care but stay out of the fucking dorms!”

“Jimin, take a deep breath-” You started, trying to calm your raging boyfriend. 

“No, Y/N, it’s okay.” Taehyung said, holding out both his hands in defense. “We’ll leave.”

“What?!” Jungkook looked at him and he was promptly flicked on the side of the head. “Ow! Fine. .”

They were going to go to their room to grab a change of clothes at lease before heading to the car, but Jimin wasn’t letting them. “Out now! Go! Go! Go!” He shoved at Yoongi as he was trailing behind the other guys as they made their way to the front door. 

“Please don’t fuck so hard you break something.” Seokjin practically begged as he was shoved out the door. 

“No promises, good bye!” And he slammed the door and locked it. He then turned to you and you froze on the spot, “Now you.” Jimin has never acted in such a way before so this was a new experience for the both of you. “I hope you realize that you’re not leaving here until you’ve fucked me on every. Single. Surface.” He punctuated each word with a step closer to you until you were chest to chest.

“Yes, sir.”

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 9.6k words

Genre: (lots of) smut, angst, final fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome back! I had assumed I would be done with Hobi’s piece in the studio quite soon, however it took me some extra hours. Writing it was extremely difficult! Let me remind you that this is NSFW, so minors, please do not read or interact.

PSA — If you’re interested, I was thinking of making a taglist, so you’ll receive a note on your activity feed whenever I publish a new piece (since I know sometimes app notifications do not work). Also, in the next two or three weeks I’ll be busy with university, so I don’t think I’ll be able to write full one-shots. This means I’ll be posting small drabbles that will help me lay the groundwork for all the filth I’ve been storing away from you (and that I’ve hinted in the masterlist). The polls will stay open and you’ll be able to vote for next prompt, however it will take me a while before I start writing again according to your requests.

This piece is a one shot and it takes place in some indefinite future in the official timeline, shortly after him and Giggles have moved in together (quick reminder, Giggles is the nickname he has given the reader, however if you want to know how I imagined her, you can find her headcanons here). 

Synopsis: Giggles has been a little uncomfortable after she has moved into his apartment, mostly because his job has kept him from going back home. After a week of struggle, she heads to Hoseok’s studio to grab her man with the help of special weapons.

DESCRIPTION AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst at the beginning, reader is upset and cries. Other than that, this is filthy. NSFW, contains several BDSM themes, such as domination (Dom!reader, Switch!Hoseok and a fluffy dose of vanilla sex because I needed to cleanse my soul), rope bondage (wrists), blindfold, sensation play and mild impact play (flogger, hinted riding crop and tickler), pretty intense edging, teasing, oral sex and masturbation (both male and female receiving), squirting, MULTIPLE ROUNDS (it’s Hoseok, come on!). Emotionally challenging: Hoseok feels guilty as hell, reader is quite angry, but they’re both lovesick puppies by the end of it. Special warning: one bratty Jimin appears at the end of the piece.

Word count: 9.6k

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy!!!

——————————————————

A lowfi mix came from behind Hoseok’s door. He was probably just chilling as he worked on something else. It wasn’t uncommon for him to listen to random stuff as he looked for inspiration, especially since he was currently trying to work with a more old school R’n’B vibe. He had a new artist he wanted to collaborate with and this new genre was becoming increasingly challenging, especially since he wanted it to have that early Two-thousand flow, reminding him of that time he had started venturing into Western hip hop, thinking about dates and girls and teenage crushes.

The bag felt a bit heavier on your shoulder now that the music showed you his mindset. This could turn into a very one-of-a-kind type of night.

You knocked at the door. The music turned down a notch, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had heard right.

Hesitantly, shutting your eyes tight, you knocked harder before pressing your hand to your chest, curling around it in fear. Hoseok could be harsh when interrupted: though he usually realised and apologised, seeing him mildly disappointed always gave you a chill down your spine, and not the good one.

His shadow appeared from behind the opaque glass door.

The door unlocked and opened. “Hey, hello there.” His expression was blank for a second before he realised you were quite neutral, as if trying to square yourself before seeing him.

Something caved in your chest. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Hi.”

“Are you coming in?” He asked.

“I only wanted to ask when you’re coming back home.” You said, your lip slightly trembling.

He blinked.

“I’ve texted you and called you, but you didn’t reply.”

He blinked twice. “What time is it?”

You exhaled and made to turn around and walk away.

“Giggles.” He called, chasing after you and catching you in his arms, backhugging you. “Baby.”

“No. I’m done with baby and all of that. I’m fucking done.” Tears started falling. Your plan had gone to hell. All your mental briefings and getting yourself in the right mindset were useless by now. The bag made you feel twice as frustrated. “I am tired, Hoseok.”

That made him feel like a scolded puppy. You had never uses that tone with him, never used his full name while scolding him.

“I am tired.” Now that your first tear was spilled, all the others came out without any control. “I am exhausted.”

He pressed you harder into him. “I promise it will end soon.” He smiled as he saw you turn and hide into him.

“I am tired of your promises. You made me move in and then disappeared for a week straight. I don’t know where I can put my stuff, I had to handle transport, to talk with my landlord, to do everything by myself. And I’ve been doing double shifts all week. I am raw with exhaustion and I’ve had absolutely zero support.” You sobbed, pressing your pointer finger into his chest, before laying your punch against his breastbone, angry and tired and accusing. “You were supposed to be my certainty but you gave me fucking nothing.” He flinched when he heard you swore. You never swear at him. The fact that you’ve done it twice in the same argument spoke volumes about how angry you were. “You were supposed to give me certainties. But you don’t even answer to my texts.” You punched him weakly. “I hate you so much.”

Now he was worried. Heavily worried. Anxious. “Let’s get in the studio, ____. Come on, love.”

“I don’t want to come in.”

He shook his head, tipping your chin back. “I said, come in.”

“You don’t get to order me around, Hoseok. Not like this. I’ve been doing everything you’ve asked me. I’ve been saying ‘yes, sir’ to every single one of your requests and look where that brought me.” You shoved your face away, out of his grasp.

He cupped your face with both hands. “Look at me.” He ordered. He tried again, softening his voice, panicking as you strongly opposed. “Look at me, little bird.”

You obeyed. It was the fucking nickname’s fault.

“Come in with me. I want to talk about this, make up for my mistakes.” He dried your tears with his thumbs. “I want you to tell me how to fix this. What you want me to do.” He combed your hair back with gentle fingers. “You say I keep ordering you around, and that has made you unhappy. I want to turn the tables. Let you order me what to do.” He started taking tiny steps backwards, toward his door, waddling with you in your arms. “This is the last time I beg you to do what I’ve asked you, for tonight. After this you’re absolutely free, Giggles. It’s all up to you, but please, let’s talk it out in my studio.”

You sniffled. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He smiled weakly.

You followed him.

The studio was clad in soft lights, the bass of the song making the air in the room feel like a warm, inviting, sultry cocoon. He moved to the desk, making the music nothing but a quiet whisper. “Let’s sit on the sofa over there, yeah?” He sat down and patted the cushion beside him.

Reluctantly, you sat down, removing your jacket and placing the bag beside you, on the floor.

“I made a mistake. I didn’t support you. I am sorry. I’ve been busy with my job but that is not an excuse, nor a good reason to disappear while you’re struggling.” He admitted.

“I’ve been sleeping in that bed alone for a week. It was heartbreaking.” You said with a furrowed brow and a pout. “It hurt so much that sadness became anger.”

He combed his hair with his hands. “I fucked up.”

“You did.” You confirmed. “I can handle a bit of loneliness. I’ve been alone for a long time. But that hurts inside your house.”

“It’s our house now.” He argued, deeply unhappy.

“Is it now?” You accused.

You saw his expression turn hurtful. “Are you going to leave?” He said, afraid that that would be his punishment. He knew there would be a price to pay, he just hoped it wouldn’t cost him his whole happiness with you.

“I can’t handle it now. Plus I don’t have much choice. It’s either there or my parents but I can’t move out of the city and do double shifts at work.” You said. “I’m stuck here because I trusted you. Because I gave up all my alternatives for you. You told me to trust you, that I could count on you. What am I going to do now?”

You looked so broken. He felt his eyes well with tears. His voice came out shaky. “Tell me what to do. Anything.”

“You’re gonna do what you want anyways.” You said, a bit hostile.

“No. Please, can you tell me what to do?” He tried to hold your hand. You let him.

“I want you home tonight.” You said, naming your price.

“Okay.” He felt ready to do anything. If you asked him to fly all the way to Paris and bring a box of macarons, champagne and fresh red roses, he would simply whip his phone out and look for the next flight. Fuck, he would teach himself how to fly a plane if need be.

“I want you home every night for the next week. I want dinner together.” You said, punching your index finger into your thigh. “You can use your home studio after dinner, I don’t care, you can stay up all night, but I swear if I have to fall asleep one more night alone in that damn bed, I’m going to gut you.”

“Okay.” He hadn’t come back home because he knew that having you around would mean getting no work done, as he much preferred giving you attention and laying down with you, watching a movie or putting to good use that big bed of his.

“And I want cuddles.”

“Yes, love.”

“Daily cuddles.”

He smiled as you contested like a child. “Yes, little bird.”

“And I want sex at least once a week for the next month.” You said, knowing that you could have much better than that, but you were aiming at the bare minimum.

“Once a week?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“At least.”

That had him nodding. “Can do.”

“Pinkie promise.”

He smiled wider, hooking his pinkie with yours. “Pinkie promise.” As you pressed your thumbs together, sealing the deal, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “What now? Can I hug you?”

“No. Go lock the door.” He looked at you dubious.

“Lock it.” You repeated.

He stood up and obeyed. “Now what?”

The negotiation had set you back into your original path. You had come for revenge and you were ready to execute it. “On your chair.” He was going to see how it feels to be powerless. Lost. Alone.

His heartbeat started increasing. He wanted to see where your plan was going to take him. He sat on his chair. “Here.”

“Close your eyes.” Your voice shook a little. You cleared it and said again: “Close your eyes, now.”

He bit his lip. He was getting turned on. A part of himself asked him how sick he must be for this, but he followed your lead, closing his eyes and laying his hands on the armrests. “Are you going to punish me?”

You shook your head before realising that he couldn’t see your movements. “I am going to do as I please.”

He snickered.

“Quiet.” You warned quietly.

He licked his lips and regained his composure. “Sorry.”

You bent and opened the bag. You found your first bundle and started unraveling it, walking back and forth in front of the sofa, stopping with your back to him.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

“Do I look like I am joking?” You replied from over your shoulder.

“Okay.” He undressed quickly, letting his clothes fall to the floor. “Do you want me to...”

“Quiet.” You repeated. 

He closed his eyes and bent his head down. He was naked on the chair, unsurprised by his own erection.

You took a few steps towards him. As soon as you reached him, you gave him further instructions. “Do not open your eyes. I am going to touch you but if you open your eyes, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Wait.” Hoseok murmured. “How are you feeling now?”

You stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Are you angry at me?” Hoseok asked, his voice meek, hesitant, unhappy. “I’ve never seen you like this. I’m worried.”

You couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t tie him up and torture him to tears, break him like that. Even though you really wanted to.

“I’m angry a bit, yes.” You replied. You exhaled, waiting in silence.

“I don’t think we should be doing this, then.” He suggested quietly. “I’ll be honest. You’re scaring me a little.”

You placed the rope on top of the desk, out of his angle of vision. “Open your eyes”, you said, placing your hands on his cheeks. His stare met yours. “What if I tell you my plans and you tell me if you’re okay with it?”

He pressed his face against your belly, kissing it. “I’m so sorry.” He nuzzled into your shirt. “I feel so bad.”

You moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair. “This is how I’m helping you with your guilt.” You massaged his shoulders. “I want to take care of you. You must have been so stressed here.”

“I’m the one at fault. I should be the one taking care of you.” He said with big puppy eyes. He looked up at you with his chin propped against your stomach.

“You can take care of me by letting me take the lead. Right now I need to feel like I can control something.” You traced his lips with your thumb, your index finger tracing the ridge of his nose with its lovely curve.

“Then control me.” He said, puckering his lips around your thumb.

“Are you still scared of me?” You asked.

“I’m scared of you going too far or pushing myself too far to please you.” He confessed. “But it’s something unconscious. I know I can trust you.”

“Still, I could tell you my plans.” You suggested sweetly.

“I trust you.”

“You don’t have to do stuff you don’t feel like doing just to please me.” You reminded him politely.

“That’s why we have safewords. When I don’t feel good I’ll use them.” He said, matter-of-factly. “They’re not there only for you.” He smiled.

You were quite curious about how his nakedness seemed to unfaze him. But then again, after more than a year together, at this point nakedness in front of each other felt natural.

“Don’t push yourself just to please me.” You scolded him.

“I won’t. If I don’t feel good, we stop and I’ll make love to you.” He stated plainly.

You thought about it. After all this time you knew Hoseok’s limits and insecurities. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He settled back into his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. He closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

His chest was so skinny. It felt like staring at a hummingbird. “Are you keeping your eyes closed or would you like a blindfold?”

He smiled. “Kinky.” He breathed out. He paused. “Blindfold.”

You smirked and grabbed it from your backpocket. You already knew he would have chosen to wear it. “I will touch you now Hoseok. Let’s see if you can recognise it.” You stretched towards the rope on his table, keeping it rolled up and brushing it gently against his face.

“Oh.” He rubbed his cheek against it, pressing his lips and then parting them to use his tongue. “I’m getting tied up, aren’t I?” He asked.

“Would you like to?” You asked. Blindfolded and tied up was always a daring combination. You had first done it for his birthday, but back then you hadn’t intended to overstimulate him to tears. That time you had simply used your advantage to give him the ride of his life, physically restraining him from taking control and straining himself to please you. The bondage technique had helped you keep him still long enough to relax. After almost literally sucking him dry, you had managed to ride him, watch him come apart for the fourth time and see him fall asleep like a kid at your side, not a care in the world. It had been a wildly satisfying experience.

“Are you going to use me like last time?” He asked, eyes still closed but his hands reaching out for you.

“Not really.” You commented. “I was thinking of something… softer? So to say.” You bit your lip. He couldn’t see your devious smile anyway.

“I’m interested.” He said, blindly running his hands down your thighs. “Tell me what to do.”

Clutching the rope between your thighs, you used one hand to comb his hair and trace the lovely lines of his face. “I’ll put the blindfold on you now, Hoseok. Is that okay, handsome?”

“Yes.” He said, his cheeks twitching with a small smile.

Putting a blindfold on someone else is a lot more difficult than it seems, however you managed to press the wide silken mask against his eyes, hooking the elastic band with your fingers and slipping it behind his head. “Is it safe?”

“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, turning his head in an attempt to kiss your wrist. You noticed the gesture and offered him your hand, brushing the back of it against his cheek. He managed to press his lips to your knuckles. “I love you.”

You bent down and let your lips hover over his. “Can you feel me?”

“So close.” He whispered. Sometimes he had this sixth sense, like his body — so used to perceive himself in time and space while dancing — had this special sensibility to closeness. Depriving him of sight made it look even more supernatural. It made you feel like he could perceive you spiritually. It felt religious. Metaphysical. You had missed this connection and you had been craving it for a while.

“Can you kiss me, Hoseok?”

He licked your lips in reply, his mouth hanging open, his lower lip brushing against yours so sensually that you envelopped it in yours, sucking.

He moaned, your eyes closing as you felt your body reach another level of arousal. It felt extraordinary. It felt like you were making love to your own body through his nakedness and arousal. Feeling this wanted, exploiting this bond between the two of you, the way your body mirrored his sensations, it was stronger than anything you had ever experienced.

You let go of his lip. “I’m gonna start tying you up now. This is the right moment to stop me, bub.”

“Keep going.” He said, his voice slightly gravelly.

“Okay.” You moved around the chair, studying how to use your prop smartly.

You noticed two thin metal tubes connecting the headrest to the back of the chair. Interesting. You unravelled your bundle of rope and found the middle quickly thanks to the mark placed there.

You remembered Hoseok coming back home with a big box, placing it on top of the coffee table as you were chilling on the sofa. “I want it cut, marked and hemmed by nine o’ clock.” He had said, voice dark, as he offered you a sewing kit and a fabric meter. “You’ll find instructions in the box.” He kissed your head as you sat on the floor and opened the box, dumbfounded. “I can’t use it tonight, but I’ll reward you if you do a good job.” Inside there was one entire spool of rope: the tag read “a hundred meters - pure cotton”. You spent the rest of the evening attending to your chore. Once you were done, you went knocking at Hoseok’s door. He spent the rest of the night repaying you for your fine accomplishment.

“Can you place your hands on your nape” You asked, noticing that he did so immediately.

“Thank you.” You chirped as you started tying him up, placing two fingers between his skin and the rope to make sure you didn't tighten too much. The position was delicate since his blood circulation could be affected by his forearms being upside down, tying the knot too tight would inevitably mean worsening the situation.

Once his wrists were safely secured to the small steel tube, you checked on him. “Is it good, bubs? Too tight?”

“I'm good, thank you, Giggles.” He replied.

“I’m going to grab my bag quickly. I’ll be a few steps away for a couple seconds, bubs.” You said, making sure that he didn’t panic as you stepped away.

A sultry, suggestive song came on, a slow Nineties hip hop track. It was inspirational, especially as you picked up your bag and placed it on top of his desk, near you and his chair, making sure that you wouldn’t need to leave him alone for longer than a couple seconds. Any person with a sliver of common sense would understand it is an awfully bad idea to leave someone bound, blindfolded and unguarded.

You stood in front of him with your hands behind your back and bent to his ear. “I’m here.” You murmured before standing up and dragging your nails down his neck and chest, stopping right at his stomach without neglecting his nipples, circling around them a couple times. He looked delicious, his cock hard and leaking on his lower abs. You observed the twitching of his slim shaft, the lovely curve of it, the taunting pink of his tip glimmering with wetness.

Teasingly, biting your lip, you gathered some of his precum on your fingertip, his lips parting with a purring sound.

“Giggles, please.” He whined.

You smiled as he exhaled, his mouth hanging open, and you deviously slipped your fingertip past his lips.

“Can you taste how turned on you are, Hobi?” You murmured, pressing your digit against his tongue.

He bit down playfully before twirling the tip of his tongue around your finger.

Giggling, you removed it.

“Does it tickle?” He asked.

You licked your lip. “Maybe.”

He shook his head just as you punished his disrespect with a gentle slap on his cheek. “You’re in no position to play games, Hoseok.”

He regained his composure. “Sorry.”

You shook your head yourself, standing up and moving behind him. His sides were vulnerable with his hands tied up and behind his head. You started thinking how you could use this against him. For now you simply decided that his inner forearms were normally sensitive enough to be a good starting point. He always started from your inner forearms. Drawing lines and twirls with your nails, you saw him shiver, his mouth gaping.

“You’ve moved.” He murmured, his fingers wiggling as he searched for contact, giving up once he noticed there was no chance. Daring and playful, you tickled his palms, moving so quickly that he didn’t manage to grab you.

His inner upper arm was even more sensitive, however touching it would mean that he would probably be able to touch you back. You could use something to reach out. You stood back, circling around the chair. It was a lot more complicated now. You had thought that seeing him like this would immediately tell you what you wanted to do to him. You had packed a variety of supplies in case sudden inspiration struck you, but now your lack of planning and your excess of toys confused you even more.

You had him naked and tied up to a quite limiting armchair. You knew your goal was to stimulate him as much as possible, listen to his pretty whines and watch him grow more and more desperate. Get him turned on out of his mind. Surprise him.

Kneeling, you patted his knees with your palms. “Open up.”

He inched his hips forward, his torso slouching against the back of the chair, his thighs parting further. “More?” He asked.

“Perfect.” You said, kissing his knees.

“Oh, you’re gonna do it like the other time?” He asked, bucking his hips up and slouching further. “You wanna blow me?”

You smiled, sending a cold breath running up his inner thigh.

His moan followed like a tide, like sunlight chasing the horizon at sunset.

You mirrored the gesture on the other leg, satisfied with the effect you had just elicited. “Do you want me to?” You asked, referring to his proposition.

“Your choice, Giggles.” He murmured, his reply melting into a ‘fuck, yeah’ as you licked up his thigh.

He could imagine your bubblegum pink tongue against the pale skin of his inner leg, your eyelids fluttering closed as you brought your tongue closer to his cock.

He had the softest baby hair on his inner leg. You wondered how it could be so thin and soft. Once you reached his crotch, you parted your mouth from his skin, your hot breath fanning on the sensitive head of his cock. Making sure that your hair was out of the way, you kissed the skin of his abdomen following the shadow that his sex projected on his belly. The point was that of being that close but not touching him.

It turned a bit more difficult when his hips jerked in an attempt to connect his cock with your lips while you sucked a love bite right on top of where his tip was laying. You moved back. “Stay still, Hoseok. Don’t make me tie up your legs too.” You warned. He huffed out a strained breath and shivered as you continued your trip down the other side with small kisses, finally licking down the other thigh, sitting back on your heels and placing a sweet peck on his knee. Now that his whole crotch area, thighs and abs were wet, blowing cold air all over him was even more fun, your lips directing your breath on different parts, making him try to escape your evil attentions.

“Giggles, you’re so bad.” He mewled, a tiny, desperate laugh underlining his sentence.

Your hands reached the base of his feet, your nails dragging against the natural crease at the center of his foot.

“It tickles.” He said, his legs jumping up as he tried to escape that sensorial torture.

“No touching you there?” You asked, eyebrows curving upwards in wonder. “Okay.”

He planted his feet firmly on the base of his office chair. “Please.” He said.

“It’s okay, Hobi.” You replied sweetly. His dancer feet were too sensitive for that and you’d rather avoid him moving too much and possibly falling from the chair. “How are you feeling?” You asked, standing up. You were at a crossroad. From his answer depended the rest of the evening.

“I’m doing great. This feels incredible, Giggles.” He smiled, complimenting you.

“Are you down for a level up?” You asked.

He nodded. “I’m curious.”

“Choose a number from one to three.” You asked him, your voice bubbly.

“What is it?” He asked. He was afraid of the consequences. Was it going to be the number of times he was allowed to cum? Or maybe something else?

“Just a game, Hobi. Choose a number.” You repeated.

A bit hesitant he said: “Two.” He said. Like us, he thought. He kept the idea to himself, thinking it cheesy. Plus two was halfway. Nothing bad can happen if you stay halfway, right?

You raised your eyebrows and considered cheating. He would never know. You had really prepared three toys and numbered them, however, out of the three objects you had prepared, number two was the one that scared you the most, convincing yourself to pack it just in case he flipped and took the lead. Hoseok could be extremely powerful with that tool in hand and it was probably your favourite accessory for him to use on you.

Unfortunately — or maybe very fortunately — it was you who had to control it tonight.

With quite some courage, you pushed your hand into the bag, finding the handle and gripping it tight as you extracted the black leather device from the bag. The tails of the flogger met your skin gently, caressing it with their delicate, velvety touch. Each tail was made of suede, giving a special feel to the touch. He had never openly admitted how expensive it was, but you knew it was a lot.

As your dominant hand held the handle, the other toyed with the tails, gripping them and wrapping them around your fist; looking at Hoseok, you started thinking where to start.

Easy.

His inner arms were there, pale, slender and so sensitive. “Can you feel me?” You asked, bending down, your breath tickling the free skin of his wrists.

“Yes.” He commented. “Behind my back. You’re so close but I can’t reach you.” He whined, struggling a little against the rope.

“Are your hands okay? Is the knot too tight?” You checked.

He breathed out. “Yes, I’m okay. Thank you.” He stilled on the chair since he realised he couldn’t touch you.

“My pleasure, Hoseok.” You replied, spurring him on a little. “Would you like me to tell you what’s the number you chose?”

He thought about it, but he realised that most of the arousal he was experiencing was because of the complete unexpectedness of each sensation. “Surprise me.”

You smiled, running the butt of the handle against his upper arm, teasing the top of his armpit. He shivered adorably, the sensation making his arm tingle with goosebumps.

“How does it feel?” You asked, curious.

“Wicked. But also interesting.” He replied, shivering again as you repeated the gesture on the other side. “Very sensitive.”

“Can you guess what it is?” You asked, gripping the flogger from where the tails met the handle, leaving the underside of the shaft free to press against his lips. He sniffed it. “Leather.” He sniffed some more. “Your hand lotion. Is it the handle of something?” He asked, dragging his cheek against it.

In the meanwhile you made sure that the tails were wrapped tight around your fist so that they wouldn’t give you away. “Maybe.” You replied, removing the object from his face and unwrapping the suede straps from your other palm, keeping the toy away from him. You trapped all the tails back, leaving only one out. That’s how to start.

Hoseok, momentarily blinded, kept thinking of what the object could possibly be. “Is the number connected to what you’re using now?”

“Yes. Each number meant a toy. I’m using number two right now.” You said, letting that single string drag from the small hollow between his collarbones down to his belly button. Your small hand struggled around the instrument, however your nerves helped you keep a tight grip.

“You have more than one?” He asked, moaning as the tail tickled the base of his cock. “What the hell is it?” He said, thrusting his hips upward. “Fuck, please.” He murmured, as you teased his balls. You grinned. “It’s the riding crop, uh? You love that one.” He murmured, just as you moved your hand far from his body, letting the tails fall free before snapping your wrist, making the strings swish.

Hoseok listened to the noise attentively, however the background music kept him from properly identifying the sound. “Is it something we have used before?”

You hit your palm again, softly, knowing that the hip hop track was going to make the toy unrecognisable. As you stood in front of his face, you leaned down and snapped it once more, making sure that he would feel the air move as the tails slapped your hand. Doing it this delicately made it feel almost pleasurable against your skin.

“Yes, we’ve used it before.”

You stood up again, letting the tails hang low. Noticing his length dripping in wetness, you snapped the toy once more against your palm, still far from his skin, simply producing an air current.

“Dammit, please, I just wanna cum.” He cried out.

“Guess my toy and I’ll reward you.” You teased.

He whimpered. “Come on, we’ve tried at least twenty together.” He lamented. “And you’ve given me so little.”

“Then let me give you more.” You giggled, This time you took a deep breath. Courage. You wanted him to hear it for real, not the caressing sweeps, but the harsh, punishing ones he usually delivered. Maybe those would sound more familiar. Exhaling, you hit your clothed thigh. You moaned: it could feel so sweet in your own hand, when you could control it and with the barrier of your jeans.

“It’s leather, I’m sure.” He commented.

You snapped once more, your cunt clenching, wetness making you feel uncomfortable between your thighs as you noticed him flinch at the sound. “Are you sure it’s leather, Hoseok?”

When he heard the third smack, he went insane. It felt unreal to be there, to wait for a hit that wouldn’t come, or even worse to be deep in thought, so close to the answer, but to be brought back to reality with the swishing and clicking sound of whatever it was you were holding. “If you say it like that, I’m not sure.”

Grinning, you let the tails hover over his skin, tickling the air around them, charging his skin with goosebumps. He felt electric. “Is this helping you?” You asked, letting the suede skim his skin.

“Oh. So you’re using my weapons against me...” He wondered just as your free hand cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. He was being too cocky anyway. His following moan decisively toned down his arrogance.

“Sorry.” He whined. “Please.” He moaned while your hand pushed the flogger away, your torso bending forward as you stretched to lick the tip of his cock, collecting the hot droplet of cum he had just spilled. “____, I’m begging, please.”

“Please what?” You murmured against his abdomen.

As he began talking you sucked the smooth head of his dick into your mouth, listening to him stammering and moaning in an attempt to speak. With a sweet stutter he cried out. “Wanna cum. Please.”

You released his sex. “You know the rules. Guess the toy and I’ll let you cum. Don’t make me say it again.” You stood straight and moved the flogger back between his legs, the tails teasing his inner thighs. “How come you haven’t recognised it yet?” You teased.

“It’s a tickler.” He moaned. “The one with the feathers.” He huffed out, just as you caught once more the tails in your palm, wrapping them around your hand and moving your grip, freeing the butt of the handle.

“No, love. I’m sorry.” You said, feigning discontent, but secretly grinning.

He cried out. “Oh, come on, what is it!” He growled, his voice sliding into a whimper as you sucked one of his balls into your mouth.

“Fuck it, Giggles. Please.”

He had said ‘please’ at least four times tonight, that you remembered. Maybe even more. You sucked harder.

“Love your mouth, baby,” he rambled, his sanity long forgotten in the unpredictable events of the evening. He felt his guts tightening, his abs clenching. “So good. Shit.”

As you spotted the telltale pulsing in your mouth, you let go of him.

“No, please. Please.” He begged. It was your favourite word on your lips. When he begged. When he begged to lick you, to let him make you squirt, to slap your delicate breasts, to fuck your mouth, to change position ‘just one more time’, to let him ram into you for the third, fourth ride even if you were tired and overstimulated, your brains only capable of telling him yes because you were too fucked out, too greedy, too in love with him to ever deny him.

“You made a dumb guess, Hobi. How can a tickler make that sound? You heard the smack, before, didn’t you.” You pressed the butt of the toy against his shaft, delicately, dragging it up and down in a very upsetting imitation of a handjob.

He keened as several drops of cum bubbled up from his slit and dribbled down his cock.

“You’re so turned on, uh?” You snickered, teasing him ruthlessly. “You’re barely coherent.”

He couldn’t wrap his head around how his sweet, sparkly, submissive Giggles, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his precious jewel could turn into such a sadistic, cruel creature.

He had probably ruined you.

He was almost glad. Proud of you.

“Giggles, love. Please, have mercy, baby. You can’t hurt me. You love me.” He murmured, trying to convince himself.

You let him breathe, moving the handle away from his sensitive sex.

“I love you. That’s why I need you to recognise the toy.” You cooed. “You’ve heard how it sounds, and felt how it feels. You can do it, bubs.” You bent to his mouth, letting your lips linger over his.

“It swishes and smashes, but it’s a dry, light smash. Not a paddle. Not a tickler, and not a riding crop either. It’s either a cat-o-nine-tales or a flogger.” He murmured.

“Good boy.” You praised him. “What is it, then Hoseok?”

He felt insane. The moment he realised it was one of the two, he started imagining you holding one, getting even more turned on at the thought. “Use it on me.” He asked. “Please.” He could almost see you, your small figure, your tiny hands wrapped around the thick leather base, the cute flinch on your face as you whipped the tails against your thigh. “Use it on me.” He wished he could see you for real. He just needed you to do it once, to be comfortable to eventually do it again, someday — possibly within the next month — to see you actually use the flogger on him. He felt like going insane.

You frowned. You weren’t skilled enough for using it like that.

Whipping yourself over your clothes was one thing, but hitting him? Naked? Tied up? No. You told him.

“I can’t, Hoseok.”

“Please.” He cried out. “I trust you.” He said, quietly reassuring you. “Place me so that the front of my thigh is free, and direct the blow across my thigh, towards the outer side.”

You breathed a couple times. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He cried out in relief.

Following his directions, you placed him correctly on the chair, his thigh hanging midair. With your back to him, you murmured quietly “Ready?”

He simply breathed out a ‘yes’.

His cry was immediate. “Oh god, Giggles. Fuck.” You had been heavy handed, still he hadn’t perceived the bite of the small silver balls that his cat-o-nine-tales sported. “Flogger.” He moaned. “Wanna cum, please.”

You immediately dropped the flogger on top of his table. “That’s right, bubs. You’ve been a very good boy.”

He pushed his hips upward. “Your mouth, please.” He begged. “Inside.” He sobbed.

You undressed quickly, your shirt coming off in a second and your jeans following right after. With only your panties on, you kneeled on the floor, not quite making yourself noticed.

“Where are you?” He cried out. “Giggles?”

“Here.” You called. “Between your legs.” You kissed his knee. “You look beautiful, Hoseok. So damn beautiful.” Your mouth climbed up towards his lap, quick and practical, your tongue drawing a line of saliva up his thigh. “I’ll give you thirty seconds. If you don’t cum at that, I’ll stand up, take off your blindfold and touch myself while your hands are tied. Got it?”

He whimpered.

“Got it?” You asked again. 

“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, as composedly as possible.

“Good.” You said, before swallowing him.

He groaned, pushing his hips up towards your face. His chair rolled back a bit, but thankfully you grabbed the armrests and managed to secure it.

With wicked intentions you pulled him out, rolling the chair away so that the back sticked to the edge of his desk, keeping it from moving. “Count to thirty for me, Hoseok.”

You didn’t give him time to reply, sinking back onto him.

“One,” he whimpered as you used your hands to stroke the parts you couldn’t take into your mouth.

“Oh, two.” He groaned, pushing some more. You pinched his thigh, reprimanding him for his thrust.

He jumped at that before he cried out a three, panting heavily. “I’m gonna cum.”

Again you pinched.

“Three.” He said with a shrill.

By the count of nine, his hips got impatient, thrusting into you some more, but — lucky him — you felt merciful and disregarded his disobedience as you started to bob your head, before hearing him breathe louder and faster. “That’s it. Giggles, fuck. Love it. So good. Love you.” He managed to babble before he came apart.

You simply stayed there, eyes rimmed with tears, holding your breath as his cum kept spilling inside you. It took him five or six shots before he stilled, empty and spent. Oxygen felt like a blessing once you pulled him out, his tip resting on your tongue. Both your and his breathing were heavy and rushed as you removed your head from his lap and tested it against his thigh.

“Wanna see you, Giggles.” He murmured, his voice hoarse after all the moaning and growling and panting. “Take off the blindfold, baby.” He asked, ready to take control. You were the one who needed attention right now.

“Just a minute.” You murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his leg and closing your eyes.

“Now, Giggles.” He ordered with some urgency.

With a deep sigh, you stood on your knees, stretching towards his face to take off the silk band from his eyes. It took a couple attempts because you couldn't reach perfectly, however you finally managed to uncover him, his eyes immediately focusing on you.

“Hello, little bird.” He said, his tone already sporting that sardonic, telltale undertone. He was going for revenge.

A fearful wave rolled down your spine.

“Hi, Hoseok.” You replied, a bit hazed.

“Can you untie me, little bird? Please?” He asked, but his plea didn't hold the previous submission. This was simply a polite request. “I know you’re tired, pretty thing. Just untie me, I’ll take care of you, I promise, angel.” He said, spotting the way you looked at him like a scared wild animal. “I can’t even cuddle you right now.” He wiggled his wrists. “It hurts like hell to see you this vulnerable and not being allowed to cuddle you, little bird.” His voice expressed affection now, his mood completely changed after he had seen you: the discomfort of your treatment was still fresh but he couldn’t bring himself to torture you back after seeing you curled up between his legs.

You kissed his thigh a little helplessly before whining as you stood up.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised you with a quiet voice.

Undoing the knot was extremely easy. You liked using knots that were simple to undo once you released the safety hook — a reasonable amount of rope strategically tucked into the knot that once tugged simply makes the rope fall to the ground. Hoseok was usually reasonable enough not to untie himself, which meant you could still untie him easily even when your body was tired and your mind felt fuzzy.

When the rope fell to the ground, Hoseok stood still, holding position. Once he jammed a knot because he moved too early and you sulked at him for a week because he made you cut the rope into three unusable lengths. “May I?” He asked.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

He immediately turned the chair so that he was facing you. His arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight as you stood between his legs.

“You’ve been so good, Giggles. You’ve been perfect, little bird.” He pulled you into him, making you sit on his lap. “How are you feeling, dove?”

“A bit unsettled.” You admitted. “Strange.”

“What got into you?” He asked, smiling as he stroked your cheek. “You were devilish, pretty thing.”

“I don’t know. I think I was inspired.” You admitted, sinking into his neck, nuzzling into the curve below his ear.

“How did you feel with the flogger?” He asked, caressing your spine gently. He felt soft for you. To hell with revenge, he’d much rather make love to you. Show you all his appreciation for the scene you had staged, your spirit of initiative and the courage you had displayed in taking the lead with the flogger.

“I liked it. It felt new and strange.” You admitted, your arms connecting behind his neck, your hand combing the hair at his nape. “It felt different from when you do it.”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“It’s not just the role reversal. I felt more confident because I called the shots. I manoeuvred it, so it didn’t feel like I was waiting for it to hurt. The excitement was different.” You kissed his jaw.

Hoseok turned, using his bangs to tickle your cheek. You giggled meekly. “It’s all about having the power to do the unexpected. See how far the other person allows you to go.” He kissed your neck. “I like using it on you because you’re always so soft afterwards. You’re super needy and cuddly and I like assisting you like that.” His hand moved to your side, caressing you reassuringly before his hand ventured under the waistband of your panties, rubbing your ass. “And seeing how far you let me go with the scene makes me see how much you trust me and love me. It’s hot but also cute and affectionate.” He pulled his hand out, dragging it up, skimming your side and cupping your breast, his skilled fingers toying with your nipple. “Do you want me to take care of you?” He asked, his index finger hooking under your chin and pushing your face up, to look at him.

You looked up at him from under your lashes, pouting and giving him the best impression of puppy eyes.

He smiled at you. “What?” He said, with a small chuckle, booping your nose.

“I want your mouth.” You said, biting your lip.

“Where.” He asked, rubbing your tummy, his fingertips toying with the waistband of your panties.

You looked down at your crotch, licking your lip and rolling your eyes coquettishly. “Down there, sir?”

He laughed and bent to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Want me to eat you out, little bird?” He snarled and bit your round, fluffy cheek. “Eat you alive?” He asked, holding you tight as he repeatedly sunk his teeth on the fat covering your cheekbone. “Such a naughty girl!” He said, tickling your sides.

Your laugh bubbled up your throat, exploding in a fit of giggles.

“That’s it. The most beautiful sound on the face of earth.” He calmed down once he noticed your short breath. “I love you, ____.” He reminded you.

You smiled so wide your eyes closed. “I love you too.” You stretched your neck to reach his mouth. His lips parted for you, the tip of his tongue drawing the seam of your lips as you disclosed them for him. The kiss was demanding, as usual. The hard, teasing strokes he delivered with the tip of his tongue gave way to a tango of thrusts and twirls, a mind blowing game of flight and chase, small clashing of teeth and sucking bruises onto each other’s lips. You didn’t even know how much time had passed before he gripped your waist, pushing you up. “Stand, little bird.” He murmured softly.

Carefully, you rose to your feet, making sure that your knees didn’t give out below you. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties. He immediately spotted the wet patch on your grey cotton. “Cute penguin print.” He commented. “Very cute.” He said, his finger moving to toy with the drenched fabric, exposing you. He slid down the chair, kneeling. You took half a step back, only to meet the hard edge of his desk. He had cornered you. You only managed to press your palms into the desk, making sure not to knock anything over or accidentally ruin any equipment.

“Right leg on my shoulder, little dove.” He ordered, his eyes zeroing in on you with a predatory gleam.

You obeyed. Not that you had much choice.

“You’re so wet, Giggles. You enjoyed torturing me this much?” He asked, licking the gusset of your panties. “So nasty.”

“You sounded so good.” You commented, one hand combing his hair back and subtly pushing his mouth against you. “And you tasted even better.”

“These are too cute to rip.” He said, looking at your panties. “I need them off, dove.”

He helped your leg down, immediately dragging the garment down your legs. “Fuck, you’re so drenched.” He growled, noticing the tendrils of arousal sticking your labia together as he placed your leg back on his shoulder. His right arm, free to move, immediately bent so that his hand could spread your wetness all along your slit, before his index and middle finger sank into you, immediately meeting your sweet spot.

“Oh God! Hoseok, please!” One of your hands parted from the table, grabbing his hair.

“Does it feel good?” He asked, crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion. You knew what he wanted to do.

“I’m gonna make a mess, Hobi.” You warned him before a wanton mewl left your lips, betraying you.

“So, do you like it?” He asked again, rubbing his fingers and stretching you out.

“Yes, sir.” You moaned, trying to meet his mouth with your hips. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“You’re about to like it even more, little bird. Hold on tight.” He warned before latching his mouth onto your clit and beginning to torture it with the hard flicks of his tongue. His eyes met yours and you knew he was really going for it. He had that look that meant challenge. You abandoned yourself to your fate.

“Hoseok. Dammit.” You hoped your leg would hold you up because both your hands rushed to his head, pressing it against your cunt. The arm holding your leg moved upwards, sustaining your lower back.

The shift was immediate, the inner sense of burning and the distinct sensations of your inner walls clenching out of your control warning you of what was about to happen. “Hoseok.” You called simply as that overwhelming tide took you under. Your eyes clenched tight, your lower leg quivering dangerously as your orgasm invested him. You knew you had likely squirted over him, especially for the wetness running down your leg. You just hoped there wasn’t a small pool of liquid on his floor.

“That’s it, Giggles. Fucking phenomenal.” He praised you as you gently pulled his mouth away from your clit. He kissed your mound chastely before helping your leg down.

“Did I mess up?” You asked, immediately checking for damage.

“Nothing that a few tissues can’t fix.” He said, standing in front of you, stretching behind you to grab a roll of paper, tearing some and kneeling again, drying up the small puddle. Next he dried your inner thigh. “Are you freaking out?” He asked, knowing that squirting always unsettled you a little.

“The normal amount.” You replied, combing his hair as he looked up at you, collecting all the paper towels and throwing them in the bin.

As he stood again, you felt his hard on against your tummy. “Can you do it standing or do you wanna sit?” He asked, hugging you.

“Your choice. I can handle it.” You replied, still a bit hazy with your previous orgasm.

“Turn.” He murmured, spinning you around with his hands on your waist, your hand moving to press his palm against the small of your back, bending you forward a little. “Like this?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

He bent to your ear. “No need to call me ‘sir’, dove. I’m making love to you.” He said, gently dragging the head of his cock against your folds before slipping in. Once he was halfway in, your mouth open in a silent cry, he pulled out, only to move back in all the way with one smooth stroke.

“Hobi, sweet lord.” You purred, leaning on your elbows, as he started pounding into you. He simply grabbed you under your armpits, pressing his palms against your breasts and pushing you back up, making the angle so right and so intense you thought you would explode again there and then.

However, after a few minutes he simply growled and exited you, pushing you up and turning you around, again. Facing him, you could now see the dark lines forming on his thigh from the flogger, and right on top of that the slim indentation of his abdomen, adorned by his glistening, wet, hard cock.

He let you drink him in with your hungry eyes before tipping your chin up, to make your gazes connect. With his eyes on yours, scorching and demanding, he slipped back inside you, enjoying how your eyelids fluttered at the sense of fullness you were experimenting. The hammering restarted immediately, your hand gripping his shoulders, your nails sinking in. In reply, his strong, veiny palm curled around your outer thigh, pushing your leg up and around his waist.

“Touch yourself. I need you to cum.” He said, making small effort into ordering you, keeping his focus on his ramming.

And you made an even smaller effort into obeying, the hard, filling sensation of him inside you was so satisfying that a few circles on your clit was all it took for your head to crash into his shoulder, suppressing a loud moan by biting into his neck. Still, the bite, the vibrations of your whimpers against his throat, your nails sinking into him and your kegels squeezing him brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm. And he went on, even as you called his name like a litany, a sob interrupting you every now and then as you panted.

He took himself half a minute of stillness. “Can you do another?” He asked, both his hands gripping your ass as he picked you up. “Missionary on the sofa. Just one, I promise.” He said, already walking you to his black leather couch.

You nodded, wordless and brainless, simply hissing when the cold material met your back. “Sorry. I know, cold.” He said, caressing your face. “Ready?” He asked.

Again you nodded, looking at him with a pout. He bent down to kiss your lips. “I love you.” He said.

He said it so often. It was his favourite thing to say, mostly because you would offer him your sweetest smile and your eyes would sparkle with surprise and arousal, just like the first time he had confessed to you. Just like the first time he had bound your wrists on top of your head, kissing all the way down your body, showing you how much adoration his body and his mind could muster.

As he sank into you, you cried out his name tenderly.

“I’ve got you, little dove.” He said, cradling your head in the crook of his arm. “My pretty little bird.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, drawing the shape of your lips. “I’ll be home, in our bed tonight.” He slipped his thumb into your mouth, wetting it. “I’ll make you so happy, Giggles.” He removed it, bringing it to your clit, delicately rubbing circles into your skin. “It’s all I wanna do.” He pressed his lips restlessly to your mouth and chest, your eyes following his movements in slow motion. You were so far gone you even doubted the sensation between your legs when you felt a new tightness ready to snap.

“Close.” You mouthed somewhere on his chest or neck or shoulder. It felt like slow dancing in a dark room. Except he was inside you and the rocking motion relaxed you so completely that you simply let go, not even listening to him saying to hold on, to make it last a second more, to focus on him.

You simply smiled as pleasure took over, Hoseok himself falling on top of you as his hips lost their pattern and let go of any semblance of control and tempo. His mouth pressed into your nipple as he moaned in release.

You both felt like dead bodies afterwards, laying there empty, spent, completely lost. You could have died without a bother. You could have kept existing without a bother, your bodies resting and waking in an endless cycle, the same way day and night follow each other. You were one thing, one entity, not even one body — any relation to material substance was momentarily suspended.

“Giggles.” He checked in on you. “Baby, we should go home, uh? I don’t have stuff to spoil you here, dove.” He said with a worried note.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

“There she is. Hello, sunshine.” He said, trying to fix your hair. “Let me fix the room before we go, yes?”

You smiled. “Let me help.” You said, only half convinced.

He tutted. “No, sweetie. You lay there and I fix this.” He slipped out of you, standing up slowly, a little clumsily. He immediately went to his desk grabbing his cup of water and sinking a corner of his t-shirt, dabbing at his face and chest, then down at his crotch. Next, he walked towards you, using another wet corner to clean you up. “There.” He said, kissing your knee once he was done. Next he dressed you, manoeuvring your body to slip your clothes on. With a bottle of generic cleanser randomly laying on his drawer, he made sure that no stain remained on the floor where he had eaten you out. Standing in his boxers, he rolled the rope back in a tight coil, placing it back into the bag, together with the flogger, making a mental note to clean it once he arrived home. He didn’t even check what you had packed. He was impatient to shower and cuddle with you at home. Your shared home.

Slipping on his sweater, he looked around, checking for potential hints of what had happened. He shrugged once he saw none. He shut down his computer, checking for the other devices to be off too. Finally, he spritzed some of his cologne on himself and the room. “Okay. We’re good, Giggles. Let’s go.”

You groaned before sitting up and waiting for him to offer you his hand to help you up. “That playlist was pretty bomb.” You said. “We should keep it for our wild nights.”

“I’m using it for my next collab.” He replied, closing down the studio and slipping his shoes on. You did the same at his side. “Maybe you will enjoy my song.” He said, winking at you.

“Oh, hi guys! What are you doing here?” Jimin chirped behind you.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Hi. You’re here late.”

“Just passing by.” Jimin said. “Forgot my laptop.” He shook his head. “Hello, Giggles!” He said to you.

It felt ridiculous how all the boys used the nicknames for you and the other girlfriends. Still, it didn’t bother you, since it reminded you of your bond with Hoseok, but also of that familiarity within the group. “Hi Jimin!” You chirped, a little nervous at the possibility of him knowing what had happened in Hoseok’s studio.

“Well, goodnight!” Jimin said sweetly. “I assume you won’t be at the dorms tonight.”

Hoseok tutted. “I’ll be staying with Giggles. She moved in.” He said with a happy tone.

“I’m happy for you. However I hope you won’t be walking out with that tickler hanging out of the bag.” He winked with a teasing remark. “Enjoy it.” He trotted off.

Standing beside Hoseok, you blushed all the way to the tip of your ears.

Hoseok snickered. “Brat.”

Well, he was Princess’ problem now, anyway.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 17*

WHOO, y'all I really didn't think I had a lot left in me and then this just came pouring out. Wow. So yeah after about 3 hours and some crying and a breakdown later, here's another chapter. Definitely gonna get to 20. Oh yeah.

Warning: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. This one kinda got too close to home, but I made it that way so I have no one to blame but myself. If it hits close to home for you as well, I'm so sorry. Also if you're sensitive to....idk I guess I'll just say "drug use"? Use caution when reading.

Part 16

Part 18

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

-------

That Monday you went to class for the first time since you had been abducted. You slunk into class and sat in the back trying to remain unnoticed, but everyone instantly turned to you.

"Oh my god Y/N! Are you ok?!" One student asked you.

"How scary was it?" Another one asked.

"Was Nevada good in bed?" One girl asked you, causing three girls to hit her and shoo her away.

"I um...I…" you tried to breathe, but the questions and chatter kept coming. It was too much for you to handle. You grabbed your stuff and ran out of the classroom, down the hall.

"Hey sweetie are you ok--?" A young Hispanic girl asked you. It took you back to when Gabi had befriended you. You backed away from her and ran out of the building into the quad. You were hyperventilating, you could barely see in front of you. You collapsed onto the grass, crying. You hit your speed dial to call Chloe.

“Hello?”

“Ch-Chloe, I--” You could barely breathe, you were crying so hard. People were starting to stare, you had to get control of yourself.

“Y/N? Oh my god babe are you ok? What happened?”

“I...I need you…” You gasped, trying to get up and duck behind a building where no one could stare at you.

“Oh, oh honey I’m across town right now. Otherwise you know I’d come right down there,” She apologized. “Why don’t you call--”

“I can’t call Rafael,” You cut her off. “I don’t want him to know how fucked up I still am about all of this, we just started to get back to normal,”

“...Um okay, well I don’t know what you want me to--”

“Forget it, I’ll be fine,” You hung up the phone before she could say anything else. You felt bad for being so short with her, but you weren’t exactly yourself right now.

You really didn’t want to have to use Rafael as your crutch, your lifejacket. He had his own life, his own career. He didn’t have time to babysit you. You took several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You glanced around the corner, fewer people were in the quad now. You calmed yourself down enough to walk over and sit under a tree, breathing in the spring air.

You were just starting to calm down when your phone rang: RAFAEL CALLING.

Dammit Chloe…You reluctantly answered the phone with a fake chipper voice. “Hey baby!”

“Hola mi amor, Como estas?”

“I’m fine, Raffi…”

“Are you sure? Because Chloe just called me and--”

“She shouldn’t have called you,” You grumbled.

“Y/N, look baby if you’re in distress--”

“I’m not in distress, Rafael. I’m fine,”

“Are you--”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry Chloe called you. I’ll see you at home,” You hung up the phone abruptly. You instantly felt guilty; why were you taking it out on him? He was just trying to help. But you didn’t want him worrying about you, that was the whole point. You just wanted to forget about everything for a while. You laid down under the tree and closed your eyes, enjoying the sunshine on your face.

-------

Meanwhile

Rafael really didn’t want to betray your trust, but he didn’t know what else to do at this point. You clearly needed outside help and you refused to let him give it to you, so he felt like he had no choice. He went down to the precinct and into Olivia’s office.

“Rafa,” Olivia stood up as he walked in.

“Hey Liv,” He nodded, giving her a small hug. She walked back around her desk as he took a seat.

“What’s up?”

“It’s….Y/N,”

“She’s having trouble dealing with her trauma, isn’t she?”

“...Yes,” He nodded sadly. “And she won’t talk to me. She won’t let me talk to her about it because she doesn’t want me to think of her as a ‘victim’ and--”

“Well of course not Rafael, you’re her--” She paused. “Are you two still engaged?”

“YES, Olivia,” He sternly replied. “We’re still engaged,”

“Okay, sorry,” She bit her lip. “Anyway, of course she’s not going to want to discuss her trauma with you, you’re her loved one. Would you want her to see you as a victim?”

“...No,” He shook his head. “But she needs to talk to someone,”

“Are you suggesting I talk to her?” Olivia half laughed. “Because that’s probably worse than talking to you--”

“Why? She won’t feel ashamed telling you things, she doesn’t care what you think of her,”

“Well, gee thanks,”

“You know what I mean,”

“Yeah I do. She doesn’t like me,” Olivia pointed out. “Which means she won’t be as open to me, you know that,”

“Well, I mean if any of the other squad members come to her she’s just going to be upset more and more people know about her, and I just thought---” He sighed and held his head in hands. “I just-- I don’t know what to do, Liv,”

Olivia came around her desk again and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “...I’ll try, if you really want me to,”

He looked up and gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Liv,”

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

That Night

You had come back to Rafael’s after your little meltdown. While you were at school, a very kind gentleman found you lying under the tree and noticed you needed a bit of shall we say, a chill pill. You had gladly taken a few and popped them on the way home, and you were currently sleeping it off in the front of the TV when Rafael came home, and he wasn’t alone.

“Y/N….Baby?” He called, but there was no answer. He gave Liv a worried look as he dashed through your living room, to find you unconscious on the couch while Netflix was asking “ARE YOU STILL THERE?”

“Oh my god, Y/N! Baby, baby are you okay? Y/N, wake up!” Rafael violently shook you as Olivia started to call for a bus. She stopped dialing when you groggily awoke, stroking Rafael’s face with a sleepy smile.

“Heyyy, baby--” You kissed him deeply.

“Are you--- are you high, right now?” He looked at you horrified.

“What? No! No….maybe a little bit,” You bit your lip trying not to giggle at his very serious face.

“God dammit-- Y/N, carino-- why--?”

“Oh my GOD,” You suddenly noticed Olivia standing behind him. “What is she doing here?”

“She came to--”

“Oh my god, you told her to come here didn’t you? You’re kicking me out, aren’t you? For HER?”

“What? No! Jesus Christ, Y/N what exactly did you take--”

“Oh yeah, let me just tell the ginger snap here what drugs I’m on, and then she can throw me in jail and have you all to herself!”

“What the-- alright that’s it, you with me,” He grabbed your arm and started dragging you to his room. “I’m sorry about this Liv,” He looked at her apologetically.

“Oh yeah, sorry Olivia, wouldn’t want to interrupt your romantic evening with my fiancée,” You mocked, making Rafael walk faster. He pulled you into the room but you were so out of it you flopped onto the bed like a rag doll.

“Jesus-- Okay seriously baby, you need to tell me what you took,”

“No! It was nothing, it was just something to calm me down, it’s not a big deal--”

“It IS a big deal!” He yelled angrily. “Look at you! You can barely sit up!”

“I’m fine! See?” You sat up for about 10 seconds before falling back down on the bed again. You started giggling uncontrollably until you saw Rafael’s face. He wasn’t angry anymore he was...sad? Scared? His eyes were filled with tears, his hand was over his mouth.

“....What is happening right now?” You blinked several times, trying to clear your mind. Seeing Rafael in distress suddenly made being high not so fun anymore.

“...You know this is how I had to see my dad every day when I was a kid,” He said through choked back tears. “You know how traumatic it is to see you like this Y/N I don’t know why--”

“What?” You suddenly sat up quickly, holding on to the edge of the bed to keep you upright. “I...no, you said he used to beat--”

“You think he was SOBER while doing that?!” Rafael yelled louder now, and became more angry.

“...No, I guess not--” You hung your head down, mostly because it was difficult to keep it upright.

“I...I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, I just can’t,” He threw his hands up and walked towards the door.

“Rafa I--”

“Just sleep it off, we’ll talk later,” He snarled and slammed the door.

Almost immediately you burst into tears; how could you have done this to him? You hadn’t really thought about his whole dad situation, but now that he said it out loud it made perfect sense.

You just wanted to feel better, without causing him grief. And instead you had caused him heartache and pain. It made you hate yourself more than you already did.

And to top it off, Olivia was now out there with him in the living room, probably comforting him. Holding him while he cried about how you hurt him. You were driving him right back into her arms, no potions needed. You wanted so badly to just go in there and tell her to get the fuck away from your man, but you still couldn’t stand. You just laid there and cried until you fell asleep.

------

Hours later, you woke up to a dark room once again. It was 10:30. How long had you been out? You cautiously opened the door, but the living room was dark. Rafael wasn’t there?

“...Baby?” You called through the apartment to make sure, but sure enough there was no answer. You flipped on the light to see a note with your name on it. Oh god.

“No, no no no no--” You raced over and opened the paper, praying to God it wouldn’t say what you thought it would.

“Y/N-- Went out to clear my head, think about things. There’s food in the fridge I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be back?” You read out loud. When? Tonight? Tomorrow? A week from now? You started to grab your phone to call him, but before you could the door swung open and Rafael came sneaking in-- with Olivia.

“Oh my, Oh my god--” You wanted to vomit right there. They were both clearly a little tipsy and giggling, but when they saw you they straightened up quickly.

“Hey baby, you’re up,” He smiled sweetly, walking over and kissing your cheek.

“Oh so this is what we’re doing now, is it? I get high and upset you, so you go and get drunk to upset me?”

“What? No, I just-- we were just--” He looked to Liv.

“Y/N listen, we were just--” Olivia tried to explain.

“Oh I think you were JUST LEAVING, bitch,” You growled, starting to charge her but Rafael grabbed your arm.

“HEY, leave Liv alone,” He told you sternly, almost glaring at you. You had been here before, this was too familiar. You looked at him in surprise, then turned to Olivia with anger.

“...You did it again, didn’t you?” Hot tears stung your eyes as you swiped your arm from Rafael’s grasp.

“Did what?” Olivia asked, oblivious.

“You dosed him again, DIDN’T YOU?!” You started to charge her again as you screamed, but this time Rafael grabbed you by your waist.

“Y/N! Nobody fucking dosed me, you wanna talk about dosing? Let’s talk about how I found you earlier,” He barked.

“That was completely different--” You started to defend yourself.

“Why? Because you wanted to feel better?” He asked you angrily. “Because I went out and did the same thing, and just because you’re insecure about Liv and I, suddenly she has me under a spell?”

“This isn’t you,” You shook your head with tears rolling down your cheeks. “It just isn’t, I know it’s not,” You looked to Olivia, who still retained her confused look.

“Olivia, can you--?” Rafael looked at her while nodding at the door.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll-- talk to you later,” She gave a little nervous wave before walking out and closing the door behind her.

------

“See? Are you happy now?” He threw up his hands. “I didn’t go after her like a little love spelled puppy, Y/N,”

“You don’t have to mock me--”

“I told you I wasn’t under anything! You think that just because I’m mad at you, suddenly I must be under some kind of spell? Because, what? Because I can’t be mad at you, because you’re ‘going through something’? What about me?! What about what you’re putting me through?!”

“I’m trying NOT TO!!!!!!” You screamed.

“Yeah well you’re doing a hell of a job,” He laughed sarcastically, walking through the living room to his room.

“Rafael, Rafa!” You chased after him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“To what, Y/N? To get high in the middle of the day on god knows what? Or did you not mean to get caught?” He sneered as he started to get undressed.

“I just wanted to feel better!!” You stomped your foot.

“I don’t make you feel better? You need drugs for that?!” Tears came to his eyes. He couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“No!!! I just--” You paused, trying not to cry. “I just don’t want our relationship to be you constantly comforting me, or-- or taking care of me, like I’m a child!”

“Yeah well you’re sure as hell acting like one,” He tossed off his pants and dress shirt and stomped into his bathroom to get a t-shirt to wear with his boxers.

“....Why are you putting clothes on to sleep?” You asked him cautiously; you both usually slept naked in each other’s arms all night.

“Because I’m sleeping in the guest room, you can have the bed,” He pushed past you and out the door heading down the hallway to the guest room.

“No, no no no no Rafael don’t,” You quickly trailed him, grabbing his hand and making him face you.

“Why? I don’t make you feel better, why don’t you sleep with your pills?” He narrowed his eyes at you as he pulled away from you and started to walk away again.

“.....Please….” You softly whimpered, making him stop in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, he just looked at the ground and sighed.

“...Please don’t leave me alone,” You sounded like a little girl scared of the dark, but you didn’t care.

You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t need him anymore, because the truth is you did. You needed him by you every second of every day, you felt absolutely helpless without him. And you hated it. But you couldn’t hide it anymore.

After a long pause, Rafael turned back to face you, tears were streaming down your face. You looked so small and pitiful, he instantly regretted yelling at you like he had. He walked back slowly towards you, taking you in his arms and rubbing your back.

“I’m never going to leave you alone, carino,” He whispered as you sobbed into his chest. “I promise you,”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry about today. I just--”

“I know,” He nodded as he walked you back into his room and sat you on the bed as you pulled your clothes off. He took off his clothes and crawled into bed next to you, listening to your cries die down.

“I’m sorry I went out with Olivia, mi amor,” He apologized into your ear as he spooned you. “I knew how much that would hurt you and I did it anyway,”

“...It’s fine,” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure it was. But, you knew on some level that being high in front of Rafael would upset him and you did it anyway, so you couldn’t really hold onto it.

“....You really do need someone to talk to though, baby. Even if it’s not me,” He whispered, kissing the back of your neck gently. “Please?”

“Okay,” You nodded as you turned to face him. “I’ll do anything you want me to Rafa,”

“I want you to do it for you,” He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care about me, I care about you!” You shook your head.

“And I care about-- see this is what I’m talking about, baby,” He sighed. “You have to stop-- punishing yourself, or hating yourself, for whatever happened. We’re never going to be able to move on if you don’t,”

“....Okay,”

“Okay you’ll do it?”

“...I’ll try,”

“Okay,” He kissed you gently. “That’s all I’m asking,”

“....I flushed the rest of the pills,” You told him softly, making him smile for the first time that night.

“Thank you, baby,” He kissed you again.

“And I don’t care if you think that you’re--- being a burden, or needy, or some kind of anchor because you need me to feel safe. I want you to feel safe, all the time. And I WANT to be the one who makes you feel safe. Not drugs, not alcohol, not anybody else. Me. And if I need to be by your side 24/7 for the time being, then that’s what I’ll do,”

“What? Rafa come on--” You started to protest.

“No, I’m serious,” He took your hands. “I made a commitment to you, and I’m damn sure going to keep it. I will protect you from now until the end of our lives. So, I’ll call Morgan tomorrow and tell her that until further notice, unless I’m in court I’ll be working from home, okay?”

“I---I can’t ask you to do that--”

“You’re not asking me, carino. I’m offering-- No, I’m telling you, that’s what I’m doing,”

“....Okay,” You nodded with a small smile, snuggling closer into his chest as he pulled you tighter.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in the world,” He whispered to the top of your head as you fell asleep on his chest.

“I love you too Rafael,” You cooed as you drifted off to sleep.

[husbandograveyard]

Fireworks - Kid x Reader

One Piece of summer challenge - week 7

part of the challenge hosted by @doctorgerth​ & @laws-yellow-submarine​ I’m attempting all 11 weeks, 11 different prompts and 11 different characters! This was actually my very very first idea for the challenge, but I saved it for somewhere midway to keep myself just that little bit extra motivated to make myself stick through the entirety of the challenge. We all deserve some soft Kid and I am here to serve! Enjoy! 

Prompt: Fireworks - Character: Eustass Kid - Word count: 1.5k 

as usual with Eustass, there’s swearing involved. 

“But there’s gonna be fireworks!” “I don’t care if even the goddamn king of the pirates was there himself, we cannot make this stop y/n. And we will not make it. Period. Now get the fuck out, don’t you have something better to do than nag my head off?” 

You felt your bottom lip quiver as you wordlessly left Kid’s workshop. After over a year of being together with him, you should’ve known better than to barge into his workshop after he was already in a bad mood. Some petty fight at breakfast that did not even involve you had made him slam doors and retreat to his little safe space on board. The only ones that could come in when he was in such a mood, were Killer and you. 

You had gone in with the intention to de-escalate, calm him down a little, and that worked out pretty well, until you had used the wrong tactic. You had proposed docking at a nearby island. The newspaper had announced there would be a big fireworks show for some kind of holiday, and you really wanted to go, disguising your ask as a proposal to blow off some steam and do something ‘fun’ with the crew.

Kid had immediately said no, saying that the crew did not deserve any break for their poor performances last stop, and that it was only a week since you left that last island. There was no reason to stop, you still had plenty of supplies. Changing course and stopping needlessly was just messing with his plans and he would have none of that. You kept on pressing on, and it became increasingly clear that you really just wanted to do something with him, but for some reason that had set him off even more. Yelling ensued, and eventually he had kicked you out of the workplace, leaving you to stand outside the door, fighting back tears. 

It was not like you guys barely fought. With a boyfriend with such explosive temper, fights were inevitable, and you were usually quite good at defusing the situation or letting off steam by engaging in a good old shouting match until Killer came along the tell you both to quit it. 

You were just so disheartened right now, it could’ve been such a great opportunity to hang out with your boyfriend, maybe scare away some unsuspecting civilians. He liked blowing things up occasionally, and you had wrongfully connected that to maybe him liking fireworks. And maybe he did like them, but just didn’t want to hang out with you for now. That last option made you feel even worse. 

You walked back to your cabin, the crew passing you on the way knowing better than to disturb you after a fight with Kid. The big difference now was that you weren’t even angry. You were just sad. You were not one to get overly emotional, Kid hated it when you cried, and not for the reason most boyfriends would hate seeing their girl cry, he just thought it annoying. So you locked yourself up in your room for a couple of hours, cried your heart out and you were back on your way. 

A good cry cleansed your body and soul, and even though the situation was far from fixed, you could at least find some energy to last until the next time you saw Kid. You weren’t really sure how to feel about the whole relationship as of now, but you would try to talk it out. After all, it’s not like you didn’t know you started a relationship with possibly the most difficult man on sea. 

He did not show up for dinner, and when Killer offered to go bring him a plate on your behalf, you thanked him, but proposed you’d do it yourself. You wanted to talk it out. You were not really sure what you wanted to accomplish by talking, but you really just wanted something. Let him know that you did not want to nag him, but also let him know you wanted to do something, anything together. 

You knocked on the door to announce your entrance, and then came in, carefully carrying the plate so no food would be spilled.  “Have you come to nag again?” Kid didn’t even turn to face you, too busy tinkering with whatever mechanics you did not understand to begin with.  “No, I just...”, you put the plate down next to him, in a spot where none of his supplies were, “I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you... but babe, it’s been weeks since we did something fun. I get that you don’t want to please the crew for what they pulled on the last island... but I’m not just a crew member. I am also your girlfriend and i’d love for you to spend some time with me. And looking at some stupid fireworks was my plan. But anything goes really. I shouldn’t have hidden it under some crew bonding. I just want it to be you and me.” 

He stood up from his workbench, towering over you, you stepped back a little, just cause you had been standing so close behind him to start with.  “You should’ve told me so doll”  “I know I know....” You sighed deeply. “We’re still not going to that stupid island. It’s too late anyway.”  You nodded.  “But I guess if you find some other dumb activity to do for us, you can tell me. None of that sappy family-crew-bonding bullshit okay? If you want a date, you tell me.”  You smiled in response, giving him a quick peck on the lips to say goodbye, so he could eat and focus on his project again.  “Maybe we can get some stargazing done? Not tonight, but just... some night. No crew needed, no stops on a strange islands, just you and I and the sky, and nothing else special.”   He grunted in response, which you took as a yes, and you walked out of the workshop, a weight of your shoulders now that was resolved. 

That night you were sleeping alone, not cause Kid was still mad, but it actually happened quite often that once he got busy in his workshop, and worked there all night, or at least most of the night. You were used to it, knowing you would wake up in his arms anyway. You were about to drift away when you heard the familiar footsteps in the hallway leading up to his cabin. 

You shifted a little, making yourself more comfortable, preparing for some lazy cuddles. Usually Kid was pretty quiet - or at least attempted to be quiet when he noticed you were already sleeping -, so you nearly jumped when he slammed open the door and called out your name.  “Kid, what the fuck?”  “Come out, stargazing”  You were confused, sleepy and a little pissed at the sudden wake-up call, not even registering what he said.  “Stargazing?” “Yes, dumbass, that’s what you wanted right? The sky is clear now, bring the blanket. It’s a little cold and I don’t want you nagging for my coat.” 

You crawled out of the bed, blanket wrapped around you and followed Kid through the hallways onto the deck of the Victoria Punk. He sat you down on a certain spot, mumbling something about it being the best view and you looked up. There were actually not that much stars visible and you frowned a little.  “Kid... are you sure this is the best time to-”  “Just shut up for a second y/n”  He didn’t sound angry or agitated and you did as he said as he sat next to you and wrapped an arm around you.  

BANG. 

You jumped, Kid chuckled. Before you could ask him what the fuck that sudden explosion was, you noticed a sea of sparkles lighting up the sky and you stared at them, mouth wide open with amazement. The first explosion was followed by man others, fireworks lighting up the sky in all kinds of different colors, formations, even some shapes. You were completely stunned by the view, seeing your boyfriend grin from the corner of your eye.  “Is this what you had in mind?”  You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.  “It’s even better. These are beautiful” You leaned up to kiss him, and cuddled even closer, pulling back and focusing on the beautiful fireworks again. They kept on coming, he must’ve spent nearly all day on it. That very idea warmed your heart. He probably was working on them as you went to bring him his dinner. It was his way of saying sorry, without actually saying it out loud.  “Hey captain?”  He looked at you skeptically, as he always did when you used that nickname outside of the bedroom. You liked using it here and there just to keep him on his toes. “I love you” He grinned proudly in response, pulling you in for another, longer and deeper kiss, pouring in the love from his side, fireworks still going of in the background. This was so much more intimate, so much better than any festival you could imagine. 

He could definitely be a handful, but you wouldn’t trade him for anyone. He cared in his own special way, and for you, that was more than enough. 

[justsomefluff]

Could I request an Ateez reaction in which the members find out that one of the other members has a crush on their s/o (the other member possibly doesn't know their dating) please and thank you!

Ask and you shall receive!

I made this one so that you have been friends with the guys for a while anyway, so that’s why no one is suspicious of you dating.

Hongjoong:

One day you’re just chillin in the dorms right

It’s about to be movie night!!!

The best night when you have literally the funniest people with you

Once everyone figures out what snacks they need and actually sits down

you plop next to Joongie for some secretive snuggles

But as soon as you sit down, Wooyoung starts yelling about how he wanted to cuddle with you during the movie

Everyone teases him because even you know he has a crush on you (he’s not shy and he has a big mouth so you found out pretty quick)

Since nobody knows that you and Hongjoong are together, you force yourself to go over to Wooyoung instead

It’s almost impossible to ignore your boyfriend’s pout though

He’s staring at you from across the room with the saddest look on his face for like 20 minutes of the movie

you can’t even concentrate, you just wanna go back over there so bad

but you don’t want to expose your relationship just yet

Hongjoong will just have to suck it up for tonight

He does not suck it up, however

after another 15 minutes, he stand up really abruptly and marches over to you and Wooyoung

everybody is watching because no one knows what he’s doing all of a sudden

grabs your hand and pulls you back to his seat

cue more complaining from Wooyoung

“Well we’re together, I'm allowed”

everyone just kind of goes into stunned silence

eventually.... “YOU’RE WHAT”

bunch of yelling from everyone while Joong just yanks a blanket up over the both of your heads

you peck him on the lips and eventually the yelling stops and you can come out to finish the movie

Seonghwa:

possessive mf

but he was the one who didn’t want to tell anyone in the first place

So when Yeosang starts flirting with you, all he can really do is be bitter about it

He watches as you laugh along, obviously not getting that one of your boyfriend’s best friends is coming onto you

You and Yeosang had been talking together for about an hour, just catching up on life and stuff

Seonghwa is getting fed up, no lie

He knew Yeosang had a crush, but he always thought he would be too shy to ever make a move

But all of a sudden Seonghwa feels threatened

he manages to catch your eye across the room and you smile and wave

he just frowns, making you pout and excuse yourself from Yeosang

you head over to him and ask him what’s wrong

He just pulls you into a kiss, catching you completely by surprise

as your eyes flutter shut, his stay open and on Yeosang who is watching with his mouth hanging open

He mouths “sorry, hyung”

Seonghwa pulls away, nods at the younger, and smiles at you

“what was that all about?? What if people saw??”

“don't care anymore”

you don't really question his sudden change of heart

all you can think about is finally being able to cuddle with him even when the boys are around lmao

Yunho: 

(who gave him the right to look so professional here like what)

squishyyyyyyyyyyy

is hanging around the studio one day when he overhears what sounds like your laugh

he’s like “they aren’t even here today wth”

so he goes to find the source and comes across Hongjoong FaceTiming you

he is about to rush over to join and say hi to his love but stops when he hears Hongjoong speak again

sounds like a confession... Yunho’s cheeks get all red and his eyes get a little glossy just because he’s overwhelmed

he sticks around to hear what you say

he knows that you love him but, at the same time, there's a part of him that's really insecure and scared

“Aw, Joongie...that’s sweet and all but...” you’re stalling because you can’t decide if you should tell him the truth

Yunho is literally dying as he waits for your answer

“Joong, I’m with Yunho... we didn’t want people to know but I think this is a pretty good reason to tell you. I’m so sorry”

Yunho lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

lets a tear fall because he was so so nervous poor thing

he backs out of the room so that he doesn’t hear more

he low-key feels bad about even overhearing that much but at the same time he feels more confident in your relationship 

he shoots you a text later telling you how much you mean to him and everything, but he doesn’t bring up Hongjoong

he knows that you will end up telling him anyway but he doesn’t want you to think negatively of him for eavesdropping

just so happy that you chose him

Yeosang: 

so Yeosang is really confident about your relationship and loves you a lot 

but he's shy about letting other people know

but when he notices that Jongho has been making extra efforts to be near you lately, he doesn’t take it lightly

he wouldn’t be nervous if Jongho knew you were in a relationship

but since he doesn’t, Yeosang is worried that he might try and make a move on you

Jongho had talked to a couple of the other guys about his infatuation with you

but he had suspected that Yeosang also had a crush on you so he had held off

but the other guys told Jongho to go for it, since they didn't know the truth either

So as Yeosang is watching Jongho talking to you one day, he notices that Jongho’s fingers keep “accidentally” grazing yours

He’s getting angrier as he watches

but he isn’t angry at you or Jongho, just angry with himself for being to scared to say anything

eventually, he musters up some courage and saunters over to you and Jongho and takes your hand

right in front of Jongho’s salad

And Jongho is immediately like “crap” and walks away

and you’re super confused because what in the world am I missing what just happened

But Yeosang just kinda giggles and asks you if you wanna go get lunch

San:

now San I think is one to actually get pretty jealous

like if he sees someone trying anything with you, he’s gonna be big mad right away

But it is much more difficult to get mad when it’s Seonghwa who is after you

San is definitely afraid of coming off as disrespectful to his elder if he tries to step in and stop anything

highkey hopes that you’ll say something so that he won't have to

One day Seonghwa actually comes to San

to talk about you

he’s just rambling on and on about how cute he thinks you are, totally oblivious to San’s irritated expression

San is fuming

eventually he’s gonna snap and be like “LOOK BRO WE’RE DATING”

and Seonghwa is like O.O

then San is apologizing like a mad man because he really didn’t mean for it to come out like that

he just legit couldn’t listen to someone else talk about his girlfriend anymore it was infuriating

Seonghwa’s like “...it’s cool, I get why you’d be mad”

then he assures him that he won’t try anything now that he knows about you two

But he also scolds San for not telling him sooner lmao

Gives an apology too just to make his lil bro feel a little better

Mingi:

(MY MF BABYYYYYY)

So, Mingi gets insecure, I bet

When other tall boy, Yunho, also proclaims that you are his ideal type during a revealing round of truth or dare

there is a lot of yelling from the guys, as you are literally playing with them and he just SAID THAT?

But Mingi does not think it’s funny

Suddenly Wooyoung leans over and whispers in his ear

“we are gonna try to get y/n to say she wants dare so she will have to kiss Yunho”

Like it’s sweet that they’re planning to be wingmen for their buddy Yunho but Mingi is so SAD

scoots an inch closer to you and shakes his head at Wooyoung

“why are you pouting, just help us lmao”

he shakes his head again, but Wooyoung has already turned his attention back to the game

finally, your turn comes around and all the guys start making up excuses as to why you should take a dare

“Cmon y/n we just had two truths in a row, pleaseee”

“y/n you gotta pick dare or its not fun”

and you’re laughing and about to give in and ask for a dare when you look to Mingi and he’s making big eyes at you

you cock an eyebrow at him and he leans over to tell you what the guys were planning

your eyes go wide and the other guys are like “MINGI YOU TATTLED DIDNT YOU”

so you turn your head and peck Mingi on the lips in front of everyone

chorus of “oh my god” “woah” and other things

“Sorry, Yunho” but he just shrugs like “it’s cool, Id rather you be with one of us than someone random. even if its not me”

Mingi is smiling again and thats all that matters really and he snuggles you for the rest of the game

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung is pretty well-attuned to things that happen around you

always watching you out of the corner of his eye like a stalker

it’s just cuz he loves you tho

so he notices Mingi hitting on you pretty much immediately

honestly finds it kind of amusing for a little bit

but then little things come up in his memory

fans saying that he was too short for you and that you’d be better with someone else

gets down on himself really fast thinking about that kind of stuff

still watching you and Mingi talking

wants to walk over there and hang all over you until Mingi gets the point

so that is exactly what he does

waddles over and slings his arms around your waist

head on your shoulder

kisses your neck and you squeal because MINGI IS RIGHT THERE I MEAN SERIOUSLY WOOYOUNG

and Mingi kind of laughs it off but he’s a little sad bc he liked you ya know

after Mingi goes away you hit Wooyoung softly on the shoulder and tell him to go talk to Mingi and apologize or something

He agrees but he’s like “you have to give me cuddles afterwards”

who could say no to that? couldn't be me

Jongho:

Okay so you and Jongho are coming back from a group dinner and he sat in the front while you crammed in the backseat with WooSan

halfway through the car ride home, you fall asleep and your head flops onto San’s shoulder

he’s immediately giddy about his crush sleeping on him like his dreams are coming true

Jongho’s like “imma break your dreams like my apples bro”

Woo is giggling because San is being so soft for you and stroking your hair and everything 

Jongho just kinda watches in the rearview as San takes pictures and stuff

But Jongho just purses his lips and tries his best not to say anything

the last straw that finally breaks Jongho’s resolve is when he catches San pressing a kiss to the top of your head

“Hyung, please don't kiss them in front of their boyfriend”

San and Wooyoung look at each other like “are you the boyfriend”

they look at the driver “is he the boyfriend?”

and then their two collective brain cells join together and are like “JONGHO IS THE BOYFRIEND”

San is a little sad but his happiness at the maknae finding love is more prevalent

They start squealing and demanding details about your relationship

“when did this start” “why didn't you tell us” “did you tell your parents”

Jongho just smiles to himself as they throw questions at him

then you wake up and slap San on the boob for waking you up and then flick Wooyoung for being noisy too lmao

Jongho smiles at you and when you get back to the dorms, he gives you a smooch right where everyone can see (because he can do that now)

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Better Off

Pairing: Johnny Thunders x Reader

Author’s note: Let me know if this got too sappy or serious lol. I feel like it definitely did...

You never saw it coming.

The day had been perfect. You and Johnny, your boyfriend of almost eight months, had spent the whole day together. You went out for lunch at a cute little diner, then went and took a walk through Central Park. The two of you took your time strolling through the park, soaking in the nice weather. On your way back to your apartment, you had picked up some dinner to eat while watching a movie that evening.

The whole day had been spent with the man of your dreams. He was everything you could have wanted in a partner. He was kind, and witty, and loyal. He opened doors for you and held your hand anytime he could. He laughed at your jokes and amused you with his own. He made time for you in his busy life as a musician and made you feel loved. You loved him and it was clear that he loved you just as much.

Or at least you thought he did.

When the two of you had gotten home, Johnny began to act a bit strangely. Well, strange for him. Even after eight months of being with you, Johnny sometimes still got shy and nervous around you, a fact that you found absolutely adorable. But this night, Johnny was acting more nervous than usual. You had chalked it up to being tired or stressed. He had been in the studio earlier this week working on some new material. Maybe that’s what was getting to him.

“Um (Y/N),” Johnny said, interrupting the movie.

You paused the movie and looked up at him, sitting up a little straighter.

“What’s up babe?” you asked. He seemed awful serious all of the sudden.

“Um, well, this is kind of hard to say but I think that maybe- well, I think maybe we should split up,” he said, fumbling over his words.

You stared at him waiting for him to get to the punch line of whatever joke he was playing.

Unfortunately, there was none.

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just think it’s for the best.”

“What? Why?” You had so many questions. You needed to talk to him about this.

“I should just leave,” he said, getting up from the couch and hurriedly making his way to the door.

“No, stop,” you said, following after him. “What do you mean we should split up? What happened?”

“(Y/N) please,” he said, eyes looking glassy as he turned around to look at you again. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” His words came out hoarse, like he was trying to hold back tears.

What the hell could he be getting choked up about? You were the one in the middle of getting dumped.

“I just- I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” you said a bit incredulously. “Just give me a fucking reason, Johnny!”

Despite your tone, you weren’t mad at Johnny. You were just hurt. This felt like it was coming from nowhere and you were completely lost as to why this was happening. People don’t just break up with people for no reason.

“I just don’t see it working out,” he mumbled with his head low, unable to meet your eyes.

“So, we’re really done?” you asked. Your voice was hushed now, barely above a whisper. The tears that had been forming in your eyes finally began to fall down your face.

Johnny couldn’t even agree out loud. He simply nodded his head.

Not wanting him to see you cry, you turned away from him.

“Just go,” you said, wanting the exact opposite.

You wanted him to envelope you in his arms and take it all back. You wanted him to pepper your face with kisses and apologize for everything he had just said. You wanted him to stay.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he did as you said and made his way out through the apartment door, shutting it behind without a glance back at you or word spoken.

You fell to the floor the second the door closed, crying. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. How could you have been so stupid to think that Johnny really loved you? Clearly, you had meant nothing to him. Had you really meant nothing to him? If you had, he wouldn’t have left you, right? What were you going to do now?

You sobbed into your hands as a million questions raced through your head.

****

As it turned out, getting over Johnny was proving to be quite difficult. The first few days after the breakup were, of course, the worst. You had spent the majority of your time laying in bed with a box of tissues and eating takeout. As much as you had wanted to stop thinking about him, everything reminded you of Johnny and brought you to tears. Even when you slept, he was on your mind, filling your restless sleep with dreams of him.

Your friends were quick to pull you out of this depressive slump though. The second after you had called them and told them the news they had rushed over to your place with a bottle of booze and a trash bag to get rid of anything Johnny had left at your apartment. You stayed up for hours talking about what happened between you and him while your friends listened and tried their best to console you. They were pissed at Johnny in a way that you weren’t. Where they were more focused on him breaking your heart, you were still stuck on why. Johnny had never told you why he was ending things with you and you couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. Part of you believed that perhaps you were to blame, that you had done something to go and mess your relationship up.

For the next couple of weeks, you tried your best to move on. It was hard though. Your apartment was filled with memories of your time spent with Johnny and you were constantly reminded of him. As much as you would have liked to be angry and bitter with Johnny like your friends were, you just couldn’t feel that way towards a man who you’d loved so dearly.

It was nearly a month after the breakup that your friends finally convinced you to go out with them and have some fun.

“C’mon (Y/N), it’ll be fun,” your friend whined. “It’s been so long since you’ve gone out.”

So, you relented. It had been awhile since you’d gone out to do anything fun. Mainly your days had consisted of working, eating, and sleeping. It would be nice to get out for a change.

Your friends practically cheered when you agreed to go with them and dragged you straight to your closet to find something “more acceptable” to wear. Apparently, sweatpants and a t shirt weren’t appropriate party attire.

Once you had finished getting ready and were looking “fucking hot (Y/N), you’re going to have to ward off all the boys”, you and your friends were headed out the door and on your way to the party.

You weren’t sure whose place you were at, but you recognized a good amount of people as you took in the scene. It was dimly lit, full of people, and the music was so loud the walls were almost shaking. No doubt the cops would show up later due to a noise complaint. People were mostly lingering around, sipping a drink, and talking with the people around them.

Your eyes traveled around the room as you and your friends approached some people you knew. It was then that you spotted him. Sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to other guys, was Johnny.

One of your friends followed your gaze and spotted him as well.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N),” they said. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. We can get out of here, go home, have our own fun.”

You smiled sadly and looked away from your ex-lover and back to your friend. “It’s alright, I was bound to run into him eventually.” It was true, you and Johnny ran with the same crowd. You knew one day you’d have to face him again. “Let’s just stay. We were so excited for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” your friend asked, skeptical.

You nodded. You were done being miserable, you decided. Yeah, Johnny had broken your heart, but you needed to let that go. Tonight, you were going to have fun and forget all about the boy seated just across the room.

That was how you found yourself in the upstairs hallway, flirting with a boy you’d never met. He was cute with dark hair and dark eyes. He smelled like booze and was slightly swaying on his feet, but you weren’t too concerned about that. You had no intention of doing anything more than flirting with the young guy. Maybe you’d let him steal a drunken kiss or two, but he was mainly a distraction from Johnny who had surely spotted your presence at the party by now.

“Fuck,” the mystery boy slurred, “you’re so hot,” he commented before almost crashing into you. You caught his staggering body with your hands around his waist and moved your face to the side to avoid his attempt at kissing you.

“And you’re drunk,” you said, laughing slightly. “You need to go lay down somewhere.”

The boy nodded, his head slumped against your shoulder. You decided you’d help him into the bedroom down the hall before leaving. The party had kind of sucked anyways.

After helping the boy into the bedroom, you reentered the hallway.

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounded as you stepped out of the room.

You looked up. It was Johnny.

You forced yourself to ignore the flutter of your heart and greeted him coldly.

“Hey.”

Johnny looked nervous. His eyes darted around the hall, unable to stay trained on you for more than two seconds at a time. He fumbled with his hands as he stood there, putting them in and out of his pockets several times as if trying to figure out what to do with them.

“What do you want?” you finally asked, his silence bothering you.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing is all,” he said.

You scoffed and Johnny looked surprised.

“You dumped me with no warning and no reason and now you’re gonna ask me how I’m doing?” you asked. “Go fuck yourself, Johnny.”

It seemed the anger your friends held for Johnny finally caught up to you. Johnny’s eyes were wide. He clearly had not expected that reaction from you. Part of you was happy to have caught him off guard. Again though, Johnny didn’t say anything. He just kept on staring at you.

“How do you think I’m doing Johnny?” you asked, continuing on with your rant when it became clear Johnny was not going to respond. “I’m doing awful, thanks for asking,” you said with fake cheer.

You stormed past him, ready to leave him and this awful party behind you. He reached out and caught your wrist as you walked past, stopping you from leaving.

“Let go of me,” you said through gritted teeth. He was really pissing you off now.

“Wait,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you (Y/N).

“Well, you did,” you snapped. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and over him, you weren’t.

Johnny sighed and let go of your wrist, shoulders slumping. “That really wasn’t my intention.”

“It wasn’t?” you asked. “Then what was your intention, huh? To make me look like an idiot? To make me feel like a goddamn fool?”

“No,” Johnny said, shaking his head earnestly. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he had broken up with you. He was upset. He looked hurt.

“Then what?” you snapped, hands on your hips.

“I thought you’d be better off without me!” he said, nearly shouting to get his point across. “I thought you’d be better off without me, okay?”

That shut you up.

“Why would you think that?” you asked, tone considerably softer than before. You were baffled. You had no idea that Johnny had felt that way.

Johnny looked tense and he pulled at his hair in frustration before answering you.

“Because- because look at you and look at me!”

“I don’t understand-”

“(Y/N), you’re literally perfect!” he exclaimed. “You’re -you’re so good and kind and beautiful and smart and I’m- I’m not. I’m awful. I’m just some loser junkie trying to make it big. You deserve so much more. I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d be happier without me.”

Johnny’s words brought tears to your eyes.

“Look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Now I’m making you cry. Again. God, (Y/N), you deserved more than me. I knew I was bringing you down and did what I thought was best. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice watery.

“You wouldn’t have let me go,” he said, looking guilty and just as upset as you.

“You’re right,” you said, nodding and trying to pull yourself back together to talk with him. “I wouldn’t have let you go. I wouldn’t have let you go because you are so wrong Johnny.”

You took his hands into yours as you went on. “Johnny, I’m not perfect, okay? I get tired and mean, I’m an awful cook, and I am definitely not as smart as you think I am. The list goes on.”

“But none of that matters to me,” Johnny said. “To me, you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I’m trying to get at,” you said. “Johnny, I love you for you. I love every part of you, flaws included. The only part of you that I don’t like is that you’re not mine anymore.”

“So, what are you saying?” he asked, looking down at your interlocked fingers, afraid of getting his hopes up.

“I’m saying I want you back in my life.”

“But-”

“Johnny, I want you in my life,” you said, silencing his argument. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, now looking deep into your eyes.

“Then trust me,” you pleaded. “I’m a better person with you by my side.”

Johnny hesitated a moment before eventually nodding and you threw your arms around his neck in joy. You pressed a loving kiss to his lips, trying your hardest to prove to him how much you loved him.

“Come home with me,” you said, arms still wrapped around him.

“Okay,” he agreed, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You kept standing there, holding him, overcome with joy at just the feeling of having him back in your arms.

“You have to let go of me first?” he joked, now fully smiling due to your affection.

“Promise me you won’t leave again,” you said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I promise,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss which you happily returned. “I promise.”

[mo12mo29]

Queen of Dreams  Chapter 3: First Words

Carla is babysitting Emma while the boys are out doing their own thing.

Notes: I honestly am a little salty with Carla after that one specific episode (not gonna say which one) so I am gonna do a little bashing on her. I'm also gonna add in a bit of Emma's point of view since she is a little older to the point where she can decipher whether she likes someone or not.

A year has gone by and Emma was already getting so big. She was only one and she already knew how to walk, thanks to Stanford teaching her. Stanley never thought he's see the day when his own twin squealing like a girl and jumping up and down in excitement when Emma first started taking her first steps. Stanley was excited too, but not as excited as Stanford was. He guessed that being accomplished in teaching a one year old how to walk brings out that kind of reaction. Today, Caryn and Filbrick were out of town, leaving Stanford and Stanley to take care of Emma. The boys still needed some help since their parents were gonna be gone for two weeks so they called their older brother Shermie, who came into town a month ago, and he said that he would come over to help out. He still had a few hour drive and the boys had to leave for their after school activities. Stanley had to go to boxing practice and Stanford had to go to his science club. Luckily, Stan's girlfriend, Carla said that she would babysit Emma for a while.

Which brings them to the present. Emma was playing on the floor with her toys while Carla was on the phone with one of her friends. If Emma was being honest with herself, she didn't really like Carla at all. Whenever she was around, she would take all of Stanley's attention, give her disgusted looks when she looks at Emma's hair, and say nasty things about her under her breath when no one is listening. Plus, Carla was no fun! She wouldn't even play with Emma whenever she came over! She would just brush her off and either flirt with Stan, or be on the phone all day. Tonight was gonna be even worse, while Emma was playing with a block, she heard Carla talking on the phone with someone, but the sound of the voice didn't sound feminine at all, it sounded like a male's voice.

"Yeah...Yeah, he's gone and they won't be back in an hour. Don't worry about the baby, she's only one, she's a dumb baby." 'Dumb baby'!?  Emma wanted to bite Carla's fingers off. She knew enough words to know that those words were insulted. Just because she was a baby it does not mean she was dumb.

"Be here in ten minutes, don't forget to bring the cigarettes okay? Love you." Woah, wait! A stranger is coming over!? Carla just invited a complete stranger over! Emma did not like the sound of a stranger coming in the house.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Carla picked Emma up from the floor, ignore Emma's struggle to get out of her hold, and went to open the door. There was a man with blond hair and looked close to Carla's age

"Tim, you're here!" Carla reached up and kissed him on the lips. Emma was confused. Why was Carla kissing another guy? Didn't she love Stan? When they parted, Tim looked at Emma and said,

"Carla, I don't feel comfortable smoking in front of a baby. Can't you put her in a crib in another room or something?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's about time for her to go to bed anyway." Carla said as she went upstairs, but it was difficult with Emma squirming and whining in her arms. Finally having enough, Carla just went into the room beside her and opened a closest door.

"Now listen here you little brat." She snarled as she placed Emma down into the closet, "You are gonna sit right here like a good little girl and stay quiet." After that, Carla slammed the closet door on Emma, leaving her in a tight dark space. Emma couldn't see a thing and it was frightening being in a dark place all alone. She stood up the best she could and placed her little hands on the door and started banging her hands on them as she cried out. But it did not seem like anyone was gonna hear her so the only thing she could do was sit and wait. She sat back down and sobbed quietly.

"I want my big brothers." She thought to herself.

After waiting in the dark for almost an hour, Emma was about to doze off when she suddenly heard a voice.

"Where's my sister!?" The voice sounded angry, angry and....familiar, wait...wasn't that?

"Stanny!"  Emma stood up and started banging on the closet door again. She stopped after her hands got sore. After a few minutes of silence she heard footsteps coming towards the closet. The door opened and once Emma adjusted to the light, she saw a face, a face she thought she would never see again.

"Emma! Are you okay!?" Stanley asked as he picked her up from the closet. Emma just clung to Stanley as she cried. Stanley started to inspect her for injuries, and saw that she has minor bruises on her tiny body that were possibly from all the objects pushing against her body. He also saw that her hands were a little red from banging on the door so much. Stan wanted to be pissed, but right now he had a sister to comfort. No doubt that being in the dark for so long in a tight space was not comforting to a one year old. With that, Stanley hugged her tightly and patter her back.

"I know, I know. What did she do to you? It will never happen again." Emma believed every word. She knew that she was safe

As it turns out, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie all came home earlier and when Stanley saw Carla in the hands of another man, he was pissed at first, but then he realized that someone was missing. After he realizing that Emma was not present, everything about Carla was thrown out the window. He became angry for another reason Which lead them to the present, the guy that Carla was with left the house, which leaves Carla, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie. Emma was in Stanley's arms, Shermie was lecturing Carla, and Stanford was off to the side, glaring at Carla.

"Carla, we are gonna call your parents and have them know what happened and we will be pressing charges." Carla looked at Shermie in disbelief.

"You can't do that! They'll never let me leave the house again, they might even force me to spend the night in jail!"

"Should have thought about that before shutting our sister in a closet for hours." Carla stared at Shermie for a second before turning to Stanley.

"Stan! You're just gonna let him do that to me!? Look, if this is about that guy, he's nothing." Stanley just gave Carla a cold look, then he scoffed.

"Carla, I am not your dad. I can't tell you who you can and can't be with and honestly, I don't care. What you did was crossing the line. As soon as you're gone, you better stay gone. I don't know what gave you the idea of stuffing a one year old in a closet. Emma's just a baby."

"So you're gonna just choose your sister over me?!" Carla shouted.

"Choose? Carla, I never had to choose because my sister was always gonna be important to me, she is always gonna be my number one gal because unlike you, she's loyal! Another thing, who smokes around a baby!? You could have gotten Emma sick! I want you out of our house, and out of my life because she-" Stanley pointed to Emma, who was hiding her face in his neck, "Is the only girl I need in my life." Tears were streaming down Carla's face as her eyes were wide with shock, then she turned and walked towards the door. When she opened it, she slightly turned.

"You're gonna end up a lonely man if you keep choosing your sister over everything." Stanley's scowl only deepened as he answered.

"Then I rather be a lonely man than be with someone who hurts my family." Seeing that he was done talking, Carla went out the door, her sniffling getting louder as she disappeared from view. It was silent in the house for a few minutes until Emma started crying again. Stanley patter her back as he tried to console her.

"Its okay Emma, big brother Stanny is here now." Suddenly, Stanley heard a small voice near his ear.

" 'tanny." Stanley's eyes went wide as he looked at Emma. He then looked at his brothers who both had the same look of shock on their faces. He looked back at Emma was was looking back at him.

"Emma, say that again." Emma tilted her head to the side in confusion for a second, "Come on Emma." Stanley then had a thought

"Wait, that's right, she'll probably want me to be specific."

"Emma, who am I?" Emma eyes brightened at Stanley's question and smiled.

" 'tanny." It almost sounded like Stanley's nickname, but without the 'S'.

"Stan, I think she's trying to say your name!" Stanford exclaimed. Stanley was silent, slightly shaking as tears of joy started to run down his face. He felt as if Emma was the only thing that mattered. As if she was the reason why his life is suddenly perfect. He was suddenly taken out of his thoughts when he saw that Shermie and Stanford were staring at him. He quickly wiped his eyes with his free arm and cleared his throat.

"Don't look at me like that! I wasn't crying, I just had dust in my eyes!" Shermie just smiled at him with a smug expression.

"Stan, Ford told me that you cried when you first saw her." Stanford only shrugged.

"I had to tell him, it was the first time you ever cried about something so small."

"Shut up!" Stanley exclaimed. Emma only giggled at the interaction, Stanley turned to face her.

"That didn't give you permission to laugh little missy." But that only made Emma giggle some more.

"Alright boys, that's enough. It's late, it's been a long day, and a certain little sister needs to get some sleep." Shermie said. But when he tried to reach out to take Emma out of Stanley's arms, she whimpered and clung tighter to Stan. It seemed like she didn't want to let her Stanny go.

"It's alright Shermie, I'll take her." Shermie nodded as Stanley took Emma upstairs to bed.

It took a while for Emma to stay in her crib, she kept fussing every time Stanley tried to put her down, but as soon as she fell asleep, Stan went into his shared room where he saw his twin take a five dollar bill out of his pocket. He then turned to Stan and gave it to him.

"A deal's a deal. You win." Stanley looked at the five dollar bill for a second, then he gave it back to Stanford.

"Keep it, I don't want it anymore." Stanford looked at his brother, confused.

"But Stan, the deal was-"

"The deal, doesn't matter anymore. I'm just glad our sister is safe.'"

"Even if it means losing your girlfriend?" Stanley scoffed.

"Oh please, after what she did. I don't even consider her my friend anymore. Honestly, my sister only showed Carla's true colors. No one hurts my sister and get's away with it. Karma will kick her in the butt later, and I will be laughing when that happens." Stanford looked at his twin in surprise. This was the first time he had heard Stanley say something so...mature. Having Emma around really changed him. She made him more compassionate on the outside then he was on the inside. Stanford smiled as he climbed up to his bed.

"Whatever you say, 'Stanny'." Stanley groaned as he sat on his bed.

"You are never gonna let me live that down are you?" Stanford only laughed

"When you get such a cute nickname from a cute baby, how can I?"

"Well knock it off, only Emma can call me that." And he meant it too.

[racebox-of-higgars]

Forcing The Last Page

The third work in the current series I’m working on - The Unkindest Cut Of All. Please read the other parts first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.  

MAJOR SUICIDE TW - please stay safe and do not read if this could potentially be triggering for you. 

Summary: "Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart."

The aftermath of Jack and Race's argument.Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley - loosely based on the same song. 

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31436591 

@angelslibrary 

Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart.

Jack didn’t want him. Jack hated him.

He had looked up to Jack almost his entire life, and Jack hated him.

Down the hall, a door slammed.

Jack had known, of course he had. Jack knew everything about him, and saw in the way he had ducked his eyes, made himself as small as possible in every moment he could so he could slip by as inconspicuous as possible that he wasn’t well. It wasn’t like Race had a choice though. It was either hide it with bittersweet lies or tell the truth and let all of his burdens weigh down on Jack, and that he just couldn’t do.

He wiped his eyes with shaking hands, taking a deep breath as he slowly pulled out a notepad - the one Jack hand bought him with the tiny dinosaurs in the margin -  and a pen. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly. He would say his goodbyes.

He had no idea where to start.

There were a million things he wanted to say, but no right words to say them. There were thousands upon thousands of unsaid words that would stay unsaid forever now, because Race just didn’t know how to put them onto paper.

I hate you.

You’re my best friend.

You bring out the worst in me.

You are the best in me.

I need help.

I love you.

All things that would never be said.

Jack. I know that you’re angry with me at the moment, and probably will be forever, but I still had to say goodbye.

He finally put pen to paper, his writing almost trembling, hesitant as it appeared on the page. He couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted to say. The walls were closing in on him and everything was too hot, too much, and it was all too overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe.

Someone help me, I can’t breathe!

There are a million things I want to tell you, I should tell you, but there are no words to say them, so I’ll leave them unsaid and hope you know them anyway. I know that isn’t possible, but here we are. There is no right way to say goodbye.  

You have questions, so many questions and none of them have sensible answers, none of them have answers that I can rationalise, but I’ll try to answer them as best I can.

Race put the pen down, gasping for air as he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his violent, unforgiving sobs that took everything from him and more. He could do this. How hard was saying goodbye, really?

He forced himself to put pen to paper.

The first question - why? The simplest answer is “I don’t know.” The long winded answer is difficult to explain but I’ll do my best.

It’s like I’m drowning. It sounds cliche, right? But things started going downhill just as college started, but you knew that. It was all too much at once and I didn’t know how to handle it. Suddenly I wasn’t the genius everyone expected me to be. My grades were dropping and for some reason I didn’t care. Everyone had expected so much of me, and I think I crumbled under the pressure. There’s a triumph in crashing down when you’re supposed to be soaring.

Race’s hand flew across the paper now, the words appearing in his mind and on the page almost simultaneously. There was so much in him that he needed out, and this was how he was going to do it. Jack deserved to know. He couldn’t leave without giving him that.

The second - why wasn’t I enough? Again, there is no simple answer. I don’t think anyone was enough. You were right when you said I didn’t want to be helped. By being helped, it meant I had to open up and tell you everything and submit to the mortifying idea of being known, of being seen for everything that I am, flaws and all, and just hope that you wouldn’t leave. I was too afraid to tell you everything, so I told you nothing.

Race regretted not talking to Jack. Well, not really. He regretted what that had led to. The endless fights, the screaming, the hurled insults, the rift between them that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t close. There was nothing he could do now to fix the damage that he had done.

All I really have to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for the way things ended, I’m sorry for tearing us apart, I’m sorry for ruining our family. But most of all, I’m sorry I was never a better brother to you. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were a bad brother to me - you weren’t. I couldn’t have asked for someone better. Please, don’t feel like this is your fault, it’s not. This is just my time to go. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to change that. You can't try to change that. I'm sorry for that.

Race’s tears flowed freely now, he stopped trying to stifle them. uncontrollable, wrenching sobs wracked his body, each one forcing him to gasp for air, but he didn't stop now. An overwhelming sense of desperation crashed over him in waves as he finally put all of his thoughts onto paper. Everything he had been holding in for months now was forcing its way out of him, as if it knew that this was its last chance to.

I know it sounds hard, but I want you to be happy. You have a good life ahead of you, Jack, don't waste it on me. If you don't go to that art school in Santa Fe I will haunt your ass. I don't want you to throw everything away because of me. You're worth more than that.

Race had to force that page. He knew it was all bullshit, a meagre attempt to try to lessen the blow, all of it some mandatory ritual that held no meaning, no purpose. None of it made sense. He tried to inject some humour into it to try to take away from the crushing reality of what was about to happen, but he knew it wouldn't work.

So, I suppose I should end this with a goodbye. An apology and a goodbye.

So I’m sorry for everything, both what we've been through and what you will go through. I love you, no matter how upset I may have been at times. I’ll never stop loving you.

I want you to have Jackie. He comforted me in the worst times, maybe he’ll help you too.

Your friend. No.

Your best friend. No.

Your brother.

Racetrack.

He hastily tore the page from his notebook and set it on the desk. Beside it, he set the worn, ragged stuffed dinosaur, with the word Jackie scrawled under the left foot in smudged blank ink. He pulled out his favourite jacket, an old blue denim one covered in pride pins, so it was more metal than fabric. He started to pull it on, but then he stopped, glancing briefly at his phone as it lit up with a notification.

Spot: Are you able to call tonight? I wanna tell you something.

Behind the message was a photo of him and Spot, with Spot pressing a kiss to his cheek as he laughed, eyes crinkling with his smile. Race couldn't remember being that person, but he couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

You: Sorry, I can't tonight. Had a lot on my plate with studying, and don't feel great so I’m gonna get some sleep. Tell me tomorrow?

Spot: Of course. Goodnight, Racer

You: Goodnight Spot, you can sleep now

“You can sleep now.” That was tradition between them now.  It had started when they had first hit together a year ago. Instead of “I love you,” before falling asleep, Race would say, “you can sleep now.” Spot hadn't been ready to take that step yet, so Race worked around it, and it had stuck.

Race couldn't go without saying goodbye to Spot. He pulled his notebook open again and scribbled another note, more calmly this time, less frantic. He folded the jacket and set it beside Jackie, then set the note on top.

He glanced around the room, going over the million memories he had here. Most of them were good, but more recently they had been tinted black and red and he couldn't break through that to see the good ones on the other side. It just got darker and darker and darker with no sign of light. He walked alone in that darkness, he was the only one who seemed to be able to navigate it. In his darkness, only the blind could see, and he was blind - blind to everything around him trying to help, blind to the hands reaching for him to pull him back to the light. He couldn’t see them.

He pushed the window open, relishing the way the wind whipped his hair. Slowly, he climbed out, and took off into the darkness of night, shrouded by the cover of woodland.

Finally, Jack was able to calm himself down. He thought over their argument, and felt sick as he thought about all the things he had said to Race. Race didn't deserve any of that, and none of it was true. He had said cruel things in the heat of the argument, and he wanted nothing more than to take them all back. He had to make everything right.

He gently knocked on Race’s door, frowning when he didn't receive an answer. He supposed it was to be expected, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He knocked again, louder, but he still got no answer. Then the worry started to settle in, just the feeling of something being slightly wrong . It made Jack feel sick.

“Racer, I’m coming in, okay?” Again, silence on the other side. Slowly, Jack pushed the door open.

A cold breeze blew in through the open window. Why did Race have his window open in November? Then he realised that Race wasn’t there . He glanced around, his eyes falling upon the stuffed dinosaur on the small desk tucked into the corner, and his heart sank.

He picked up the note with trembling hands.

He read the first few lines, before it slipped from his shaking fingers to the floor.

His knees buckled, and he felt himself tear in two, but he wasn't truly there.

Everything came crashing down around him and the world was spinning all too fast, too much at once and nothing stopped and nothing let up and everything was so, so wrong and nothing could fix it.

Race was gone, and he couldn’t fix it.

[summahsunlight]

All For You, Part 4

Rating: T

Word Count: 2010

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Pilot!Reader

Summary: Your life in the Resistance was not easy, being married to Commander Poe Dameron and a skilled pilot yourself. When you unexpectedly get pregnant, your life is forever changed. Raising a child on base is hard, but never having parents of your own as a child, you are determined to love your little girl and give her the best life. Poe is equally as devoted to you and your daughter, vowing to keep you both safe from the impending threat of the First Order.

Taglist: @thescarletknight2014​, @elmoakepoke​, @xxidontwikeitxx​, @liadamerondjarin​, @marvelofwitch​, @blushingwueen​, @april-14-blog​

Here is the next part! The taglist is still open, just let me know if you want to be added🥰Feedback is always appreciated! I love to hear from you!

Poe looked at the anticipation in the eyes of his squadron--as they waited for him to confirm what they already knew--no thanks to BB-8. He swallowed, nervously, his brown eyes traveling to you for a second. You were positively pale--then again, that could be because you were still not feeling well and had nothing to do with the fact that your secret had been revealed.  

Snap drummed his fingers on the table, catching Poe’s attention and the commander could see that the rest of the squadron was eagerly awaiting him to say something. 

Reaching underneath the table, Poe found your hand and grasped it. “Yes,” he said, slowly, calmly, “we’re having a baby--we didn’t tell you guys because we’re still wrapping our heads around it ourselves. It wasn’t like this was...ah... planned.”

“Are you... are you going to raise the baby here?” Jess asked, quietly.

“Yes,” you replied, “where else would we raise our baby?”

Karé, Snap, and Jess all exchanged glances. “Well,” Snap said, “it’s just seems to make more sense if... the baby went to live with Poe’s dad--I mean, is a base really that safe for a baby?”

Poe hadn’t told you yet, but he had taken into consideration--a lot of consideration--about having his dad take the baby. He knew this would be incredibly difficult for you, knowing that you were abandoned as a baby--but it was the safety of your child you were talking about. “We haven't really discussed it.”

You threw him a look. What did he mean by that? You had discussed it, when you told him that you were pregnant you had made it clear that you wanted to raise your baby. No where in that conversation had you discussed shipping that baby off to Yavin IV to live with Kes. “Yes, we have,” you said, annoyed. “We agreed that we’re going to raise the baby here.” 

Snap knew immediately that he’d set a fire and now desperately tried to put it out. “Ah, well, if you are going to raise the baby here--we’ll all be here to help you--anyway we can. My mom always said it takes a village to raise a child, so we’ll happily be your village.”

“If you need someone to baby-sit, we’re willing to do it,” Jess supplied.

“And if you don’t trust the droid killer--Karé and I are available.”

“Hey! A baby is different than a droid! I can take care of a baby!”

“I dunno if Poe and Y/N are going to feel comfortable leaving their baby with you, Pava.”

Jess glared at Snap and Karé; she might have reputation as being bad luck for droids, but she would never let anything hurt your baby.  Poe and you were family and thus that baby was family. “You guys are the worst.”

Poe smiled, lightheartedly. He knew that his friends would be there if you needed help with the baby--but they had important jobs within the Resistance as well. He knew that you were mad at him; he could see the seething look in your eyes when he said that you hadn’t discussed where the baby was going to live. Oh, the two of you were going to have it out once you got back to your room. “We appreciate your offer to help,” he said, looking at his friends. “But... we’re all rather busy here.”

Karé nodded. “Exactly why you need all the help you can get, Poe. We might not be parents, but we’re not stupid. We know this is going to be hard and we want to be there for you guys. You’d do the same for any of us.”

Finishing the food you had not wanted to eat to begin with, you stood, said you weren’t feeling well, and wished them all good-night. Black Squadron watched as you stormed out of the mess hall. 

“If you need a place to stay--our couch is available,” Snap said, smiling.

“Am I crazy in wanting the baby to go live with my dad?” Poe asked.

“No,” Jess said, shaking her head. “You want the baby to be safe--maybe Y/N can go with the baby to live with your dad?”

It was an idea that crossed Poe’s mind but he knew you would never go for it--you were just as dedicated to the Resistance was he was. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Thanks, guys,” he said, standing up. “I’ll see you in the morning. I need to go get this ass chewing done and over with.”

As Poe walked away, Snap called out after him, “Remember! Our sofa is always available to you, Dameron!”

----

Once you were back in your quarters, you flopped down onto the bed in a sob, which caused BB-8 to perk up and ask if everything was okay. Screaming into the pillow only seemed to alarm the little droid more and he was half-way towards the door to go find Poe when you shouted at him to stop.

BB-8 turned and rolled towards you. Sitting up on the bed, you wiped your eyes. “I’m sorry, BeeBee. I’m...tired and angry and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. It’s not your fault.”

Falling back onto the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling. You knew that Poe’s heart was in the right place--wanting to send your baby to live with Kes--but at the same time you couldn’t believe that after everything you had been through, he was still thinking about it. You refused to abandon your baby like you had been abandoned. Refused. Poe was just going to have to understand that. 

“So, should I just grab my things and head to Snap’s?”

“I dunno, should you?”

Poe sighed, heavily, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, do you honestly think I just want to dump our baby on my dad? I hate the idea; I know how much my parents hated leaving me--but right now I cannot justify raising our child here--not with a war looming in the not so distant future.”

You sat up and glared at him. “Even after I told you how much I wanted to raise our baby--that I didn’t want to be like my parents and just leave--you still want to hand our baby off to Kes? It’s like you didn’t even listen to me, Poe.”

He licked his lips. “It’s not a decision that I take lightly. It breaks my heart to think about leaving our baby, but we need to think about what’s best for the baby--not us, sweetheart. My dad is more than willing to take the baby until this is over and we can go home.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. “What’s best for our baby is to be raised by its parents--not left behind! I won’t do it, Poe! I won’t leave my baby! I know it’s going to be hard, I know that it’s going to change a lot for both of us! And now, you tell me you’ve already talked to your dad! How could you leave me out of decision like this, Poe?”

“Because I knew this is the way you would react,” Poe said, calmly. 

“And yet you did it anyway,” you snapped.

“I don’t want to argue. So, I’m gonna stay with Snap tonight.”

“There’s nothing to fight over. We made our decision already.”

Poe looked at you, his brown eyes intense. “Do you think this was easy for me? All I want is to keep you and the baby safe. I know I’ll never be able to convince you to walk away from the Resistance--my dad was the next best option. You and this baby are my life, sweetheart! I would give up my life for you if it meant protecting you and our baby!”

You could barely see him through all your tears. You knew how much you meant to him, how much the baby meant to him--and you knew that he would do anything for you to keep you both safe. “Please, Poe, please don’t make me give up my baby.” 

BB-8 chirped, sadly. Poe glanced at his droid and let out a loud sigh. He reached for your hands and pulled you to your feet, wrapping you into his arms. You buried your face into his chest and sobbed. You were hating how this pregnancy was messing so much with your body that you couldn’t control your emotions. His hand rubbed your back, the other cupped the back of your head--and he just let you cry. “I won’t make you give up the baby. Just promise me that if the time comes when it gets too dangerous for the baby, that you’ll take the baby to Yavin and stay with my dad.”

That seemed reasonable and you knew it was, but for whatever reason you just sobbed harder.  Poe’s arms tightened around your shaking body. “Maybe we should have asked Doctor Kalonia about giving you something for your mood swings,” he teased, chuckling softly. 

“Not funny!” you snapped into his chest. “I hate this! I hate crying all the time! And I hate being angry and scared and... I just hate this! I hate feeling like I don’t have control of anything right now!”

“I know, baby,” he said, gently. His lips brushed against your cheek. “Does it help to know that I love you no matter what kind of mood you throw at me?”

You sniffled. “It helps a little.”

Poe kissed your cheek again. “I love you; no matter what.”

Some days you felt like you didn't deserve him; today was one of those days. He was just trying to take care of you and the baby and you had gotten furious at him. Now, you were crying in his arms and he still loved you. 

Gently he lifted you off the floor and carried you to the bed, softly laying you there. Pulling off your boots, Poe smiled at you. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep, babe. Obviously you’re tired and stressed--that isn’t good for the baby.”

“Do...do you forgive me for all the awful things I said?”

“Already forgotten, sweetheart.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because--you were the only girl to put up with me.”

Half giggling, half crying still, you pushed him away playfully. You had been painfully shy at flight school--Poe had pulled you from that shell, he had befriended you before he fell in love with you. Although, he would often tell you that it was love at first sight for him. “Not true. Lots of girls would have put up with you if meant getting a date with you.”

Poe cocked a smile. “True,” he said, leaning forward and kissing you. “I was madly in love with you though from the moment I laid eyes on you. Drove my roommate crazy. Besides making me the happiest guy on campus when you agreed to a date--you made him the happiest guy because he didn’t have to listen to me rant on and on about how much I wanted to ask you out.”

“I remember him... he was cute.”

“He’s also married, now. Him and his husband are very happy.”

Yawning, you laughed.  Poe stroked your cheek with his thumb and coaxed you to fall asleep. “Are you still going to stay with Snap?” you asked him, watching him, lazily.

Sighing, Poe continued to trace circles in your cheek with his thumb. “If you want me too.”

Shaking you head, you started to drift off. “I want you to stay. I’m not...I’m not angry anymore.”

“I have reports to finish. I won’t keep you up?”

“No, you won’t keep me up.”

Poe chuckled as you fell fast asleep.  Getting up off the bed, he tucked the blankets around and went to the desk to complete his reports. And you were right, his working didn’t wake you.

[backtothestart02]

If Only She Knew - 7/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: An angsty mess. Enjoy! lol.

Commissioned by @jennlee44

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 7 -

She ran to get her dad who was perched on his beach chair, pointed Barry out to him, and once she was sure he had spotted him, she ran back into the lake.

Joe was briefly confused. “Iris, wa- Aren’t you gonna…?”

But she was too far gone and splashing too loudly to hear him, so he shook his head and muttered something Barry could only imagine was about not going too far out.

“Son, what in God’s name happened?” Joe asked, concern rather than panicked over Barry’s scratched up feet and knees. The sand lightly covered them and made for more painful movement when Barry tried to bend and flex.

Barry looked up at him and sheepishly explained how there had been unexpectedly sharp rocks where he and Iris were running, and how the first set of them had sent them toppling over onto the sand.

“Jesus.” His ran his hand over his face and gingerly got Barry to his feet. “Can you bend your knees a little? It’s not exactly a short distance from here to our spot on the beach.”

“Oh, yeah,” Barry squeaked. “I’ll be fine.”

But one step and he nearly folded, the sand having coated the cuts and making the pain worse.

Barry sucked in a breath of air through his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” Joe said, gently helping Barry back to a sitting position on the sand. “You stay here.” Barry nodded. “I’ll go get some clean water and the first aid kit. We’ll have you patched up in no time.”

Barry forced a smile and nodded.

“Okay. Thanks, Joe.”

Joe shook his head, marveling at Barry’s wounds for a moment.

“It’s a miracle Iris didn’t get hurt. What do you think stopped her?”

“Uh…I think she just…tripped on top of me after I fell, so I…I cushioned her, I think.”

Joe nodded slowly, slightly suspicious as to what that had looked like and meant, at least for Barry. But he accepted the explanation since Barry had nothing more to say.

“Right. Okay, I’ll be back.”

Joe jogged lightly across the beach, gathered supplies and was back before Barry could even think to move again. Joe watched him like a hawk from that point on, making sure he didn’t move a muscle while the cold water, Neosporin, and bandages were applied. Barry hissed in pain but tried to keep his reaction under control so Barry wouldn’t worry too much. After all, he wasn’t bleeding that excessively. The cuts should be cleared up within a day or two at the most.

And that was how Barry wound up sitting on a beach chair under a large multi-colored umbrella in the sand, watching Joe and Iris build sandcastles down by the shore.

Iris was very particular about how her sandcastles should be made. In fact, she probably would’ve been happier if Joe had made a separate sandcastle and they’d competed to see who made the best one. Barry would judge, of course, and Iris would win. Not just because she was his best friend who he was also madly in love with, but because she was an expert sandcastle builder. Both Joe and Barry paled in comparison when it came to their sandcastle-making skills.

Under normal circumstances, Barry would either compete against her or build with her, and Joe would judge. But these were not normal circumstances. These circumstances involved him not only being injured physically and able to really move around in the sand, but he’d been an absolute idiot and not kissed Iris West back when she surprised him by pressing her lips to his after they fell over the sharp rocks.

He didn’t know how to make up for it, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Iris was embarrassed and she was convinced his inability to act in time meant he didn’t feel the same way. He knew exactly how she acted under those circumstances. She avoided. She avoided constantly. And when she wasn’t avoiding she was heartbreakingly vulnerable to the point that you just didn’t know if there was anything you could say that would make her feel better.

And to top it all off, he couldn’t tell Joe, his number one confidant when it came to all things Iris – though he still hadn’t told him how he felt about her. That was one secret he intended to take to his grave. That was, of course, until Iris made it blatantly obvious that she had feelings for him.

That still didn’t mean he was going to tell Joe, though. He’d split up their sleeping arrangements for sure, afraid them sleeping so near to each other risked pregnancy; and damn if his baby girl was going to get pregnant on his watch, even it was by the only boy he approved of in the present and the future.

In that tent was the only place Barry was going to get through to Iris and talk to her about what had happened on the beach. She’d probably pretend to be asleep or cry. Or both. But she wouldn’t be able to run away from him. She would have to at least hear him out.

Did that mean he’d have to tell her he was in love with her?

Oh, God.

In a tent? On a camping trip? After she made the first move and he failed to reciprocate?

That was not how he had imagined telling her at all.

Under the circumstances that he would tell her.

Oh, boy. He did not know if he was up for this. After all, it could mean risking their entire friendship. Over one kiss? One miraculous kiss. He still remembered the pressure of her lips against his, those beautiful, luscious lips he’d dreamed of kissing one day.

Damn it to hell, he’d have to risk it.

Iris Ann West was his best friend, but he also firmly believed she was his soulmate. He was going to fix this. Tonight.

…

It was worse than he thought.

The day at the beach had been cut short by Iris getting upset that Joe wasn’t doing his part in making the best possible sandcastle with her. She stomped all over it, walked back to their spot on the beach, ignored Barry when he asked her what was wrong, and strutted back to the campsite.

Joe told Barry what happened as soon as he reached him, and then of course pushed him to gather up the supplies and head back as fast as he could – that his wounds would allow.

“Honey, wait a minute. Would you just slow down? Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. And you can slow down yourself. I’m just going back to the campsite.”

Well, Iris did not just go back to the campsite. She also grabbed her bike to presumably go take a shower at the bathrooms near the entrance – those were the nice ones. Only, she was gone an hour, and even Iris didn’t take that long taking a shower.

“I’m going to go check out those bathrooms,” Joe said, prepared to take his own bike and barge into the Ladies’ room.

“Joe, I don’t thin-” Barry protested, and was soon added in by Iris who suddenly showed up in cozy clothes and the flip-flops she’d left in.

“Barry’s right, Dad. I’m right here.”

He was briefly elated. That was the first time she’d said his name all afternoon since the ‘incident’.

It didn’t last, though.

“Young lady, have you been showering this whole time?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. You know I don’t take that long of a shower. Those stalls were icky anyway.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Then where the hell have you been?” Joe demanded.

“No need to raise your voice, Dad. I’m here now.”

“Iris Ann West, where did you go?”

She sighed dramatically. “Just took a lap around the lake on my bike. That’s it. Okay? God.”

Joe’s eyes widened, and so did Barry’s. Iris could be rebellious in theory, but it was usually behind her dad’s back, not to his face.

“Get in your tent.”

She scoffed. “What?”

“Get in your tent right now.”

“What did I-”

“Iris,” Barry warned under his breath, and she shot him a glare.

“Go,” Joe ordered, and she dramatically spun around and went into the tent, zipping it hard and fast behind her and miraculously not catching her finger in it.

“I didn’t do anything,” she muttered on her way.

Joe shook his head after she’d quieted down and was no doubt pouting on top of her sleeping bag.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I was doing the best I could on that damn sandcastle.”

Barry swallowed.

“Do you know?” He turned to look at Barry who pretended to not notice. “Bear.”

“Hmm?” He looked over at him. “Oh, what? Me? Nope. I have no idea, Joe. It’s just…” He looked away towards the tent. “Weird.”

Joe sat down in a chair and sighed.

“Maybe she’s…” He lowered his voice. “On her period?”

Barry blushed fiercely, unable to find the words to answer.

The sound of a zipper unzipping quickly was suddenly heard and Iris popped her head out of the tent.

“I am not on my period,” she seethed, then quickly shut herself back in the tent again.

Joe looked back at Barry.

“Guess not?” Barry offered.

Joe pressed two fingers to his forehead.

“I’m gonna take a nap.”

Barry nodded. “I would but…” He gestured towards the tent with the currently angry Iris in it.

“You can sleep in mine if you’d like to, son,” Joe said. “I can always sleep in the hammock.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

And so, he did. And by the time dinner rolled around, Iris had calmed down and was acting like nothing had happened. Joe managed to squeeze an apology out of her when Barry left to change into more comfortable clothes. It was difficult though, so there was still some tension when Barry returned, but he was confident that all would be well after their conversation tonight. If he had anything to say about it, at least.

Iris excused herself for bed after toasting just one marshmallow that evening. She didn’t even make a s’more out of it. Barry excused himself shortly after, because she was not going to be asleep by the time he made his grand gesture.

“You sure, son?” Joe asked as he was leaving. “You don’t want to wait until…you know who is asleep?” He lowered his voice to a whisper.

Barry shook his head.

“I’m gonna try to talk to her.”

Joe’s eyes widened, but he nodded anyway.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“You either,” he joked lightly, but it was quiet, and Joe was already looking up at the stars through the trees, so Barry figured he probably hadn’t heard him.

As he had suspected, Iris was turned away towards the wall of the tent on her side and was pretending to be asleep when he stepped inside the tent. He went along with it till he was tucked into his own sleeping bag and then turned on the light between them.

A slight irritated moan was heard from her end, so he knew for sure she wasn’t sleeping.

“Iris.”

She tried to level out her breathing, so her body wasn’t moving so quickly with each breath.

“Iris, I know you’re not sleeping.”

She tried to snore. Barry had to suppress laughter. He just barely managed it.

“That’s the worst snore I’ve ever heard.”

She made to kick him from inside her sleeping bag, but she’d moved herself so far away from his that she ended up hitting nothing instead and looking foolish.

“Aiming for something?” he asked, amused.

“Jerk,” she muttered.

“Oh. She speaks.”

She huffed, then turned towards him.

“What do you want, Barry?”

“I want to know why you’re taking out what happened between us out on your dad.”

Her jaw dropped.

“And Iris…” He tried to reach for her, but she moved out of the way. He sighed. “Are you going to avoid me forever? We’re best friends.”

She frowned, apparently not knowing what to do with that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t, but-”

She turned around in her sleeping bag again and faced the wall.

“Goodnight, Barry.”

“Iris-”

“You don’t have to go hiking with me on Friday anymore, Barry. I know you never wanted to, anyway.”

“Iris, I want to go with you!”

“No, you don’t. You were just doing it because I begged. And you can’t now anyways, because of your cuts.”

“They’ll be healed up in a couple days. That leaves plenty of time between then and Friday.”

“Please go to sleep, Barry.” She sniffled.

Darn it. She was crying.

“Iris, please…please don’t cry.”

She flinched hard when he touched her shoulder lightly.

“Please stop, Barry.”

He sighed and relented.

“Okay, Iris. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

That made Iris shake, and Barry knew she was fighting not to cry out loud. And it was all because of him, and his stupid lack of kissing reciprocation. Ugh. He hated himself.

“Goodnight, Iris,” he whispered, then turned the light off and turned towards his side of the tent to fall asleep.

Somehow Iris fell asleep before him. He stayed awake for hours, wondering how this camping trip could possibly improve for the better when he’d already ruined it so sufficiently.

Unable to fall asleep while next to her, he finally got up quietly and snuck out of the tent. One of the doors was left open in the car and there was a pillow and blanket inside from the ride up, so Barry took both and scrunched together his tall, lanky frame as best as he could to sleep in the car.

Hopefully, things would look better in the morning. Somehow…

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Chapter 41

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/68678841

When they arrived back in the hotel, they looked  for the other band members, so they could tell them their idea. "Where have you been all day?", Chris asked them when they found each other at the bar. "Are you up to something?" Norbert gave Morrie a look. "Uh, well, we..." "We actually have an idea", Morrie finished the sentence. "Oh. And do you plan to let us take part in it?" "That's why we're here. It's about our housing situation. We think we deserve something better than these hotels here." He was puzzled that the band broke out in laughter.

"That's great!", Chris blurted out, "We keep sitting around in these doss houses. It's time for a change!" "I agree," Brad tossed in, "it's time we see the Avalon from the inside." "For starters", Matt added and they laughed again. "Morrie, you always have the best ideas", Chris said, putting an arm around the pianist. "The question is wether or not Virgil likes it", Matt pondered. "Could as well give us a treat, that old slave driver", Chris sneered. Morrie held up his hands. "Guys, wait! You misunderstood me! I don't mean another, bigger hotel, I mean no hotels at all!" Now he recieved questioning looks.

"Do you remember we used to live in a house once?" "That dump?" Brad lifted an eyebrow. "I don't say we have to keep it that way. We could restore it, give it a good beautification. And most off all, install an alarm system." "Do you plan to hide gold in there?" "No, but I'm sick of all those people breaking in our privacy, watching our every step, reporters that dress as pages and follow us around in the corridors to fill their gossip rags with stories. This has to end!" "That doesn't happen every day", Matt tried to calm him down. "Most people leave us alone." "It's way too often and also it's getting worse. We can barely move outside without being noticed and it won't be long until they start to bother us in here. In our own house we'd only have guests if we want them." "Well", Chris said and looked at Norbert, who began to speak.

"It makes sense, doesn't it? If we want us to have one last bit of privacy in the future we have to come up with something new." He sat up. "Just imagine, we can do whatever we want with this house, we don't need to do without any conveniences. And with our next tour in sight, I'm sure we can afford all this."

Their fifth album was out and they had planned a tour through Great Britain. They were finally popular enough to be allowed such privileges and surely Virgil's negotiating skills had been quite helpful too. It was the first time that their fans from outside Wellington Wells would see them on stage and the band was excited about it. The tickets sold like hot cakes. There was no need to worry about their financial status.

Chris nodded. "If you put it like this, it doesn't sound too bad." "Our own palace", Matt joked. "But no cheap compromises", Brad said firmly. "I won't live in a building lot. We'll wait until it's finished and it's gonna be awesome." "Deal!", Morrie concluded, feeling like a heavy weight was lifted from his chest.

The same day they sat down with Virgil to discuss their idea. "What do you think it would cost us to build us a residence...", Norbert began and eyed the others. "With five bedrooms", Brad added. "And guest rooms", said Chris. "And a bar", Matt proposed. "And a sound studio", Morrie decided, winning a lot of praise for that. "Hold your horses for a second", Virgil interrupted their creative effusions. "What quarter do you want to break down for this?" "We don't have to", Morrie said. "we still have this empty house in Hamlyn Village we used to live in. And that quarter was full of ruins." "We haven't been there for years though", Brad added. "We have no idea what it looks like now." "That's not hard to find out", Virgil said and then shortly paused, furrowing his brows. "I know an architect who's probably crazy enough to do this. I can't tell you the costs just now because we don't even have a draft." "Crazy sounds just right", Norbert said happily. "Just turn on your charms and he'll give us a discount." Chris smirked.

The next days were dedicated to their tour. It was another difficult time for Morrie. The media hype outside Wellington Wells was just as big. They were constantly dragged in front of a camera and asked for interviews. They also had another appearance in a TV show. If they wanted some calm and quiet they needed to stay in their rooms. And then they had to attend all these parties... For inexplicable reasons they were expected to go there. Virgil didn't grant them a lot of freetime and he and Morrie once broke into a fight because of that. Morrie felt sick seeing all those groupies swarming around. They also tried him and he had a hard time spelling out to them that he wasn't interested. On the other hand he had to pretend that he enjoyed himself at least a little bit. He couldn't watch Norbert all the time, who always stayed long at these parties and came back very clingy, as if he had to make up for something. Then again he was glad he could cuddle into Norbert when they were alone. Perhaps he just missed him. Then he was ashamed of being so leery. Norbert had his "dark past", but he did never betray him. Without him he wouldn't bear all that fuss, Morrie was sure.

Norbert didn't have an easy time, either. He too was hoping that everything would get better with their new home. Even though he didn't know how it could get better. He was still sitting on the fence. Their tour made them more popular, he couldn't hide from his fans anymore, especially not at the parties they kept being invited to. And he didn't want to hide. He loved to be in the center of attention. He wanted to savour that to the full and it was hard to hold back. It hurt Morrie and he understood that. But even if he wanted to hide, he couldn't, if he didn't want to add an angry Virgil to the scene. So he tried to bring all that in line, and it was very exhausting. Especially while watching his friends simply enjoying themselves without regrets. When he was back in their hotel room, he was mostly very tired and clung to Morrie, who thankfully didn't ask any questions.

At the end, he was proud of his success. Also Morrie was. It didn't leave him cold when his fans started screaming and crying at the mere sight of him.

Back in Wellington Wells, they started working on their new residence. The architect that Virgil had found created stunning drafts. Their own studio took shape and Norbert was happy he could spare himself the endlessly long and dry sessions in the Parade District. Everyone had his own bedroom and Norbert and Morrie designed theirs with ulterior motives. They installed the most modern safety system to avoid uninvited guests, so that was taken care of too. They had more freetime after their tour and it was a much more relaxed and happy phase.

When they finally moved in, a crowd of pressmen and fans gathered in front of their property, watching them walk in. Morrie had no trouble to be on his best behaviour, because he was sure to escape from the mass soon enough. Closing the door behind them brought peace and quiet. The band looked around in every room, made themselves comfortable and inaugurated their in-site bar when they had approved everything.

"I can't believe it's still the same house", Norbert said shaking his head. "Yeah, incredible what we got out of that old shack", Matt agreed. "It's about pulling the right strings", Chris added, thinking of Virgil. "And the right ideas." Norbert poked Morrie into the side, who waved them off. "Guys, I'm dead beat. Don't hold it against me if I won't last long tonight." "Are you kidding me? You're the one we owe all this, you can't skip out on us now." "Have at least one drink with us", Brad insisted and poured him a glass. "Sure, I don't mind one drink." "And then another one." "Don't push your luck."

Chris shook his head. "I wonder why you keep running away from all the fun. We're tired too, after all." "I'm not running, trust me, I'm way too exhausted for that." "I think you do." "So what? Try to stop me." "There, there, don't argure. Everybody can do what they want", Norbert interrupted them. "And if we want to fight, then what?" "Fair enough, but I don't bind up open wounds and don't give mouth-to-mouth respiration." "Not even to Morrie?" "He won't need it." "Oh, really?" Chris made a shocked face. The others laughed out loud. Morrie, who was taller than Chris, gave him a smugly smile. "Calm down. Have another one." Brad refilled his glass.

"Anyway, our nomadic life finally comes to an end", Morrie said happily. "Yeah, we won't run after these snooty TV stars anymore. Now, they will run after us", Matt agreed. Brad patted his shoulder. "Exactly. It's time we'll have our own parties. Can't wait to liven things up in here, make them beat a path to our door." "They already stand in line", Chris sneered. "I only need to open the door and we have a spontaneous party." "Please not today", Morrie said, "unless you want me to lose my self-control." "I see, baby Morrie needs to sleep."

Norbert stayed longer, celebrating with the others. Then he went into his bedroom and found Morrie lying in his bed. Norbert sat down next to him and grabbed his shoulder, carefully shaking him. "Hey, there. Did you get lost? This is my room", he whispered. Morrie opened his eyes. "I beg your pardon", he said affectedly and sat up. "In this case I better go." Norbert held him back. "No, you don't have to. Stay with me." Morrie stopped and looked at him. "You want me here?" Norbert ran a hand along Morrie's back. "That's right." "In your bed?" "Exactly." Their faces came very close.

"You don't have any...indecent plans, do you?" Morrie lifted an eyebrow. "What if I have?" Norbert kissed a trail along Morrie's neck. His lover closed his eyes with relish. His voice rasped when he said: "But it's not quite the thing, two boys in one bed." Norbert gently touched his chin and moved his head to look him deeply into his dark brown eyes. "I don't care what they say. I want you to shag me, right here, into this mattress, until I beg for mercy, because I love you." Morrie's eyes flickered. "It would be cruel to refuse...", he agreed. Norbert nodded when they leaned closer. Their lips met, and entangled in a kiss they fell into the sheets and loved each other as if it was their last night.

They lived in a paradise they had created for themselves, until things changed again.

One day, Norbert opened the door to his bedroom and was surprised to find a female fan lying in his bed, being very affectionate. After she had chased him through the room he hid behind his guitar and played a song for her, what made her stop and listen in awe. The problem was that he attracted more fans with this, who now filled the room. When the song was over, he ran out and locked himself in the living room, where his friends sat and stared at him.

"Why do you lock the door?", Matt asked. "Did any of you leave the entrance open?" Norbert sounded frantic. They eyed each other. "No, why? Did someone break in?" "You said a mouthful! A whole mob of groupies invaded my room!" His friends laughed. "Oh, there they are. We missed them already", Chris sneered. "Now seriously, you baited them yourself with your sweet singing voice", Brad said. "Snatched them away from us. And now you lock them out. That's not very hospitable." "So, they are your guests?" "What did you think?" "This isn't a cloister after all", Chris added. He got up and opened the door again. Outside, the confused fans were already waiting. "Don't mind him, he's a bit shy", he explained to them. "He doesn't look like that", one of them said leering. Matt poked Norbert . "Now be a good boy and give them a drink." Norbert, who saw no way out of this situation, played along.

They eventually had more visitors. The Make Believes didn't only let fans in, but started to throw parties. All kinds of celebrity from Wellington Wells gathered in their residence, TV stars, models, artists and other creative and influential people. Soon, it was a constant coming and going. Norbert found a lot of inspiration at these events. His feelings overwhelmed him on a regular basis, and he locked himself up in their studio from time to time, not to please Morrie, but to record his ideas. On the other side he felt trapped in a grotesque game. All that hype, only for five musicians. Sometimes he feared someone would notice what was actually going on, and their fame and glory would collapse like a house of cards. On other days he believed it would never end. And sometimes he wished it would pause for a while. It was tiring to play the game, to keep the balance, so he could always return to Morrie.

It hurt to could-shoulder his guests. He knew the word spread that he was dismissive. They began to avoid him, rallied around the other band members instead, whose popularity had already surpassed his. Nick Lightbearer was someone they swooned over at a concert, but they moved on when they got to know him in person. He had been mysterious for a while, but being dismissive didn't work as good for him as it worked for Morrie, who always had this cold and serious aura. The fans just stopped trying to get his affection because it was hopeless. He lost them, and he didn't know how to get them back. He was envious of his friends and sometimes started a fight with them for no other reason than to blow off steam. After that he felt even worse.

Sometimes he felt like standing in front of an abyss that was about to swallow him for good.

He wished Morrie would understand him, wouldn't leave him alone with this, watching him from a distance, showing his mistrust from time to time. It was obvious that Morrie was disappointed about how things turned out. And Norbert had the feeling that he put the blame on him.

Their relationship was already tense when Norbert saw Morrie sitting on a couch with another man, unusually happy and casual, until the man got up and left, not without giving Morrie a pat on his shoulder. "Who was that?", Norbert asked when they were alone. "Oh, you know, just the pianist of the Tunnel Rats, a very talented man. We had an inspiring conversation, nothing else." Morrie sounded defensive. "Okay...I was just thinking...He seems to like you very much." Norbert immediately wished he would've bit his tongue instead. "He's just one of the few pleasant guests that aren't blatant groupies or self-exposers who talk about nothing but themselves all day", Morrie snapped, mood seemingly ruined again. "I'm just glad you're having a good time for once", Norbert tried. "No you're not, you're jealous, and you have no right to be", Morrie blurted out. "I'm still not enjoying it as much as you." He made Norbert feel a pang in his chest.

"I'm not enjoying it." "It's plain to see." "You think so? I have a different impression", Norbert now snapped back. "They keep asking me: 'What's wrong, Nicky? Why are you so prude? Why are you so boring? Are you afraid of girls all of a sudden? Trouble getting it up?' It's a shame you don't notice that. I guess hiding in your room all thay isn't the best way to find out what's going on!" "I thought we didn't want to end up like this", Morrie said dryly, as if he hadn't heard Norbert, what steamed him up even more. "Is that my fault?", he shouted. "You could've helped me talking them out of it!" "I tried that, but give me one good reason why we shouldn't invite all stars of Wellington Wells!" "Not fundamentally, but the frequency", Morrie insisted. "It's okay for them! We still have our free days!" "We used to spend them differently!" "I can't do anything about that!" "Oh great, so there's no way out!" "None at all!" Morrie shook his head. "This is all a game for you, isn't it?" "You have no idea..." "No, you have no idea! You can always do what you want, enjoy yourself with anyone you like! And you like them all! It doesn't matter! Everybody can get a piece of the famous Lightbearer! Others have to choose, but not you! You don't know how it feels to be depending. Sometimes I wonder if you even know what love is!" Morrie left, slamming the door. Norbert stayed behind, feeling like Morrie had pushed him over the edge, and he was falling, falling...

He spent the night alone, because Morrie didn't visit him and he didn't dare to knock at his door. He had never considered to be not good enough for Morrie. But now the scales fell from his eyes. He wasn't as graceful as Morrie, he found himself rather clumsy around him, he wasn't as smart, he didn't understand music the way Morrie did, who must be tired of explaining it every time, and he couldn't hide how much he like vulgar parties. He had always admired Morrie for all this. He had never thought it could be the reason why they couldn't be together. The thought pulled him further into the depth. He started to fail at everything. He didn't spend time with Morrie and he was a miserable host. He locked himself up in their studio, not to work, but to drink. His inspiration was gone.

One day, he faced the inevitable. Their next performance was due, and he felt empty inside when he entered his dressing room. Now they were popular enough to have their own. The bright colors of his suit hurt his eyes. He wished it was grey. The face that looked at him through the mirror looked so wrong. That was him. Just a big fake. And today it would come out. Because he couldn't play along anymore. He couldn't even walk out of this room. Instead he locked the door and sat back down, waiting for something. The end of the game, maybe. At least something else than the loud knocking at his door, that made him panic. The band was outside, ready to drag him on stage as soon as they get ahold of him. He yelled at them to piss off, and that he wouldn't play a note no matter what they did. Brad promised he would break down the door and get him, so Norbert crouched under the table and waited for the threat to come true. Instead there was nothing to hear but his own quiet sobs. Then someone knocked again, carefully.

"Nick? It's me, Virgil. May I come in?" Norbert tensed up. "No...no...don't...don't bite, please, don't bite", he stuttered in between sobs. "I won't", the manager assured him. His voice was calm. "I just want to talk to you." "There's nothing to talk about!" "Then let me see if you're okay." Norbert hesitated. He liked the sound of his voice and he wanted to believe him. Finally he left his hideout to take the risk. After unlocking the door, he fled back under the table. The door was carefully opened and Virgil Dainty stepped in, tall, elegantly dressed and intimidating. But his eyes were mild when he crouched down to look at Norbert. "Are you hurt?" Norbert faintly shook his head. "Is it my fault? Did I stress you out?" "No...no...it's...", he sobbed, "just look at me! I'm such a fake!" He pressed his eyes shut and tears ran down his cheeks. "This is all wrong! I can't do this any longer!"

"You doubt yourself. Everyone has self doubts from time to time. I know you're afraid, but you can defeat it." "I can't", Norbert said fiercely. "This is the end! You have to cancel the show." "Who said you're a fake?" Norbert shook his head. "I just know it." "So, nobody", Virgil concluded. "If anything, they love you. They came all the way to see you, the Nick Lightbearer they know and love." "They don't know me. No one knows me." "Look, whatever you feel right now, you're not alone." Suddenly he had Virgil's hand on his back, that sqeezed him gently. "I'm always there to help you." "You can't help me with this. Not even you", Norbert cried and curled up into a ball. "Don't you want to try it out one last time? You didn't perform for a while. What if you only need to get back into the flow?" "No, I can't! I can't! Please, cancel it!" Virgil gave an impalpable sigh. "Well...you know, it's not beneficial to cancel a concert at this stage. The fans already payed their tickets, they won't simply go. It could get me into a difficult situation." Norbert silenced, quietly sobbing, waiting for Virgil to scold. But the manager remained calm. "I...I can't perform...I'd only embarrass us", he insisted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dainty", he added more meek.

"Virgil. Just call me Virgil." Norbert's heart skipped a beat. "I'm sorry, Virgil." The manager reached into his pocket. "Would you like to try something?" His tone caused Norbert to look at him. The manager brought out a little jar. He slowly opened it and let a light yellow pill fall on his hand. Putting it between thumb and forefinger, he held it up. "It's called Joy. It's supposed to better your mood." "Candy, Virgil? Really?", Norbert asked, using their term for drugs. "Not that kind of candy, Nick. This is harmless. It's a medicine." "I don't know...me and pills don't go well together." "Do we have a choice?" Virgil looked firmly into his eyes. "And what if it's not working?" Norbert started to shiver. "Don't worry, Nicky. If that doesn't cheer you up, you won't have to perform." "You promise?" "I give you my word." Virgil handed the pill to Norbert, who hesitantly picked it up and eyed it warily. He sniffed at it, but it had no smell. Virgil waited. Norbert didn't believe that any miracle cure could help him out, but there was no return now. Lying the pill on his tongue, he noticed it had a pleasant taste of vanilla. Then he swallowed it.

[caranfindel]

Fic: Flies in the Vaseline

gen, preseries | about 1700 words | PG-13 for language | characters: dean winchester, john winchester, sam winchester | warnings: gratuitous use of second person

Synopsis: The best hunters don't smoke. Inspired by a Tumblr post (waves to @road-rhythm​)

. . . . . . .

The first time your father caught you smoking, you braced for impact, literally and figuratively. You half expected him to smack the cigarette out of your lips. You definitely expected an angry lecture. But he just looked at you, so calm it was almost scary.

"That's not your first one," he finally said. "How often are you doing that?"

Emboldened, you finished the cigarette in one long, last draw, tossing it onto the asphalt and grinding it out with the tip of your boot. "Not a lot. Not every day. Just… sometimes."

"Mmm hmmm." He was still unnaturally calm. "You think that's a good idea?"

You swallowed a laugh at the possibility that smoking might be what got you in the end, rather than a claw or a fang. "I'm not letting it get out of hand," you said.

"Oh, so you think you've got a handle on it." Ah, there it was. That patented John Winchester attitude, disappointment garnished with a dollop of sarcasm. And it pissed you off.

"Yessir, I think I do. I don't think one cigarette to help me relax every once in a while is going to hurt me." Not any more than the constant infusion of Jack Daniels is hurting you, you wanted to point out, but you were not stupid enough to say that out loud.

He stared at you a little bit longer. Maybe thinking you're old enough to make your own decisions, but more likely thinking you dumbass, I don't even know what to do with you. Finally he said "All right, if you think you've got this situation under control, let's see how that works out for you. But don't let Sam see you doing it. You know how the kid looks up to you."

You replayed every word in your mind, looking for the command. It wasn't there. "So you're not telling me to stop?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

That felt like a trap, and you didn't answer.

He didn't mention it again, and didn't see you smoking again, until a couple of months later. You'd successfully cleaned out a pack of ghouls with some friends of his (no, not friends, associates; John Winchester didn't really make friends), and when Ripley pulled out a Marlboro and then waved his pack at you, you took one. Your father watched and scowled and didn't say a word.

But later, when you were in the car for the long drive back to the motel, something clicked. Or snapped. Because you were almost eighteen years old, you'd been hunting monsters since you were barely old enough to jack off, you were younger than all the guys you'd hunted with tonight and still better than most of them, and you'd just killed your first ghoul. And he didn't say good job, Dean or I'm proud of you or anything. He just bitchfaced about your smoking. And you'd had enough. You drank like a man and fucked like a man and hunted like a man and you weren't going to hide cigarettes from your Daddy like a little boy any more.

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the half-empty pack that had been stashed in there for a couple of weeks. And this time you didn't expect it at all, so you jumped when your father slapped the cigarette out of your hand.

"Not in my car," he snapped.

"Jesus, Dad," you said, embarrassed. "Chill out. All you gotta do is ask."

"No, I don't have to ask," he growled. "I'm telling you. Not in my car."

A couple of miles went by before he spoke again. "Dean," he said, "I know you're going to do what you want to do, when I'm not around. I just want to make sure you're making an informed decision. You know what smoking is going to do to you, right?"

"What," you said, "give me lung cancer? Like I'm gonna live long enough to worry about that?"

He sighed. "Yes, I do hope you live long enough to worry about that. But I'm not talking about lung cancer. I'm not talking about long term. I'm talking about right now. The way it affects your lungs. Do you think shortness of breath is an advantage for a hunter?"

"Didn't seem to hurt Ripley."

"Oh, Ripley." His lip curled. "So that's your goal, then? To be as good a hunter as Ripley?"

You wanted to scream that it was so fucking unfair, that you'd done every goddamn thing the man ever wanted. That you were already better than Ripley and most other hunters and the world wasn't going to end if he loosened the reins just the tiniest bit. You wanted to ask him if he was ever going to be satisfied, if you were ever going to be enough.

You didn't. You tucked the half-empty pack back into your pocket and rode silently back to the motel.

. . .

And now it's the next morning. There's no post-hunt day off, no downtime, as usual. Your father barks a reveille at o'dark thirty, and by the time the sun comes up you're shivering on an empty high school football practice field. Sam peers up at you through messy bangs, silently questioning. You shrug.

"Sam?" Dad asks. "How fast can a black dog run?"

Sam looks pleased that today's training includes a mental component, since that's the only way he ever comes out on top. "They've been clocked at twenty miles an hour," he says. "Maybe up to twenty-five. For short bursts, anyway. Not long distance."

"So let's say twenty miles an hour. Convert that to yards per second."

Sam gives him a puzzled look, then closes his eyes and furiously calculates in his head. "Um… ten. Almost ten yards per second."

"Good job." Sam practically glows in the wake of Dad's faint praise. "Okay, Dean, your turn. Couple laps around the field. Fast."

Fine. You sprint down the field, legs and arms pumping, watching Dad and Sam out of the corner of your eye. They're still standing at the edge of the field, talking. Well, Dad's talking. Sam is listening. Your brother reaches out to high-five you as you pass. The little shit's in a good mood after getting to show off his mathlete skills.

You circle the field again, fast, because you're not going to give the old man a reason to bitch at you, to give you the disappointed turned-down mouth and the narrowed you've failed me eyes. At the end of your second lap you pull up, sweaty and out of breath, ignoring the stitch in your side.

Your father gives you an enigmatic smile. "You doing okay, son?"

"Yessir."

"All right. Stay here for a sec." He puts his hand on Sam's back and steers him down the field. "Here's the scenario," he calls, when they stop. "Your brother's 30 yards away from you. His leg is broken, so he can't run. And there's a black dog 40 yards away from him, about to pounce. You're out of ammo, so you have to take it down with a knife. So you've got to get to Sam before the black dog does."

Forty yards. Four seconds. Motherfucker.

He looks at his watch and barks "go!" and for a moment you think you might be able to do it. Maybe if you'd already been in motion, you would have had a chance. But you can't sprint forty yards in four seconds from a standstill. You just can't. Even if you hadn't been out of breath to start with, it would have been difficult. You're still almost ten yards away when your father grabs Sam from behind. Sam shrieks with laughter (it's a happy noise, you tell your panicky lizard brain, a happy noise, goddammit) and his skinny legs go flying as Dad spins him away from you, out of reach.

You pull up and lean over with your hands braced on your knees, acting like you're stretching, because you don't want to look up into your father's smug smile.

"Okay, Sam," he says, "your turn. Two laps. Go."

When your brother is out of hearing range, you straighten up and try to force yourself to breathe normally. When you can speak, it comes out in short bursts.

"You know that's… a bunch of crap… right?"

"What's that, son?" he says mildly, his eyes following Sam down the field.

"The smoking's got nothing to do with… with me being out of breath right now… I hardly smoke at all… it takes me the better part of a month to finish a pack… and that's gonna bring me down like, one percent, tops… and me reducing my lung capacity by one percent isn't gonna affect anything… I couldn't have got to him in time… smoking or not."

"That's true," he says, turning to you. "Sometimes even a hundred percent isn't enough. And most days, it won’t matter. Most days, ninety-nine percent is going to do the job. But one day you're going to need a hundred percent. And you never know when that day's gonna come, Dean. So, is tomorrow gonna be a ninety-nine percent day? Are you ready to bet your life on it? My life?" He turns to look at Sam, loping back up the field toward you. "His life? Something happens to him, it's gonna be bad enough knowing you couldn't have stopped it. How's it gonna feel knowing you could have?"

You don't have an answer for that, but your father's not waiting for one. "Sam!" he yells. "Kick it into gear the rest of the way! You're in a sprint, not a marathon!" Sam ducks his head and runs, slender arms and legs frantically churning as if something dark is snarling at his heels.

. . .

(Tonight, in your nightmares, you'll be unable to breathe, running slow and sluggish like you're pushing through chest-deep water, like you’re drowning in Vaseline. You'll watch helplessly as Sam falls, screaming, taken down by something dark, something snarling, something hungry with fangs and claws. You'll wake with a pained gasp and flush the last of the cigarettes down the toilet. You’ll spend half an hour silently watching your little brother sleep, still hearing him scream your name. And you'll know you're a failure, you let everyone down; you can never, will never be enough. )

(And the next day, you’ll go out and try anyway.)

~ ~ ~ ~

The title is from Vasoline by Stone Temple Pilots, but the actual product is spelled Vaseline and therefore I insist on spelling it that way.