#lets hope its cheaper this time round.....

[ryansjane]

Hi Axelle! Big fan of your channel btw, I watch your video about IPYTM just to get mad sometimes(my resentment towards that show is astronomical).

I've always wanted to move abroad, Seoul being the goal but I want to keep my options open. I know you have several videos about living in Thailand but I'd really love to hear more about your experience. Quality of life, language barrier, weather, expenses, xenophobia, visas, housing, pests, healthcarejob opportunities basically anything! Thank you so so much🙏🏻

Hope you have a fabulous New Year 🎊♥️

hi, thank you so much it means a lot! 🥰 glad to know someone hates ipytm as much as I do lmaooo! ok so let me do it point by point!

quality of life: much higher than living in france. rent is like 4x cheaper for way newer buildings with great amenities such as a pool & a gym, I can order food every day without breaking the bank, and bkk is such a lively city there's always so many cool things to do there for not crazy expensive! I would NEVER be able to afford my lifestyle here in bkk if I was back in paris, and the hot weather also makes it so I don't suffer from seasonal depression which is HUGE!

language barrier: I'm the only foreigner I know who speaks thai, and my foreigner friends have no trouble getting around relying on english. bangkok is one of the most expat-friendly cities ever imo!

weather: the weather is extremely hot in thailand, very humid & also it rains a lot and rainy season is no joke. however I prefer this weather over the french weather bc the sunlight we get everyday no matter the season is 12 hours a day, which is huge when in paris we can go from 14 hours of sunlight in summer, to only 6 in winter. again, really helped with my seasonal depression. also, I can go to my building's pool year round lol! the heat is not for everyone, but personally I feel like I'm on vacation year round & it has done wonders for my mental health!

expenses: as I said, bangkok is much cheaper than paris. however, with thailand's economic boom in recent decades, it's not dirt cheap either like the idea many people had like 10 or 20 years ago. the biggest thing where I really save the most money is rent, but transport is actually more expensive than paris, and imported things are unbelievably expensive. still, I live a very comfortable lifestyle with 800 euros a month, whereas to live the same exact lifestyle in france I'd need like 2000 euros.

xenophobia: there is barely any xenophobia in thailand. in fact, I'd argue that there is a romanticization of foreigners here, especially white ones. however, there are a lot of barriers to being a foreigner in thailand. getting the citizenship seems relatively hard, getting a job as a foreigner is unbelievably hard since the business visa needs to be renewed every 2 months which annoys employers, if you start your business in thailand, you can only own 49% of your own business while a thai person owns the majority, etc. most of the difficulties are legal & related to immigration, but thai people don't discriminate against foreigners. however, they will always tend to see you as a tourist & will try to scam you way more than a thai person, no matter how long you live in thailand... as expressed in videos, as a foreigner, you'll never be seen as a thai citizen, even if you spend your entire life in thailand, and that sucks...

visas: they're hell. as said before, business visas are like the shortest in the world, you can't have that many tourist visas, and the only visas that are easy to obtain are study visas (bc you pay a lot), or retirement visas that last 10 YEARS (bc they pay a lot.) however, thailand seems to slowly be relaxing its visa system, so there's hope.

housing: very easy to find something cheap, I found my 2 apartments in under 2 weeks each time, whereas it'd take me months in paris for a shittier place.

pests: first apartment had lizards, new one has insects...

healthcare: no healthcare as a tourist unless you got an insurance. now that I'm a student at the most prestigious thai uni, I have a lot of free services with the related hospital & health center. I also bought my own insurance so I'm pretty much safe. still is shocking coming from a country with completely free healthcare lol.

job opportunities: finding jobs as a foreigner is AWFUL & idk how I'm gonna find one once I graduate lol, I hope my professors can help me 😅

hope that helped, & I hope you get to do everything you're setting out to do 💜 happy new year ✨️

xxx

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 35: Caemlyn

If you don't like spoilers, don't read this! Not just spoilers for the book (it has 53 chapters and a prologue), but spoilers for the whole series (it has fourteen prologues). Block the tags I'm using that have "spoilers" in them, go read the books, whatever. Just don't read this post.

This new chapter brings us a new chapter icon - the Lion of Andor. It's gonna be with us for all our Andor-related stuff, a term which here has jack shit to do with the Two Rivers because they're not really Andor! It does have to do with Caemlyn though, and the Trakands!

And the wall itself. The sheer, fifty-foot height of pale gray stone, streaked with silver and white, swept out in a great circle, curving to north and south till he wondered how far it must run. All along its length towers rose, round and standing high above the wall’s own height, red-and-white banners whipping in the wind atop each one. From inside the wall other towers peeked out, slender towers even taller than those at the walls, and domes gleaming white and gold in the sun.

This place would have just been a beautiful setting for the Last Battle, just saying. And absolutely tragic too, with the wall meant to keep things out probably being too effective at pinning people in.

“How can they find us among so many? Can’t you see it, you wool-headed idiot? We’re safe, if you ever learn to watch your bloody tongue!”

Rand is absolutely Done with Mat's shit and I'm glad, as now that he's done nursing Rand to health he will be spending as much time as possible being miserable to be around. Just gotta power through it.

Just as if they had no idea that there had been no spring yet this year and might be none. They did not see, Rand realized, could not or would not. Their eyes slid away from leafless branches, and they walked across the dead and dying grass without once looking down. What they did not see, they could ignore; what they did not see was not really there.

One of the benefits of forcing the countryside to grow food for your continued survival is that you can ignore it when the fields are shitty.

“I don’t know what he wants,” Rand said. “We’ve never seen him before.” It might even be the truth; he could not tell one Fade from another.

Rand's got them Aes Sedai lies down and he ain't even among them.

He did not know if Mat remembered what Thom had said about the Red Ajah—and the Black—but he surely did.

You were having a fever dream, Rand, so Mat can't remember it by definition. You know Thom doesn't like the Red Ajahs, he growled at their being mentioned, but he never actually mentioned the term except to say that you couldn't tell the difference between Ajahs because you're a country bumpkin.

I want to go home. Laugh if you want; I don’t care. What I wouldn’t give to have my mother blessing me out for something right now. It’s like weights on my brain; hot weights. Strangers all around, and no way to tell who to trust, if I can trust anybody. Light, the Two Rivers is so far away it might as well be on the other side of the world. We’re alone, and we’ll never get home. We’re going to die, Rand.

The sad thing is, he's right. They don't go home until after they die, if they do at all. I rather hope Mat never goes home, considering what he'd bring with him.

There were women with veils across their faces, women in stiff dresses as wide as the wearer was tall, women in dresses that left more skin bare than any tavernmaid he had seen.

I'm pretty sure that the emphasis on what women is wearing is Jordan being Jordan again, but since Rand is an 18 year old boy surrounded by more people than he's ever seen in his life before, it's not unrealistic. I do wonder what the dudes were wearing all the same.

A good many shops were fronted with tables displaying the cloth and cord, and Rand stopped at one. The red cloth was cheaper than the white, though he could see no difference apart from the color, so he bought that and the white cord to go with it, despite Mat’s complaints about how little money they had left.

Fascinating how the little coincidences add up in ways that don't even feel like plot armor. It's not even ta'veren helping him out exactly because it's not reality warping around him and shifting things in his wake, it's just that circumstances have built over the weeks in such a way that the only course of action he might pursue is the one that gets him where he needs to be.

The innkeeper was fat, he was pleased to see, a pink-faced man in a starched white apron, with graying hair combed back over a bald spot that it did not quite cover. His sharp eye took them in from head to toe, dusty clothes and bundles and worn boots, but he had a ready, pleasant smile, too. Basel Gill was his name.

Master Gill! He's one of those minor players who I really like a lot as we see his life go crazy from the world-shattering events play out around him. I hope he gets a nice new home in the rebuilt Caemlyn when all is said and done, he deserves a happy ending and kinda falls to the wayside in the last book.

Master Gill did not take his eyes off Rand. “Aye, I recognize it. I saw him play it often enough, and there’s not likely two like that outside a royal court.” The pleasant smiles were gone, and his sharp eyes were suddenly as sharp as a knife. “How did you come by it? Thom would part with his arm as soon as that flute.” ... “I’ll believe he’s dead,” the innkeeper said slowly, “when I see his corpse.”

He's smart and reasonably suspicious too. Can I marry him?

Master Gill chuckled dryly. “I know the man, that’s what. He’d jump into that kind of trouble, especially to help a couple of lads about the age of you. . . .” The reminiscence in his eyes flickered out, and he stood up straight with a chary look. “Now . . . ah . . . I’m not making any accusations, mind, but . . . ah . . . I take it neither of you can . . . ah . . . what I’m getting at is . . . ah . . . what exactly is the nature of your trouble with Tar Valon, if you don’t mind my asking?”

"Pinky promise you can't peel off my skin into a skein of yarn with your mind?"

And then Rand lies to him. I mean sure, he's so in denial that he doesn't get that he's lying, but it's the principal of the thing. Thank goodness Rand didn't make a habit of burning down inns.

Mat snorted. “For all I care, the ravens can take every Aes Sedai straight to Shayol Ghul!” “Watch your tongue,” Master Gill snapped.

I'd like to spend more time analyzing Gill's assessment of the current political situation of the city, what with the guards and the Whitecloaks each exacerbating the tense situation and helping build things to a powderkeg while a False Dragon is being paraded for the public to assure them that the status is very quo even though it's clear that it's not and people are going to start starving if something doesn't change in the weather or get slaughtered by another false Dragon if something doesn't change in the rate of saidin-channeling assholes, but I love him too much to do anything except say: <3

He wasn’t always a gleeman, you know, wandering from village to village and sleeping under a hedge as often as not. There was a time Thom Merrilin was Courtbard right here in Caemlyn, and known in every royal court from Tear to Maradon.

If I'm not mistaken, Thom did tell the boys he used to have more prestige than Gleeman. Not sure they had any cause to believe him though.

But Morgase was a young widow, and Thom was in his prime, then, and the Queen can do as she wishes is the way I look at it.

Feminism win: In this world, female monarchs can have sex with the man who killed her husband and the commonfolk just look the other way! About time Jordan made a change like this. Also note that Elayne was between two and four when this went down, so her vague memories aren't just plot contrivance but actually about what you'd expect, psychologically.

The other thing you can expect is that I'm done at the end of a chapter, so I'll see you next time for another Rand chapter. More importantly, it's a Loial chapter! Book's finally getting good, folks.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WITH SERVER-BASED, WHAT THAT WILL MEAN FOR YOU IF YOU TRY TO CONVERT THAT INTEREST INTO MONEY

So you're not sacrificing the lukewarm investors if you focus on the hot ones; convincing the hot investors is the best way to do venture investing. The best intranet is the Internet gives us more choices. It has to be bad, right? Exceptional programmers have an aptitude for and interest in programming that is not merely the product of training. They're not looking for finished, smooth presentations. There's a physical analog in the Intel and Microsoft stickers that come on some laptops. That might be ok if there were other sources of capital for new companies. A society that trims its margins sharply will kill them all. The numbers for me ended up being something like 500 to 800 plans received and read, somewhere between 50 and 100 initial 1 hour meetings held, about 20 companies that I got interested in, about 5 that I got serious about and did a bunch of hackers. Some of the startups we fund are taking this route, and I think this is generally a good idea? If the best startups get 10x higher valuations when they do.

Neither of these fences have any current in them. American culture will reassert itself. It would be great if more Americans were trained as programmers, but no amount of training can flip a ratio as overwhelming as 95 to 5. In How to Start a Startup I advised startups never to let anyone fly under them, meaning never to let any other company offer a cheaper, easier solution. But they were still only about a tenth as productive as a small startup. Exception: If one of the main forces driving the spread of tablets, that suggests a way to recruit startups for series A rounds take so long, but at selecting a reasonably optimal set. So don't spend your precious few minutes talking about crap when you could be talking about solid, interesting things you know a lot about computer security says the single most important step is to log everything. The first cut is simply to be one, sort of. And when people seem to be taking their time. VCs invest in angel rounds can blow up the valuations for angels and super-angels to want low valuations if they're hoping to invest in startups that get bought early.

Web server was the same desktop machine we used for development, connected to the outside world by a dialup line. The value of startup hubs, like centers for any kind of work. Don't be evil. In essense, let the market design the product. Unless AOL fights back, they will be facing not just technical problems but their own wishful thinking. He thought we were meeting for different reasons. Put them on an anonymous forum, and the VCs will try to undermine the super-angels make more investments per partner, they have less partner per investment. In the US most people in what are now called industrialized countries lived by farming. Imagine what all that energy could do if it were actually those two, Jobs would speak for the entire 10 minutes. Our existence depended on doing these things right.

Imagine if that sequence became a big, straight pipe like that, the force of being measured by performance would propagate all the way back to high school, flushing out all the arbitrary stuff people are measured by now. Promising new startups are often discovered by developers. They happen rarely till industrial times there were just speech, writing, and printing, but when investors in an angel round, the size of the market you're in. But if opinion is divided in such discussions, the side that knows it would lose in a vote will tend to be forced to. The Ajax boom didn't start till early 2005, when Google Maps appeared and the term Ajax was coined. In 1994 my friend Koling wanted to talk to more. Most of our competitors were offering desktop software and actually had version numbers. When you install software on your desktop computer, you can only imagine the advantages of being an insider. That's even rarer.

But even at the most advanced acquirers, identifying companies to buy is extremely ad hoc, and completing the acquisition often involves a great deal of unneccessary friction. There is all the more reason for startups to grow. The super-angels, and they could not master it. But if opinion is divided in such discussions, the side that knows it would lose in a vote will tend to be famous on that account should set off alarm bells. I've noticed for a while at least. It delighted the support people to hear that you're right from the hackers. There's another thing all three components of Web 2. It can be hard to understand, like Shakespeare or Chaucer. But vice versa as well. Do you need a set of techniques mostly orthogonal to those used in physically getting up and down mountains. For one thing, it seems a bad plan to treat jobs as rewards. It's the engine that drives them, in the imperfect world we currently inhabit?

If large payoffs aren't allowed, you may need to think more about the message your investors might send if they don't, you're hosed. Revenue Loop was the optimal sort for shopping search, in the same position I'd give the same advice again. There are huge gains to be made from big trends is made indirectly. What would Sama do? But a test that excludes Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, and Michael Dell can't be a good long period of cheerful chaos, just as mountain climbers need to know survival techniques that are mostly orthogonal to those used in physically getting up and down mountains. Many if not most of the talking. So finish raising money and get back to work.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Marc Andreessen, Chad Fowler, Garry Tan, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for sparking my interest in this topic.

[merulast]

Overland to Tokyo Day 3

Hello everyone. After just four hours of sleep I arrived at Budapest yesterday. Even thought the Flixbus did arrive in the end. You still feel like people feel after they arrived in the city.

The next stupid thing was, that the ATM took my "no" as "yes" and transformed 100€ into money that I now had to spend. Without me demanding anything for money. Needless to say that I payd 17€ just as booking fee. Now thats a way to start!

(stockphoto that I totally own)

I took a cap to the area round the Train station. The Keleti Station itself is amazing and got an modern basement layer that connects smoothly to everything around of it. Also the underground. The people are friendly and so far there was no trouble ahead.

In the end I wasted another 18k for lock up my bags. Thats insane expensive but. Too tiered to bargain... Keleti should have an public shower. But that one was out of order. Urgs.

(one of the Budapest Keleti entrace Halls. Fancy!)

So I started to kill alooot of time. The smal coffee shops near the station are an nice place to do so. I also walked around till my injured left food told me, that If I continue, I would not fit into the shoe anymore.

I decided to get rid of the remaining Money by changing it back. In Keleti was an Terminal. But before I could speak to them, an young guy asked me if I would like to buy euro. And well. I did. He had by far the best rate in the entire city and since I grew up with euro I was able to be pretty sure, its real money. And if not - I would had to waste it anyway. So I got 40€ of my euros back. Thank you, unknown money laundry man! Too bad he also had no shower to offer :/

Back on track

(Klumpi in action!)

SO. 4 more Hours till the Train would arrive. I booked my ticket online on the MÀV homepage for bout 35€ with the result that I had not known a Track number. So where to get this number? Well. You can camp in front of the HUGE display and wait till your connection popps up. But I wanted to nap on the right track. Another thing is, that the tracks have ticket-terminals that also allow you to display when trains arrive and depart. And they have an (hidden?) touch feature that allows you to scroll down. It was Track 1. I was even able to see that the train will arrive 2 hours later.

So I went to that track. Yes. It came 2 hours early. But you cannot get into it right now, because they need to change the segments from [locomotive][sitting wagons][sleeping ones] into an order with the locomotive beeing the last one. This took time. So long I tried to find my Wagon by number. Let say, that the sleeping wagons DO have different numbering. You can (or cannot) find it in the windows. It has the size of an Post-it. I decided to take an lower bed in a 4 ppl apartment and seeing how narrow the 6ppl ones are .. Pfew. You did well, past me. You did well!

On board!

I hope you printed the tickets. Sure they have an QR Code and you can see them in the MAV App. But that means nothing. They want, they demand to collect the ticket as a paper. It is generally an good Idea to always print the tickets. Just because an mobile could fail you. Or get stolen.

There are plenty of different Night-Trains from Budapest to Bucharest every day. At least 3. I took this one because I liked the time schedule most, and to my surprise it was a bit cheaper.

NOW I should find out WHY.

This was not the Night Train from Vienna (Wien) to Bucharest. That one with the dining Wagon. The Showers and new Toilets. That one from all the youtube videos.

No this one was an different one. The older ones ;) So no food Wagon. No water dispensers. No new Toilets. No usb. No Wifi. Not even power plugs and not even light. Yes. Not even light. The 40 years old pulp on the ceiling was illuminating nothing but itself.

Ever had to reject border-policemen asking for more light? No? This is a one in a lifetime chance to get away with it - lol.

But there was Air-Conditioning. It was loud like an main road in the rush hour and you could NOT switch it off. Remarkably there was almost now air coming out of it.

BUT whatever. The first thing all of us did was taking an 3h nap. Looks like really everyone that a rough night before. Then I met Alex. An nice Englishman that lived in Budapest. Since the 3th person, from Poland, was not able to communicate with us, we decided that on night we would open the window, and sleep head on to the opened door. Hopefully having enough air.

We did not. Because it started to rain and blow so hard, that you had to close the window. The tracks got significant worse in Romania. May times the whole train got hit SO hard by something on the ground, that you wake up and believe that this will be the end.

And it was so fucking noisy. Ive seen a v-tuber that complained that suddenly THIS train he took (in Kaszachstan) was very loud and he don't knew why. Okay. Now I understand him.

Still love sleeping trains. In ear headphones ftw. Oh an, the mobile network never went down for longer than minutes. Unbeliveable. In germany you are offline after what? 10 Minutes on track? Gotta love this.

Still alive

(Still had no cake)

Anyway. I'm on schedule. I'm alive. An little bit exhausted but still not fed up with being on the tracks. Lets hope ill find a shower soon <.<

Oh and, I spend 50€ yesterday (ticket plus foods) this money also could get you an Lego Stitch 43249.

(cute but stupidly expensive)

[kheerkadam]

♡roshogolla♡

first post!

To start off my blog, I have decided to post a recipe of a dessert that reminds many Bengalis of home: roshogolla. Roshogolla is a very simple and delicious dessert that everyone loves. It is made up of chana, or milk solids, and is rolled into mini balls that are soaked in an aromatic sugar syrup. I love using elachi (cardamom in Bengali) as it is my favorite spice for Bengali desserts.

Roshogolla is made up of two components; rosh means syrup and golla refers to its round shape. This sweet was one of the earliest desserts made in Kolkata, India which is where my parents are from. It may sound difficult, however, roshogolla is a fool-proof recipe that anyone is capable of making :)

I first made roshogolla at home during the pandemic in 2020. At the time, I had a recipe notebook where I would write down my recipes. I have not invented any of these desserts, but I have put my own twist on them in the hope of making them healthier.

Since many Bengali desserts use chana, I wrote the instructions on how to make the chana dough on other pages.

As the recipe states, chana is created by adding an acid such as lemon juice/vinegar to boiling milk to separate the solids from the liquids. This part of making roshogolla is also a science lesson, which was very fun and interesting to see. After the chana is completely strained, it will be separated and chunky. However, if you knead this dough for about 10 minutes, it will come together and turn into a smooth dough. After I kneaded the dough, I rolled it into multiple small balls using the palms of my hands. You can make these into whatever size you want, but I decided to make them smaller to reduce the portion size.

I even ate some of the dough when my mom was preoccupied with something else.

Fun fact: you can actually make homemade cream cheese with this method. If you add the chana to a blender and add some of the whey (the remaining liquid from the milk), you can make a delicious cream cheese to spread on your bagels.

Now that the roshogolla balls are complete, you can begin making your sugar syrup. The ratio of sugar to water (in cups) is 1:3. This syrup is supposed to be thin so the roshogollas can soak up the liquid. I actually added even less than a cup of sugar to make it healthier. After you let the sugar and water simmer, you can add some whole cardamoms and saffron strands to the syrup to bring in some traditional flavors and add a natural yellow color to the dessert. If you don't have cardamom, you can omit it, however, I would definitely recommend it if you can get your hands on it. Saffron is a spice derived from a rare type of flower: Crocus sativus. Saffron has tremendous health benefits such as its suppliance of antioxidants and release of a natural yellow food coloring. However, saffron is also known to be incredibly expensive, so a great substitute for this would be safflower. Safflower also comes from a plant and has a similar ability to color food. Its aroma is slightly mellower than the original saffron, however, it is a much cheaper option that adapts to the budgets people may have.

After a few minutes, you can add in the chana balls.

Let it simmer for five minutes, then turn off the gas, close the lid, and wait for 20 minutes. Make sure your lid has a small hole in it so the steam is not trapped along the edge of the lid.

Finally, you can remove the lid and serve the roshogollas with some syrup hot/cold. Add some crushed pistachios if you wish. Something I find interesting about roshogolla is that it is enjoyable when it is hot because it melts in your mouth and allows you to taste the spice of cardamom. Whereas, when you leave it to chill in the fridge/freezer, the roshogolla becomes ice-cold, which feels refreshing and spongy (in a good way I promise!). The versatility of this dish is incredible and the sweetness can overcome any sadness in an instant.

I had lots of fun making this Bengali dessert and hope to post many more on this blog. Now that you're influenced, please make this mouthwatering dessert and give it a try. :)

[timoswerner]

nah ffs someone from uni suggested doing a little reuinion which i’d be up for, i saw the girls last year but i missed the last big thing everyone did because they chose the most expensive fucking air b&b in bristol (and then i was glad i didnt go because then they were all like omg spent so much money!!!! afterwards) and now one of them’s just been like ‘what about bristol again that air b&b was well nice’ 😶

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

Black Lab (Yandere!Hawks x Reader x Yandere!Dabi) Ch. 5

Find Chapter 1 here!

Find Chapter 4 here!

Summary: You walk straight into the lion’s den, a prey eagerly awaiting its demise.

Note: Sorry this one took so long! I’ve been debating on whether or not to continue this the way I have it, or if I want to rework it entirely, so I’d been putting off this update for a while :( I hope you guys enjoy it, and thank you for your patience! also,,, tumblr gets rid of my italization, so if the tone seems a little off, imagine some italics and it might get better. maybe.

You wish he had taken you somewhere cheaper, or maybe ordered you something a little less delicious, because the decadent meal you just had is currently threatening to make its way back up your throat.

You wish you'd never let him take you there, never let him talk you into whatever this is, and you certainly wished that you had never, ever gotten back into that car. But now your fate stares down at you from its place atop this towering, endless building that houses it. 

You step through the threshold, and your life changes.

Kiego couldn't be more excited, and absolutely gushes about his husband as he halfway drags you through the building and onto the elevator.

"...and he'll love you too, I'm sure- you're just adorable, you know? Everything we've ever wanted in an omega-" he types in a passcode and the elevator starts its slow climb to the top, and subsequently your decline into madness.

You'd seen this building in town before- scarily high and fanciful, like a building out of a sci-fi movie. Sheek black exterior, towering windows and jagged edges with "eco-friendly" grassed terraces near the lower floors. The elevator itself has a window, and you're sure you could see it from this height if you weren't too scared to open your eyes.

The doors open with a ding, and they open... to a living room.

A TV sits on a stand a few feet to your left, and a surprisingly large couch sits in front of a wall of windows, halfway obstructed by curtains. There’s a door on the far left side of the room, and you can see a peek of a dining room around the corner to the right. It’s… nice. Really nice, like a showroom in an Ikea.

"Welcome to our home, doll," Kiego smiles and tries to pull you along, but that's when the smell hits you.

Their apartment reeks of alpha. The smell is disgustingly thick, like campfires and bourbon and when it fills your lungs you swear you could choke on it.

You can't hold back the whimper that escapes your lips, and you fall to your knees despite the strong hand holding your arm.

"Touya, we're home!" He yells, beckoning the predator towards a wounded prey.

 “N-no, I changed my… mind,” you start to stutter out, tears burning at the edge of your eyes, and you swear you’ve cried more this month alone than you have your entire life.

A hand grasps the edge of the wall to your right, strong and muscular, and who you assume to be Touya rounds the corner, half slouched and ready to pounce.

He looks disheveled, that’s for sure, and you don’t doubt for a second that it truly had been hurting him to be unbonded. His eyes are hooded and dark, hair mussed with sweat dripping down his brow. A half unbuttoned dress shirt sits on his shoulders, and his black slacks are wrinkled terribly. You’d feel a bit bad if you weren’t so terrified. 

He bounds towards you, and by the time he’s a foot in front of you, he’s practically on all

fours, leaning over you with fangs unsheathed, and you barely have time to let out one more pathetic whimper before he shoves your head to the side and digs his teeth into your skin.

It’s… different than last time. Waves of panic continue to pulse through you, your breath coming out in shallow huffs that do nothing to fill your chest or clear your head, but the pleasure is there all the same. The heat moves through your neck and downward, and it feels like an eternity before he pulls his teeth away and the fire begins to subside. 

This man was a house fire, taking you unaware, caging you, melting you from the inside out and you had lit the place up. You had come here, despite any rational thought you might’ve had a month ago, and created this fate.

He doesn’t hesitate. Your blood still on his lips, he leans in and captures you in a kiss 

that burns. It’s all encapsulating, stealing the little bit of breath you could manage and suffocating you. You try your best to push him away, but your arms are shaking and weak, so you do the only thing you can think of.

You bite.

He jumps back with a start, landing on his ass and letting out a snarl.

“What the fuck,” he says, wiping at his lip, and you’re not sure if it’s your blood or his that’s dripping from his lip. You hope it’s his.

“Don’t- don’t do that,” you whimper, and god, more fucking tears; it’s exhausting, “I don’t want that.” You have enough sense left to feel embarrassed about how whiny you sound, but you don’t have time to consider it further because Kiego is at your side in a moment, crouching down and pulling you into his chest; while you might not want to admit it, his smell is calming. 

“I told you, Toya- she’s sensitive.” You’d argue with him if you had any strength left for it, but you don’t. You don’t have any strength left for anything anymore, it seems.

You wish you had walked home with Kirishima.

“I was trying to be nice,” the man, Toya, it seems, has recuperated some, and is now crouching next to you as well. You feel… caged. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” It’s not the most sincere apology you’ve ever heard, but you nod either way.

His scent has started to subside now, his pheromones sunk deep into your skin and making your head foggy.

You wish your destiny had been like it is in a storybook- destined to slay the dragon, save the word, pull the sword from the stone. Instead, you lay in the dragon’s clutches, the world crumbling beneath your feet and a sword buried deep into your heart; and that’s exactly where destiny wanted you to be. A bit cruel, if you’re being honest.

“Can you take me home, please?” You clutch at Kiego’s sleeve, trying and failing to stop the hiccuping sobs that rack through your body.

He frowns at that. “You just got here… can’t you stay for a while?” Your eyes shift between the two men, and you feel as if you don’t really have a choice here.

“C’mon, kid- we’ll get you some water n’ letcha calm down.” Once again you feel yourself nod along, and Kiego helps you to your feet with a little smile, just for you. He really does seem nice, you rationalize, but you wish you had a choice. All you ever wanted was a choice.

But like always, you don’t get one, and you’re dragged around the corner and into the kitchen.

It was a really, really nice place. Gray walls covered with black cabinets, a double stove, and an island in the middle of it all. It even had one of those faucets over the oven for boiling water.

“Are you guys rich?” You ask, not bothering to sugarcoat it- if they have that privilege, they can at least own up to it.

“Yes,” Kiego says, while Toya simultaneously lets out a nonchalant,

“Not really,” he looks at his partner, eyebrow upturned, “we’re comfortable.”

“So you’re really rich, then,” you take a seat at the island, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re sure your face is red and your eyes are puffy, but you couldn’t care less about appearances right now.

“This apartment is crazy fancy,” you continue, “and so was that lunch, so there’s obviously some kinda money here.” You don’t know where your sense of shame went- it must have left along with your free will.

“We own the building,” Toya says, “but just the top floor is ours. It pays for itself.” He hands you a glass of water and leans on the island in front of you, eyeing you down.

You find yourself once again wishing that they both weren’t so handsome.

You were in their house.

Kiego had been waiting for this moment for weeks- imagining what it would be like to see the two of you together, to introduce you to the comfortable domestic life that awaited you. It was cathartic, in a sense- seeing you sitting so nonchalantly at the island, sipping water out of a cup his mouth has most likely been on before, in a seat that he’s sat in, in a house that smells of him and his husband, which he hopes will stick to you; maybe it would help deter little freaks like the kid you were with today.

He was angry about it- he won’t lie, when his lovely, perfect omega is rubbing all over some other alpha, smothered in his scent, and then he has the audacity to touch you? It made his blood boil just thinking about that hand on your arm, and where else his hands might have been before… but it doesn’t matter.

You’re here now, and you’re his. Theirs. You have two alphas now who can keep you safe from scum like that.

“Do you like it?” He smiles, arms resting against the cool granite as he stares at you- he never gets tired of looking, even when you look so disheveled; you look so cute when you cry.

“Sure…” you shrug, taking another sip. A very, very small sip. A needless caution, he surmises- they wouldn’t risk messing up your first ever visit. “It’s very gray.”

“We’re not really colorful people,” Toya says. Yeah, Kiego thinks, save for the rare splotches of red or blue scattered around, courtesy of him- if it were up to Toya, everything would be bland, boring gray.

You hum in agreement.

Kiego can’t help but think that you’re really, really beautiful. He wants desperately to wrap an arm around your waist, run his hands through your hair, fit his fingers perfectly between yours.

He just wants you.

He loves his husband, truly and deeply with the same cosmic, destiny driven type of love that he has for you, but it’s still… different, with you. It’s new and fresh, and it feels euphoric. Maybe it’s because you’re an omega- your hormones mix better or something of the sort, but Kiego is inclined to believe that this is true love, your strings of fate tied together by Aphrodite herself. 

You’re his destiny, and he couldn’t be happier.

Toya thinks you’re interesting, to say the least.

Kiego and him had never thought that they needed an Omega, despite how Toya’s family had searched for one for them for ages. Toya had never been directly opposed to the idea, per se- Alpha pairs usually found an Omega to suit their needs, but he was never the type to want to please his parents. Quite the opposite, actually. He was content to stay the shame of the family, the black sheep in a field of porcelain wool as he insisted that they had another mate out there somewhere.

Your existence was merely a convenient coincidence, and yet he was still drawn to you in a way he couldn’t seem to comprehend.

Your scent, your voice, your touch all sent shivers down his spine and fire through his veins, even though he had yet to experience a kind version of any. Everything about you screamed ‘stay away,’ like a little tree frog covered in bright colors; a warning for those who threaten to eat you alive.

And oh, did he ever want to. He wanted to engulf you in himself, make you forget you were ever anything but his mate, his partner, his possession.

But you were sensitive, as Kiego had told him- rather repeatedly, if he might add. You were meek and afraid, a field mouse in the claws of an owl, so he figured he should keep his grip loose for now.

He watches you as you look around the apartment in awe, trying your hardest not to seem too impressed.

It was sad how easy you were to read, really- in your desperation to separate yourself from them, you had made yourself vulnerable. You were a closed book, but he had every intention of prying you open.

The two of them stared at you over the granite island, a sense of dread sinking deep into your heart.

Taglist: @mirayasimpinghard @kunaigirlx44 @dabis0bitch @ladywolf44005 @imunderurbed @jamerlynn @underratedmage @maggiecc  @chaichaiiskai @coffeeginie

[zeldadiarist]

Music (Friday Night Plans)

The @zelinkcommunity began weekly prompts to let our imaginations run wild! The theme this week is music, which allowed me to revisit this idea of a TP Zelink college AU. I hope you like it, either here or crossposted on Ao3!

Read under the cut!

Noise of chatter and clinking glasses was the typical Friday night soundtrack at the small, as old as time pub near the Arts and Humanities faculty of Hyrule University.

Legend said the pub had been built at the same time as the huge faculty building, one hundred and fifty years ago, to brighten up the lives and lift the spirits of the students, but actually it was just a good place with familiar faces, good cheap fries, and even cheaper, better booze - the owner, Telma, who was the namesake of the pub, followed the recipe of her family's custom brew.

A young man in an old, worn dark brown perfecto jacket, olive green hoodie and jeans swam among the dwellers. The amount of guests was bigger than usual, for a very specific reason: every week, Telma’s Pub hosted live music shows, and this particularly had a larger concurrence, for it was a kararocker party. It consisted of regular karaoke, but instead of having bad synthesized tracks, it had a live band, and a sort of setlist, composed by the people who had signed up.

After some minutes of surfing, he ended up next to who he was looking for.

"Hey, Midna!" he called out a towering redhead twili woman clad in a long, flowy, loose black jacket with fringe, crop top and long skirt, Doc Marten’s style boots on her feet, which contrasted with her hippie-ish, borderline Stevie Nicks inspired clothing.

"Link! You made it in time, buddy!" the redhead high-fived him, "Great! My friend is about to go onstage!"

"Your roommate?" he asked, taking off his hood. "The History Major junior?"

"Yes," she nodded, her earrings making a chiming sound, "she loves these things because she says it’s sort of cathartic."

"It surely is," he laughed, seeing the extravagant performance of the singer on stage, a lanky guy dancing like there was no tomorrow to an energetic guitar riff, reciting “must be the moon, must be the moon…” as if it were a mantra.

"She sings beautifully too, so it’s a plus I guess," Midna shrugged, looking at the singer bowing to the crowd.

Link had heard only praise about her from Midna: how ladylike she was, her intelligence, and her shy but laid back and nice personality once you get to know her. Ironically, despite him knowing Midna for almost a semester now, he had never been introduced to her, and the couple of times she had invited him to their apartment, the roommate was never around.

The MC stepped on the small stage. "Next, is one of our regulars, Miss Zelda!" the crowd clapped, "singing Mitski’s Nobody!"

The crowd clapped some more, as a tall woman, slender but with rounded hips, stepped onstage, dressed in a cream knit sweater paired with a black leather mini skirt, black tights and booties; her long golden brown hair in a low ponytail, her makeup barely there, just some rosy color on her lips and mascara that framed her beautiful, almond shaped icy blue eyes.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. She looked more like a model than a regular university student, in Link’s eyes. And something about her resulted strangely familiar to him.

She waved timidly, saying "it’s good to see friendly faces tonight, hi Midna!" as she greeted the twili, who raised a fist in the air, while Zelda took the microphone.

"That’s Zelda!" Midna clapped, looking at her companion.

"I see." Link just looked to the stage, wide eyed, more than impressed by the looks of the young woman.

Midna just giggled mischievously seeing his captivated look.

"My God, I'm so lonely, so I open the window, to hear sounds of people, to hear sounds of people…" she began singing, her voice crystal clear, as she took the elastic band off her hair, the piano and drum playing softly. "Venus, planet of love, was destroyed by global warming. Did its people want too much too? Did its people want too much?"

"And I don't want your pity," the guitar joined her voice, an upbeat riff looping, the rhythm going up, "I just want somebody near me, guess I'm a coward, I just want to feel alright," her sweet voice pleaded. "And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss, give me one good honest kiss and I'll be alright…"

Link wondered if she sang with so much heart out of personal experience, or if she was actually an excellent performer.

"Nobody, nobody, nobody, Nobody, nobody," the beat picked up, and she began dancing on her spot, "Ooh, nobody, nobody, nobody…"

The beat caught up again, she began swaying her hips to the music more energetically.

"I've been big and small" -she gestured with her hands- "And big and small, and big and small again, and still nobody wants me" -everyone clapped twice with her- "Still nobody wants me…"

I’d want ya, if you don’t mind, Link said to himself, kind of surprised by the statement of his inner self.

"And I know no one will save me, I'm just asking for a kiss" -she lowered to the crowd making eye contact with some of the public- "Give me one good movie kiss, and I'll be alright…" her eyes casually met with his.

Those lyrics, sung with such feeling, such yearning, made Link’s heart skip a beat. I’d kiss you, not only once. Several times, actually, if you want, of course.

"Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody, Ooh, nobody," she began dancing, swaying to the music, shaking her head, hair now messy, owning the little stage, until the beat became slower, singing to the top of her lungs a thousand "nobody, nobody, nobody, no…" until the very last note, after which everybody at the pub applauded furiously.

"Zel, you rock!" Midna hollered, almost leaving her companion deaf.

She made a tiny pause. "Thanks everyone," she said and smiled, turning to thank the Zora band members, her cheeks blushed, tucking her hair behind her pointy ear as she put the mic on the stand with her free one, then leaving it by the right side.

Midna gestured for Link to follow her, both surfing and shuffling to get out of the crowd, meeting the singer at the back, who rested with her back against the wall, looking for something on her bag.

"What a stunner was that!" Midna shrieked, hugging her.

"I needed it," Zelda sighed, leaning on her friend. "It's been a rough week."

"I know, baby," she patted her head. "I came with the friend I wanted to introduce to you," Midna changed the subject. "This is Link."

She waved at him shyly, a smile warm, soft, and friendly. "I am Zelda Harkinian-Nohansen, Midna has talked a lot about you," she extended her hand.

Her name ringed in his ear as if he had heard it before, but set the thought aside. Not every Friday night you get introduced to someone who looks as if the model of a Boldini or Singer Sargent painting had turned into flesh and bone… and appeared in a mini skirt.

"She has told me about ya too," he grinned, giving her a handshake. Her hands were delicate and thin against his broad, rough, square hands.

"I hope it's nothing bad," she let out a tiny chuckle.

"Only praise, Miss," he grinned. "I didn't know you sang so well!"

"I was a member of the choir in high school," she explained, even more blushed.

"She was so cute with her uniform and her braided hair!" Midna pinched Zelda's cheeks, like a proud, overbearing mother. "Let's have a pint with chips and have a chat."

Zelda and Link grabbed a table while Midna went to the bar.

"What is your field of study?" Zelda enquired with curiosity. "You aren't from the Engineering and Informatics Faculty, as far as I know. You don’t look like a Computer Science major, no offense."

"I'm studying Art, and a minor in Art History," he told her, staring with a piqued curiosity. "Can I ask ya somethin? I hope I don't sound like a creep."

"You aren't a creep," she shook her head, "I can feel it."

He made himself a mental note to not prove her otherwise before talking again.

"Your face is familiar to me," he confessed.

She gave him a tiny smile. "So is yours! Maybe because of this…" and looked for something in her bag, began tying up her hair in a bun, and put on a pair of tortoiseshell cateye glasses. He recognized now clearly who she was.

"I’m professor Rauru's assistant," she laughed, returning the frames to the bag, "you've probably seen me with my reading glasses in class."

"You dress differently too," he said, "more… “professional”, I’d say?"

"Yes," she nodded, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "But I'm not stuck up, I hope I didn't give the wrong impression."

"Hardly, ma'am!"

As Midna was about to return to the table with three pitchers and a large basket of fries under her arm, she saw her friends chatting, subtle glee drawn on their faces.

A mischievous smirk appeared in her purple painted lips.

"Just as I expected!" she said knowingly, and decided to wait just a little longer.

[4dtk]

anon: “hi i was the one who requested the jisung fluff the other day and i wanna say tHAT ITS SO CUTE AND THANK YOU SO MUCH🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ could i request another jisung drabble with 11 under hugs, 26+29 in kiss, and 18+50 in touch !!” i’m happy you liked it enough to request another one anon! thank you <3 this one is a bit more dialogue and less descriptive, hope you enjoy!

jisung and y/n being dorks basically. they're playing games again hope you don't mind lolol

hugs, 11: clinging to each other

kisses, 26 & 29: giggling while kissing, hushed conversation in-between kisses

touching: 18 & 50: squishing the other’s cheek, putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

“who the hell used my card to buy video games?” haechan shouts. you can’t tell if he’s more mad or annoyed, but that doesn’t stop the both of you from freezing up.

“jisungie! was it you?” the voice, usually heard in gentle slow ballads and contrasted against the heavy beats of upbeat songs now reverberated throughout the dorms.

there’s no time for the two of you to react when he bursts into the room. jisung’s switch in his hands, you clutching onto his arm, hair messy. even donghyuck couldn’t hold back on a small giggle when the two of you looked like deers caught in the headlights.

“uhm-!” you started a little too loudly, before clearing your throat, “actually- jisung wasn’t the one who used it. you might want to find-“ the mario kart soundtrack, the monotonous fan blowing from across you, a burp that you barely concealed. the whole situation was hilarious, although you couldn’t find it in you to even crack an awkward smile.

there’s panic in jisung’s eyes when he hears the familiar hyung’s name hanging off the tip of your tongue. the gasp from your boyfriend wasn’t missed, nor was the quick hand going over your mouth to shut you up any better.

“you two are shit at lying,” haechan raises a brow, but sighs, “but you wouldn’t know my card details anyway.”

phew. you both collectively relax when the door finally shuts, sinking back into the bed with the lost game of mario kart as jisung’s character stands on last place.

the room stands still for a second before the two of you break into laughter, struggling to explain the small things that made you crack up so bad. you’re barely breathing, holding onto the sheets with an iron grip with chest heaving.

“hyung is going to kill me,” he whispers, the screen naturally going back to the home page after a minute. he puffs his cheeks with a furrow in his brows, pulling you closer now that the game’s done, “ah, well.”

your surprise ends fast, but the other’s is amplified with “hm?”’s and wide eyes when you squish his cheeks between your fingers, laughing at the way his lips form into a duck face.

“oh my god, you look like cheep-cheep!” he swats your hand away with faux anger even when you’re taking the switch into your hands before starting a game on cheep-cheep island, frantically pointing to the obstacles of fish back and forth that you’re not even focused on winning.

jisung can only watch you with a gentle smile on his face, taking the console from you as he places his lips on yours. the kiss is slow, soft, tender, and you can tell he’s hesitant to deepen it. he finally does it when he feels you pull him in where you’re hip to hip, torso to torso.

“wait wait- why would haechan kill you?” you giggle, pulling away as the arms around his neck come round to cup his cheeks.

the other laughs nervously, “not haechan hyung, jeno hyung-“

you kiss him again, red dusts his cheeks, your smile widens.

“but didn’t jeno say it was okay to use hyuck’s details- oh. ohhhhh…” realisation hits you. “you’re sneaky bitch!”

jisung only snorts at the name-calling, “hyung said it was okay that i use it but… i didn’t. he hoped he could rope me in and we’d have to pay the bill together since he knows my games are cheaper but,” he shrugs.

“and to think you were so excited about the game too… why didn’t you just buy it? they would’ve let you off anyway.”

“eeh, i have my personal bank account here,” jisung messes up your hair, planting a peck on your lips.

your sound of protest is lost to his lips when he kisses you again and you can feel his skin heat up under your hands that it makes you giggle. jisung pulls away.

“i guess it feels good to just buy things on your own accord.”

“that wasn’t the case yesterday when you fished cash out of my wallet to buy jjajjangmyeon…”

he pouts, and you resist the urge to squeeze his cheeks again, although your moment of teasing gets interrupted by haechan screaming out lee jeno’s name.

the both of you share a giggle, only burying deeper into the covers with legs tangled over the other and bodies as close as they can be to imitate a deep slumber. it’s comfortable, and you wish you could stay hidden with your boyfriend as long as you can, but you can already hear the calculated steps of two hyungs.

“game face on,” you stifle a laugh at that, thankful your slip-ups were muffled by jisung’s shirt that you can hear his body shake with chuckles, too. you’re prepared for the fake sleepy eyes and exaggerated yawns, and you have to slap jisung’s chest to get him to stop laughing when someone knocks on the door.

“if we die today at the hands of your brothers, i love you.”

“shut up, (y/n),” a soft laugh full of amusement, “but i love you too.”

[forlove2020]

Day 2 - No Vacancy

It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 

Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.

And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.

Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.

The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 

(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)

Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself

Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.

What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.

Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.

But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 

So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”

Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”

It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.

They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 

“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 

“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.

Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.

Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 

 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”

The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.

Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”

The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”

As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 

The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.

“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 

Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”

He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.

****************************************

“A hundred.”

“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”

The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”

“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.

“Eighty.”

“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.

“Sevent…”

“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.

As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.

Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.

One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 

He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.

Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 

“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”

“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”

Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.

“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.

Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.

Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”

They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 

Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”

Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.

**********************************

I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!

My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).

Thank you for reading!

-V

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Ice Day!!

For @brutal-nemesis! 

[I can’t remember if this one came to me in a dream or if i was just in bed lol] 

CW: magical exhaustion, forced to work, implied human trafficking, slavery, restraints, IV (but no drugging),  

Whumpee focused harder on standing. They had this gut feeling – and it was going to be right this time. They just knew it. The Operators were going to bring in a replacement for them. Whumpee hands were trembling, weak from hours of using their powers to cool the engine in front of them. The design had won awards for its ingenious use of a cooling system, the cost of ice-powered whumpees cheaper and more environmentally friendly.

They shifted their weight and held firm. They were going to get a replacement this time. Didn’t matter that it had never happened before, didn’t matter that they had never been brought in as a replacement for another Whumpee. No, this was the time. This was going to be the first time that they were released from their duty before they collapsed.

They just knew it.

 Hours later, after Whumpee’s knees had buckled leaving them a mess on the steel floor, the door creaked open. They raised their head blearily and hopefully. One figure. An Overseer. No replacement.

Whumpee drew in a shaky breath and leaned their forehead against the equipment. The Overseer tsked at them grabbed their shoulder to pull them back up to their feet. Their legs were burning and swollen, arms numb. The Overseer grabbed Whumpee’s hands and forced them flat against the warm metal of the engine.

“Please, please –“ Whumpee started, heat already seeping into their hands. The Overseer didn’t respond. They clipped Whumpee’s wrists in, making it impossible to pull them away. The Overseers never reacted when the Whumpees cried. Maybe they couldn’t understand them.

Maybe they just didn’t care.

Whumpee’s head was tilted to the side and they let the IV be inserted without resistance. Not a drug, simply saline for hydration. Kept them working a bit longer. They bit their lip, tears dripping out of their eyes. They should have known, they shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up, but they were just so sure this was the time.

  Nearly ten hours later, Medic made his rounds. He pushed the door open, getting no response from inside.

Whumpee had collapsed again, hands bent at a terrible angle to accommodate the restraints. Medic sighed and went to check them. Barbarians. This whole plant was barbaric; even if it was considered efficient.

Whumpee was drenched in sweat – already a red flag for their power type. They were still conscious, albeit confused and out of it. They pressed their face into Medic’s hand as he tried to feel their forehead. They were burning up with fever, and if they were trying to cool their skin on his it was worse than he thought.

“Alright, alright, you’re done here,” he muttered to himself, unclipping their hands. The skin on their palms was burned and red and stuck slightly to the hot metal. They whimpered slightly when he pulled their hands away, but didn’t fight him. They couldn’t possibly have with how weak they’d become.

Medic brushed damp hair from their eyes and easily lifted them onto the stretcher. He’d sign them out and take them back to the bay so that one of the others could grab another to fill their spot. The only word he could think to describe the process was barbaric. Sickening. Inhumane – or it would be if they were still considered ‘human.’

He had to pause to put on his jacket as they got farther down the hall. At least the assholes in charge of this place let them keep the Whumpee bay at least 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the plant. Even that was a tremendous help in recovery.

He laid the frail Whumpee out on one of the cots and applied cool clothes to their forehead, chest, and arms.  Whumpee whined a shuttered out a breath, but they didn’t open their eyes. Medic sighed again and kept trying to cool them down. Part of him wanted to quit so badly, but he couldn’t leave them. No-one else would care for them, and he couldn’t live with that guilt.

Whumpee was cooling down, slightly, and becoming semiconscious. They whimpered and writhed in the bed.

“Hey, hey hey hey, you’re okay,” Medic said, dabbing a cool cloth on their brow. Whumpee’s eyes slowly focused on him.

“Ice?” They asked, voice broken and scratchy. He shook his head.

“No. No more ice,” he said soothing before adding another comment under his breath – “at least for a while.”

Whumpee shook their head weakly, brow furrowed.

“I-Ice?” they repeated. He paused, trying to figure out what they meant.

When he did, it broke his heart. Ice baths were permitted sometimes, for serious cases. As bad as his patient was, it wasn’t enough for that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Cheap, spiteful, hateful, stupid bastards. What, they couldn’t afford ice? There must have been some other, unknown reason for the needless cruelty.

“One sec, okay?” He said before he stood to grab a couple of the reusable ice packs. It was the most he could offer without needing permission. He slipped one under the back of the neck, a few more along their sides.

Whumpee sighed contentedly and closed their eyes again to rest. Medic would stay with them as long as he could – until their temperature came down to a safe level, but he had more rounds to do.

There were others that needed help, too.

~

tagging @thehopelessopus for reasons lol 

[jaskierswolf]

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 3/6  (1, 2 - 4)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

CW specific for this chapter: voyeurism, exhibitionism, Dandelion/female OC, sex work. (Can you guess what happens?)

Summary: There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.

The arrangement, as Dandelion had begun to think of it, was working well. With his ballads gaining popularity over the continent, his coin purse was beginning to fill out. Not that it stopped them from sharing rooms at inns, but occasionally he or Geralt would actually manage to visit a brothel to sate their needs. Masturbation was wonderful but even that was a short term solution. Occasionally one just needed to good tumble in the sheets, and Dandelion always made sure he paid for the night. He enjoyed the afterglow of sex just as much as the act itself, and even though he was paying them, he enjoyed waking up in his lover’s arms, but mostly the pair of them got each other off in the mornings or just before bed, whenever the need arose, and if they had the coin they’d visit a brothel. It worked for them.

The life of a witcher and that of a travelling bard did share one thing in common.

It wasn’t easy to settle down.

And honestly, neither of them wanted to. Geralt kept bemoaning that witcher’s were not meant for love and family, whereas Dandelion’s wanderlust seemed to bleed through into matters of the heart. How anyone could be happy with just one lover, he would never understand. There were so many beautiful people out there just waiting to be adored, it would be a bloody shame to deny them the opportunity.

Dandelion tried not to think about how he always returned to Geralt, be it in the mornings or evenings. He tried not to think of how, despite his wishes for freedom, he had essentially tethered himself to the witcher.

He tried not to think of how easy it would be to fall in love with him.

It was easier not to think about it.

“Geralt?” he called to the witcher.

Geralt looked across from where he was riding Roach. Dandelion’s own gelding was shorter than the mare, a chestnut horse that had nothing on Roach but it was better than walking everywhere. Geralt had been good at not riding too fast, but Dandelion’s feet were constantly sore and blistered by the end of the day. At least this way he could switch between riding and walking.

Gods, by the end of the year his thighs would be like tree trunks. He’d never exercised so much in his life before. The life of a viscount in training had been cushy, and his life as a student hadn’t been much harder. It was all desks and fancy chairs, the occasional lecture room with firm wooden benches.

In fact, the most exercise he’d had before had probably been in the bedroom.

Oh, how things had changed.

“We should visit a brothel in the next town, my friend,” Dandelion suggested.

To his surprise, Geralt shook his head. Dandelion pouted, ready to launch into a sonnet about the carnal delights that could be found waiting for them in the bed of a whore… or even two, but Geralt cut him off. “I need to stock up on potion ingredients, and the last contract didn’t pay well thanks to a certain bard.”

Dandelion flushed, averting his gaze. It hadn’t been his fault. He didn’t know that the gorgeous lady he’d been flirting with had been the Alderman’s wife. Was he supposed to be psychic? Not everyone had Geralt’s keen witcher’s senses, he hadn’t exactly been able to smell the mingling of their scents, as Geralt had described it. Dandelion was half convinced the witcher was making that up. There was no way he’d been able to smell that.

Although….

Geralt had mentioned he could smell when someone had orgasmed.

“I’ll have you know, that I am not to blame, dear witcher! If she was happily taken then she should have refused my advances. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that she was married? She kept looking at me with those eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, and cheeks like roses. She was practically begging me to take her to bed.”

Geralt snorted. “You can go to a brothel, I won’t stop you, my friend, but I don’t have the coin. I’ll stay in the woods outside of town and you can meet me at dawn. Don’t be late.”

Dandelion rolled his eyes and sniffed haughtily as he adjusted his hat with one hand. “Nonsense! We’ll just have to share.”

“Share?”

“A whore, obviously Geralt, do try to keep up.”

Geralt pulled Roach to a halt and Dandelion had to circle round as he trotted ahead. He peered at the witcher, quirking his eyebrow. “What?”

“You want to share a whore?”

Dandelion sighed dramatically, holding the reins in one hand as he flicked out a wrist in a flourish. “It’s cheaper and that way neither of us will need to camp out. It’s a practical and pleasurable solution. Come on, Geralt, when was the last time you had the soft flesh of a woman’s thighs around your waist, the feel of her breasts in your hands.”

“Shut up, Dandelion,” Geralt growled and spurred Roach onwards.

Dandelion chimed a laugh, and followed after his witcher. “So is that a yes? Geralt! Geralt come back!”

____________

It was a yes, even though Geralt never said the word. He never enjoyed the way Dandelion waxed poetry about women, as if they were a rose to be viewed purely for their beauty. He never admired the male figure in quite the same way. Whilst the poet wasn’t ashamed of his love of men, he only openly spoke of women as his lovers, occasionally omitting the gender altogether if he deemed it necessary.

Geralt had never really understood the need to hide. He didn’t exactly advertise his attraction to men, it was easier, not to mention cheaper, to hire a female whore after all, but he didn’t make the same effort that Dandelion did to hide it. Although, the bard in all his flamboyant gestures and colourful silk clothes did portray the more stereotypical dandy type.

And arseholes were less likely to actually try and attack a witcher, unless they were drunk or downright idiotic. Some thought that besting a witcher would impress whatever girl they had their eyes on, but Geralt was fairly good at discreetly using Axii to convince them that it wasn’t worth the fight.

Although, he had to admit, he did enjoy a good brawl, and the fighting rings were a good source of extra income when they were running low.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. Perhaps he should have sought out the local fighting ring instead of going along with Dandelion’s ridiculous plan of sharing a whore, but there was no denying that he could use a good fuck. He was half-tempted to push the poet up against the nearest tree and fuck the living daylights out of him, but they didn’t do that. Quick hand jobs in the forest were a far cry from getting fucked against a tree.

But Dandelion was growing ever more tempting with every day that passed. Geralt knew the way the poet’s breathing hitched in his throat just before he came. He knew the way he would bite his lips in a fruitless effort to keep quiet, the obscene sounds of his moans that rang out in the night. Geralt knew how those cornflower blue eyes looked when he was hungry with lust, the scent of his arousal permeating the air until it was all that Geralt could smell. He knew how the bard’s cock felt in his hands, as Dandelion cried out, Geralt’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

But he didn’t know how his lips tasted. He didn’t know whether Dandelion’s swan-like neck was as sensitive as he imagined. He could only guess at how beautiful it would look with an array of bruises and bite-marks left behind by Geralt’s mouth. He didn’t know how Dandelion’s cock would feel in his mouth, a taste of his cum.

And he wanted to know.

Fuck, he wanted to know everything.

If he hadn’t been taught from such a young age that witchers didn’t feel, he might have begun to think that he was falling in love with the poet.

But that was off the cards. It was just sex, hell, it wasn’t even that. They were friends, companions on the road.

And it was cheaper to share a whore.

“Greetings!” Dandelion trilled, giving the madame his most charming smile. The poet winked as he slid some coin across the bar. “We’d like to share, if that’s acceptable?”

The madame glanced between Geralt and his poet, looking decidedly unimpressed. He supposed they made a strange sight. The two of them couldn’t be more different in looks. Geralt with his dull black armour, two swords, and harsh demeanour, versus the colourful bard with hair the colour of golden corn, shiny burgundy silk clothes, and a lute strapped to his back.

They were the moon and the sun.

But, as the saying went, opposites attract.

And fuck, Geralt was attracted to the bard, too attracted. Dandelion would only get hurt by his side but Geralt was too weak to let him go, not whilst he wanted to stay, and Geralt hoped he would stay for a long time yet. The path had been so cold before Dandelion. He steadfastly ignored Vesemir’s warnings about getting attached to humans. A witcher’s lifespan far exceeded that of a human, if they survived the monsters of course.

It was better to settle for whores and one night stands. Geralt had never had a problem before, but being the Butcher of Blaviken was enough to put most humans off. No one had even attempted to befriend him since Renfri.

His friends were dwarves, druids and sorceresses. Although, that last one was still to be determined. The graduates of Aretuza were as prickly as they were powerful, manipulating the world and its people more skilfully than any politician, spy or monarch.

“You want to share with the witcher?” the madame asked, doubt ringing clear in her voice.

“I want to share with my friend, but we’d be happy to take our business elsewhere. A town like this must have more than one brothel,” Dandelion snapped, putting both hands on his hips, his charming air vanishing in an instant.

“No need, I have just the girl for you.”

Dandelion’s shiny smile was back, brighter than before, blinding Geralt and making his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Excellent!” the poet cheered with a clap of his hands, “Show us the way!”

Dandelion’s hair shone in the candlelight, bouncing as he quickly turned around to wink at Geralt. There was a sparkle in his eyes that seemed to light up the entire room. The poet’s tongue flicked out between his lips, and, not for the first time, Geralt wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“Isn’t this a lovely establishment, my dear friend?” Dandelion wittered on, and Geralt ignored the weird stab of pain in his heart at the word friend. They were friends, just friends.

Friends.

Maybe if he repeated it enough then he would begin to believe it.

“It’s a brothel,” he said, his voice sounding dull compared to the warm tenor of his friend.

“Yes, yes, and it’s a rather lovely brothel. If you ignore the smell of sweat. Oh, but that must be even worse for you!” Dandelion exclaimed, looking horrified. Geralt shrugged. It did stink, but he was used to focussing on the nicer smells in places like this. They tended to burn incense, and here was no exception. The floral scent of freesia masked the worst of the sweat and sex, but Geralt focused on the pretty poet next to him. Dandelion still preferred the scented lavender oil in his hair. Before Dandelion, for Geralt’s life now existed as before and after Dandelion, lavender had not been a scent that he enjoyed. It was too strong, and reminded him of the sleeping drafts they used at Kaer Morhen before the mutagens…

But now it was the scent of Dandelion.

Mixed with chamomile and the poet’s natural musk, Geralt had grown rather fond of lavender.

Instead of saying all of this, he just muttered “I manage.”

Dandelion just wrinkled his nose, seemingly disgusted with the whole idea. Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile. It warmed his heart to know how much his friend cared about him, about the whole world in which they lived. Dandelion loved the world and in turn the world loved him back.

It was how it should be.

They were led through to one of the rooms on the second floor. It was cramped but nicely decorated. A pretty young blonde was lying on the bed, her fingers in the middle of braiding her long hair. She glanced up when she saw them, dark blue eyes looking up through thick black lashes.

And all Geralt could think of was that the colour was wrong.

Too dark.

The colour of a stormy ocean instead of the cornflower blue he’d grown used to.

There were freckles dusting her cheeks, and scattering down her neck below the bodice of her dress. She was slender, like Dandelion, but she lacked the muscles his poet had gained over the year…

Geralt cursed.

Winter was fast approaching and he’d been heading north soon, towards Kaer Morhen… towards home. He wondered where the poet would go for winter, perhaps to Oxenfurt. He always spoke of the city fondly.

“Geralt?” a strong hand on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, the girl was still on the bed, looking more than displeased. He mumbled an apology for his rudeness.

“Can’t say that’s the best welcome I’ve had,” she muttered “I can get another girl if you’d prefer.”

“Nonsense!” Dandelion exclaimed. “He’s just tired, isn’t that right, my dear?”

Geralt nodded.

“See, nothing to worry about!” the poet trilled. “Now, how do you want us?”

“You shared before?”

They both shook their heads.

“I thought so, you can always tell,” she said, swiftly untangling the braid in her hair until it fell loosely down her back. “Are you taking turns or sharing?”

Geralt looked at Dandelion, it had been the poet’s idea and so the decision fell to him. Dandelion hummed, his tongue sticking between his lips as he considered, then he turned back to look at Geralt, tilting his head, one hand on his hip. “What do you think, darling? Would you be happy to watch?”

Geralt swallowed, the thought of watching his bard fuck another person should have bothered him… but instead he found himself growing hard in his trousers. He could already imagine the sinful things that Dandelion would say, the dirty poems and rhymes he would wax as he bedded the beautiful whore in front of them.

The bard was rumoured to be an unparalleled lover, and Geralt wanted to know, wanted to see why.

He nodded, barely looking at the girl, unable to tear his gaze from his friend as the pair of them stripped out of their clothes. Travelling together meant that Geralt had seen Dandelion naked many a time, but never like this. When they touched each other, they never took off more than necessary.

Marie, as the girl told them, pulled Dandelion to the bed, running her hands down his chest as she straddled his hips. Dandelion gazed up at her like she was a gift from the gods. He looked at her like he’d seen the sun for the first time. It made Geralt feel sick. He knew what it felt like to be caught under the poet’s gaze, how it felt to bask under the warmth of his affection.

Geralt should have realised that it wasn’t meant for just him.

“Oh, you are just stunning, darling, radiant as spring,” Dandelion cooed, fingers trailing down Marie’s spine. Geralt saw her shiver. He knew that whore’s often pretended to enjoy the company of their clients but Geralt could smell her genuine arousal mixing with the bard’s. Dandelion’s long fingers danced across her skin as she rolled her hips forward, making the poet sigh happily. Geralt could hear the spike in Dandelion’s pulse, as his breath hitched in his throat. Marie gasped as Dandelion cupped her breast.

Geralt was growing achingly hard in his trousers. He knew his turn was next.. but… he was also a witcher. His stamina was… a lot and if he wanted to cum without exhausting Marie then he really should start.

“Do you want me to ride you, poet?” Marie purred, her hands splayed on Dandelion’s chest.

Geralt hoped his bard would say yes. The way he was lying back on the bed with his hair fanned out behind him was enticing. Geralt could easily imagine Dandelion pinned underneath him as he fucked the bard.

Or maybe even fucked himself on Dandelion’s cock.

He hadn’t bottomed very often, most men assumed the witcher would top and Geralt didn’t really care enough to correct them, but suddenly the idea of Dandelion fucking him became the only thing he could think about. The poet’s long, clever fingers opening him up, brushing against his prostate. He growled, palming himself through his trousers. The sound drew Dandelion’s attention, and the poet fucking winked at him.

“What would you prefer, darling?” Dandelion asked, his voice hoarse, losing its usual smooth musical timbre.

Geralt felt too hot under Dandelion’s burning gaze. It was everything he wanted and yet not enough. “Ride him,” he choked out.

Marie laughed, and then reached between her thighs to coat her fingers before stroking the poet’s cock. Dandelion’s wanton moan echoed in the room, the sound going straight to Geralt’s aching cock. He growled and rushed to unlace his trousers, a hiss escaping his lips as he took himself in hand. Dandelion swore as Marie lowered herself onto him, both whore and poet gasping at the feeling. The scent of their joined arousal was almost too much.

She rode Dandelion with the enthusiasm that only a whore could have, moaning and whining and gasping as she fucked herself. Dandelion’s fingers gripped into the soft muscles of her thighs, thrusting into her, a string of poetic nonsense falling from his lips.

Geralt couldn’t look away.

He fisted his cock in time to their movements, imagining it was him that made Dandelion moan so sinfully.

It had been before, but fuck… this was a whole new level.

The way their bodies moved as one, the sounds of flesh slapping together, sweat glistening on the poet’s skin. Geralt’s eyes caught a bead of sweat trickling down Dandelion’s neck and he was hypnotised. He wanted to lick the droplet from the poet’s skin, taste the salt on his tongue, bite down on the muscles of Dandelion’s neck as he keened, his orgasm shuddering through his body.

Marie must have noticed where Geralt was looking because she leaned forward to kiss Dandelion’s neck. The poet’s breath caught, and he cried out, thrusts losing their rhythm as he came.

“Fuck, Geralt…” he moaned, just as he would when they touched each other in the woods.

Marie gasped wordlessly, fingers gripping into the sheets, but Geralt was too focussed on his bard.

His bard.

His poet.

His Dandelion.

For Dandelion was his, there was no denying it now. It was one thing for the poet to say Geralt’s name when he was the cause of his orgasm, but that had not been the case.

Geralt almost pitied Marie.

She hadn’t deserved it.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion whined as his head hit the pillow. He was breathing heavily, his fingers tracing patterns into Marie’s thighs, and Geralt was reminded of the way that Dandelion’s fingers would dance over the strings of his lute when he played in the taverns.

He closed his eyes, gripping his cock tighter in his hand. His pleasure was still building slowly, as it always did, but his mind was spiralling and he felt unable to relax. His muscles were tense and he gritted his teeth.

“Your turn, witcher,” Marie called from the bed, “unless you’d rather fuck the poet. He won’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“But Geralt,” Dandelion pouted as he turned to face Geralt, cheeks still flush and rosy.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Geralt muttered, doing up his trousers and stalking from the room. “Dawn, Dandelion.”

“Dawn, yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, jealousy was raging through him like poison. He knew that Dandelion had thought of him, and yet suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t Dandelion said something? Geralt had been right there, every damn day for months, and yet the poet, famous for his inability to shut up, never said a fucking word.

It had taken a whore to make the truth spill from his lips.

And Geralt wasn’t even sure whether Dandelion had meant to tell him. What did he expect from Geralt? Was Geralt supposed to forget it, pretend it never happened? Or maybe Dandelion had been expecting Geralt to take up Marie’s offer…

And he’d run away.

“Fuck!” he yelled, startling a nearby cat as it was washing itself. The creature hissed and spat at him, clawing at the air. Geralt paid it no attention and carried on walking towards the stables to fetch Roach. He would make camp in the woods, and hopefully Dandelion would be there in the morning.

Geralt wasn’t sure what he’d do if the poet decided not to show.

[css1992]

Such a softer sin

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

When he turned to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of non-con (not between main pairing, not explicit), age gap, power imbalance, employer/employee relationship, underage drinking. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:18.4k

-x-

He was admittedly gorgeous, Tony could give him that. The honey brown eyes, the bouncy, fluffy curls and the clear, pale skin worked perfectly in his favor – he looked the part of the innocent, wholesome, young man ready to be swept off his feet and taken care of. Powerful men often liked that act, liked believing that they were deflowering innocence for the first time, liked believing they were wanted, needed. Tony knew better, though, he knew the type, he came across people like him all through his life.

When he was a broke, orphaned, half-starved college student, they wouldn’t give him the time of  day. Snobby, pretty, little things like him only had eyes and time for those who had money, or something to offer – fame, influence, status. At the time, Tony had nothing, he could barely afford to eat everyday. After he graduated from MIT, he started working for Hammer Industries and as he started making more money, slowly, these people started taking notice of him, and he, too, started paying closer attention to them.

They weren’t difficult to spot either, they were usually young, attractive, with beautiful, fake smiles, weak personalities and a penchant for expensive gifts. It was easy to recognize them hanging off powerful men’s arms at functions, and dinners, and galas; bespoke suits or designer dresses covering their bodies, not a lot to add to the conversation. They were accessories, trophies. Pets.

Tony hated them. People who wanted to be at the very top, but couldn’t be bothered to take the stairs. They would use their pretty faces, feigned innocence, beautiful bodies and cute, fake laughs, to get farther faster. Not Tony. He did it the right way – the hard way –, worked day and night to get to his goal, got beat down so many times there were days he thought he wouldn’t be able to stand back up, but he did, every single time.

And time and experience made him wiser, smarter and bitter. At 40, he was finally able to start his own company, Stark Industries, it started small, but his genius inventions put his name on the map fairly quickly. That was how, five years later, he found himself having dinner with Norman Osborn, the most powerful man in New York, and his – boy toy? Sugar baby? Escort? Or something – discussing the possibility of a deal so big it could finally make Stark Industries live up to its full potential.

“So what I’m saying is that we can offer you the best and most advanced technology out there: my nanobots. I guarantee you it will make your job easier, faster and cheaper in the long run. I assure you, this a great deal and you should take it.” Tony was absolutely sure of what he was saying, he knew his product was good, his tech was flawless, he just needed to get it out there. He just needed a company like Oscorps to believe in him, then his work would speak for itself.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Stark, I think this whole nanotech thing is way too expensive and unnecessary, specially considering that I’m pretty sure Baintronics could do the same work for half the price, the old-fashioned way, which has been working just fine for the past decade.” Fuck, no, that old bat wasn’t looking at the big picture, he wasn’t thinking about the long run. Of course old tech would still get the job done, but Tony’s tech could do such a better job and so much more efficiently.

“No, but you see, that’s–”

“But –“ Norman raised a hand, successfully shutting Tony up and annoying the living hell out of him in the process. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll be able to say ‘fuck you’ to men like Norman Osborn. One day. “I’m willing to give it a try. Peter here says you’re the best at what you do, he’s the one who recommended that I agreed to meet with you, actually, when your PA called.”

Tony was taken aback by that information and eyed the young man carefully, causing him to blush a deep red and lower his gaze with a small, timid smile. Tony thought he was faking the whole thing, trying to be cute and sweet, but fuck – it worked for him. He seemed really young, maybe in his early twenties, and Tony had no idea how he could have heard of him, he wasn’t exactly famous, nor was S.I. His breakthroughs were only ever published in very specific scientific journals.

“I’m a huge fan of your work, Mr. Stark, I’ve always told Norman you two should work together, you’re both men ahead of your time.” He said quietly. He had a high-pitched, slightly feminine voice, which probably also worked in his favor with men like Osborn. It made him sound younger than he probably was, easier to manipulate and dominate.

Reluctantly, Tony accepted the compliment with a tight smile. He really needed that deal, he really needed for that to work, it would be the break SI needed, he could feel it, he could already taste the success.

“Very well, so here’s my offer. You will supply Oscorps with your nanotech for a year, then we can take it from there. This would be your cut for this first year.” Osborn wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it towards Tony across the table. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the numbers – and the amount of zeros –, but he pretended to be cool about it, he even put on a show of looking slightly disappointed. “And there’s a lot more where this comes from, Stark. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.”

“I do hope it is, Mr. Osborn. I look forward to working with your company. I’m sure we’re gonna be a great fit.�� Tony tried to sound cool and professional, but he was having a little heart attack on the inside. He had been trying to schedule a meeting with Norman for months and the billionaire – or, most likely, his PA – kept making excuses. Now there he was, closing a huge deal with the promise of a mutually beneficial friendship in the future.

After that, he could breathe more easily during dinner. He couldn’t wait to tell Pepper, Bruce and Nat, though, they had to celebrate properly, maybe they could all go to his apartment and finally crack open that Macallan he bought when he made his first million. But meanwhile, he was stuck in the restaurant with Norman and his boy-toy, which he wouldn’t complain too much about, at least it was a nice view.

Again, there was no denial that the boy was beautiful. There was just something naturally sensual and charismatic about him, Tony couldn’t avoid looking his way, even when he wasn’t talking. And when he did talk, it was magnetic. He didn’t say much, as Tony expected, but what he didn’t expect was for him to be so smart. The few times he said anything was to ask questions about his tech, and those were surprisingly pertinent. Sometime along the night, Tony figured out that he was studying to become a mechanical engineer at Columbia and he wondered if Norman had anything to do with it – probably.

Tony was reminded of his own college years, of how he had to work his ass off to get a scholarship, and how many crazy hours he had to work to make ends meet, just to be able to build something for himself. He didn’t seek the help of men like Norman, although he could have. The name Stark meant something, once upon a time. His father was considered a gifted inventor, he was respected by huge companies, but he never built anything of his own.

When he died, Tony was only eleven. He still didn’t know exactly what happened, but soon after that, his mother lost everything he had left – which wasn’t much to begin with. She was never quite herself again, she was so depressed, she never even smiled anymore, she sometimes didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, Tony was the one doing the house chores, cooking for her, trying to make sure she was okay. She died eight years later from an aneurysm, Tony found her lying on the couch, looking peaceful for the first time in so many years.

In short, he never had it easy, and he never tried to make it easier for himself either – at least not in shady ways. He just wanted to do the right thing, even if it took longer – which it did. He was a forty-five year old man, but he made a name for himself, the name Stark held respect once again.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The young man got up after a quick peck to Norman’s lips and headed to the bathroom. Tony made a huge effort and pointedly did not stare at his ass as he left. He was really proud of himself for that, maybe two years earlier he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off, he had no shame. At least now he had some. A little. Sort of.

“What do you think of him?” Norman had a neutral expression on, he gave nothing away, but it seemed like a test. What sort of question was that, why did it matter what Tony thought of his fuck toy?

“He seems really smart,” he answered with a small smile. It was a polite, diplomatic answer, and not untrue.

“What else?” Norman pushed, with a knowing smirk, and Tony almost cursed under his breath, thinking that maybe he’d been too obvious with his staring all through dinner, after all.

“He’s very pretty,” he admitted, although still with his cool, professional face on. Norman’s smirk grew wider.

“He sure is. Cute pet. Smart, polite, funny. You should get one for yourself, Stark. They’re kinda expensive, but worth every penny.” His shark-like smile took over his whole face and Tony had to fight back a grimace. He just smiled and shook his head no.

“Not really my style, sir.” Buying people, paying for sex, that sort of thing, he wanted to add.

“It’s not anyone’s style until it is.” He gave Tony a once over and smirked. “We’re not getting any younger.” The engineer was offended, he wanted to tell him he aged like good wine, unlike certain people, but refrained. He just gave him a strained smile and took a sip of his drink.  

As if on cue, the pretty boy returned to the table and Tony took a couple of seconds to appreciate his outfit. He wore a dark blue suit, very elegant and very expensive looking, certainly a gift from Osborn, and it fit him like a glove. Tony supposed it was bespoke. It complimented his lithe, lean body beautifully.

When he turned around to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

“So, come by the office on Monday, we’ll talk over all the details, then you can take the draft contract to your legal team and we can meet again – say, in another week?”

“Yeah, sure, this sounds perfect,” he answered coolly, not mentioning that his “legal team” consisted of one single Natasha Romanoff, who would have his balls for dinner when she found out that she would only have seven days to look over what was bound to be a very long, very complex contract.

“Well, then, Mr. Stark. You’ve got yourself a deal.” Norman got up from his chair, what clearly meant dinner was over, and Tony rushed to his feet, offering his had to shake.

“You won’t regret this, sir,” he spoke in a strong, firm voice, because he was positive of it.

“Good.” Osborn shook his hand once and turned to leave without saying goodbye.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Stark, I hope we’ll see each other again soon.” The pretty boy took his hand as well, eyes glinting, a coy smile on his face. Tony couldn’t tell if he was flirting or if he was pretending to be shy, but he ignored it and just nodded curtly.

“Thank you, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, too.” He didn’t dare try to remember his name, Tony was pretty sure it started with a P, but he wouldn’t risk it.

As soon as they left the restaurant, the CEO punched the air in celebration, calling Pepper right away.

---*---

The meeting on Monday went smoothly, they agreed that Tony would be personally charged with the maintenance of his tech at least a week a month – he made it seem like it was a courtesy, but, in reality, he still didn’t have anyone on his team who could do the job quite as well as he could. They also agreed that he would have a small team of five scientists at his disposal during such period, so he wouldn’t have to dislodge anyone from his company to do it – again, he didn’t mention that five people were basically half of his scientific team and he couldn’t afford them not working for SI for a whole week each month.

As expected, he didn’t see the pretty boy in the meeting, Tony supposed he only made an appearance in social functions and such, so he could make Norman look good. To Tony’s surprise, though, seven days later, after Natasha bullied him into promising a 10% raise after the shit he’d pulled with the contract, the pretty boy was in the meeting room when he arrived to sign the deal. Norman’s PA and a few of his lawyers were there as well, Tony was with Pepper and Natasha, and he quickly whispered to Pepper that he was the boy he’d told her about. He approached them with a shy, nervous smile and Tony almost wanted to roll his eyes at the facade.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, I’m an intern here.” Ah, Peter. That sounded about right. Tony thought it was something along those lines. And he was an intern for Oscorps, of course. What a joke. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stark. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker, this is Miss Potts, my assistant, and this is Miss Romanoff, head of my legal team. I’ll have a coffee – black, no sugar. Thank you.” Again, he kept it professional and barely even looked at the kid, he knew what he looked like and he knew he was off limits, so why tease himself by looking?

“I’m good.” Natasha smiled sweetly, making the boy blush even harder.

“I’ll have the same as Mr. Stark, thank you, Mr. Parker.” Peter quickly turned and headed out of the room and Pepper turned to whisper to him. “You weren’t kidding, he’s really fucking young, he looks like he could be Norman’s grandson, for Christ’s sake.” Tony snorted and Natasha eyed them knowingly, but with a look that screamed “behave” and they both schooled their expressions. Shortly after, the boy walked back in with their coffee and they thanked him, as he blushed and nodded, taking a seat to the left of what should be Osborn’s chair.  

The meeting didn’t take long at all, everything had already been discussed, it was just a formality, so barely twenty minutes later they were all getting up from their seats, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. Tony was almost out of the room when he felt a hand at his elbow followed by a softly spoken, “Mr. Stark, can I have a word?”.

Of course the devil himself would tempt him, even if Tony was trying to be good. He was forced to turn around and actually look at the young man, he was wearing a lavender dress shirt, with a dark gray tie and black pants. He looked like the cutest little businessman ever, and Tony was sure that if Peter were to turn his back, he would be presented with his perfect bubble butt looking amazing in those slacks, but – he was the forbidden fruit. Besides, Tony mused, he probably couldn’t afford a single night with Peter, he was only a millionaire, after all, and he’d rather spend his money on shiny things and get his lays for free.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The boy’s cheeks were impossibly red and Tony figured he couldn’t really fake that, so he supposed he really was shy to some degree. He looked over his shoulder and saw Pepper and Natasha waiting just outside the door, warning looks on their faces, and he rolled his eyes.

“I was wondering – I talked to No--, I mean, Mr. Osborn, about the possibility of maybe, uhm. Working with you? When you come to do the maintenance, I mean. It’s just, we don’t really have an engineering department, so you would be working mainly with biochemists and a few lab techs, so I thought maybe I could assist you with the hands-on work, you know? I don’t know if Mr. Osborn mentioned, but I’m studying to become a mechanical engineer as well and it would be an honor working with you, sir. Mr. Osborn said it was ok as long as you agreed, so...” He shuffled his feet and avoided looking at the older man.

“Look, kid.” Tony sighed, because, fuck. How could he say no to Norman’s boy without being rude? And how could he say yes to working with someone who was clearly useless to him and would only serve as a distraction – and worse, a temptation. He needed a way out of that. “I don’t really know if there would be much for you to do, I mean, it’s pretty new and advanced technology, and you’re, what, a freshman, right?”

“Actually, I’ll graduate next fall, sir.” Tony was taken aback by that and it must have shown on his face if Peter’s answering blush was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, how old are you again?” He asked, trying not to sound too rude.

“I’ll be twenty in August, sir.” If Tony was impressed by that, he didn’t let it show, but if the kid would manage to graduate from Columbia at twenty, then he must not be that useless after all, but Tony wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Very well, then. I guess I’ll see you in a month, Mr. Parker.” He nodded and Peter could barely contain his grin when he shook his hand excitedly. It was cute and endearing and – oh, God, Tony almost fell for his little act. Fuck, he really needed to be on his toes around that guy.

“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it!”

As soon as Tony stepped out of the building and headed towards his car with Natasha and Pepper on his heels, the Russian red-head looked at him seriously.

“Tony, I swear to God, if you try to get your dick wet with that boy, I quit. I’m not even gonna start on how much legal and PR trouble you’re gonna get yourself into by fucking Norman’s boyfriend, specially considering he’s, like, twelve, and happens to work for your business partner. Don’t fuck this up!” She warned as she got inside the car and, again, Tony had to roll his eyes as he got behind the wheel.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie, if the circumstances were different, I’d be all over that,” he admitted, noticing Pep’s aggravated look. “But of course I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize this deal, ok? Besides, you know how I feel about gold diggers. You saw him and you saw Osborn, why in the fucking hell a guy like him would fuck a mummy like Osborn? He’s, like, a hundred years old!”

“He’s fifty five, and I don’t know if you know this, Tony, but people have sex for reasons that go beyond appearances. You know, like love, affinity, connection –”

“-- Money, fame, status. C’mon, Pep, don’t be naive. Do you really think that boy loves Osborn? He just likes expensive restaurants and fancy cars. Maybe, if he’s thinking big, he’s gonna use him to get a good job after graduation, but that’s it.”

“Well, then, if you think he’s such a terrible person, you’ll have no problem staying the hell away from him, right?” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he looked away from the traffic for a second to smirk at her.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, easy breezy.”

--*--

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy breezy.

Peter was like a lost puppy trailing after him the following month, he spent the whole week glued to his hip, asking questions, making suggestions, and even supplying him with a never ending amount of coffee. If Tony was a hundred percent honest, he kinda liked it. The kid seriously treated him like a hero, a celebrity, he seemed to look up to him and, in the end, he proved to be a valuable asset on the team. He was really smart and hardworking, he understood everything Tony was saying even before he was done talking and he had really steady, tiny hands, which were always useful with nanotech.

Tony couldn’t really stay away from him and slowly learned a few things about him from what little information he stuttered out when answering his questions. First, the older man learned that he got into Columbia when he was only sixteen, which was kind of amazing, if he was being completely honest. Tony wanted to believe that that had happened way before he met Norman Osborn, but he didn’t really know when they met.

He had a scholarship and lived with his aunt until she passed away a little over a year earlier and now he shared an apartment with four other people, which surprised Tony, he figured Norman would have hooked him up with a nice place – but then again, he had no idea when they met, it could have been only months earlier. Peter said that, originally, he wanted to go to MIT, but he only got a partial scholarship there, so he had to give it up and go to Columbia. He also said that that was how he knew Tony beforehand. The older man was sort of a famous MIT alumnus, specially among the engineering students, so Peter heard of him and followed his work through scientific publications, which was – well, Tony was flattered.

Even if those bits of information somewhat made Tony warm up to the young man, other few things still annoyed him just as much. First of all, clearly Peter was a very bright kid, possibly one of the smartest people Tony knew besides himself and Bruce, he didn’t really need Norman’s influence to succeed, and still, there he was. Second, he quickly picked up on the fact that Peter wasn’t exactly Norman’s boyfriend, he was more of a… Sugar baby? And one of many, actually, although he seemed to be the favorite. After Tony signed the deal, he started paying closer attention to what tabloids said about Norman and apparently he had a very long list of (young) lovers, but he was officially single.

Somehow, that made Tony even more disgusted by their relationship. He just couldn’t understand why a guy like Peter would put himself in that position, for what? Money? A job? What was it that Norman could offer him that he couldn’t get himself? The thing was, Peter kind of reminded Tony of himself at that age. He was pretty much in the same situation: he had no family and no money, he only had his brains – and while Tony had made something out of it, Peter was trying to take a shortcut and the engineer didn’t appreciate that.

“Here, check this out, see how they respond a lot faster now?” Tony made room so that the younger man could look through the microscope, a wide grin spreading across his face in a few seconds. “You have to think of them as neurons, they communicate with each other by electrical pulses, similar to synapses. For that to work out perfectly and seamlessly, they need to be really close by, without touching, that’s why the electromagnetic field has to be perfect, if it’s just a tiny bit off, the response time increases exponentially. Got it?”

“Got it, Mr. Stark!” He answered excitedly and Tony smiled at him.

“Well, my work here is done. See you next month?” Tony got up from his chair, gathering his things around the lab.

“I can’t wait." Somehow, Tony knew he actually meant it.

The following month, Peter was just as helpful and just as excited as the month before. He was in the lab before Tony – who was always early himself – and he always greeted him with a bright smile and an excited wave of his hand. As the engineer settled his things on his work bench, Peter would get him coffee, and he always remembered how Tony liked it. They got right to work, which they did everyday for a week without any disruption. The intern always offered to stay late, but Tony never took him up on that, he knew he had classes in the afternoon and he didn’t want him to get in trouble. Just as he was starting to warm up to him, though, on Friday, the engineer was reminded why he didn’t like him in the first place.

“You’re late, Mr. Parker.” Tony mumbled from his seat in front of the microscope as soon as he heard the glass door open with a hiss as the smell of coffee filled the room. Peter was only twelve minutes late, but it was only their second week working together, it didn’t seem very professional.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I was – uh, in a meeting with Mr. Osborn.” He lied through his teeth, Tony could almost smell the nervousness when he came close enough. He hated being lied to, specially when he knew what Peter was probably doing in that “meeting”. It was just inexcusable.

“Just because you’re Norman’s boy doesn’t mean you get special treatment in this lab, you hear me? I don’t care what you do with him all the other weeks that I’m not here, but if you wanna be a part of my team, during my lab hours, you gotta be here and on time. Are we clear?” He didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the microscope and almost missed the whispered and wavered, “yes, sir” that Peter let out. When he turned to the younger man, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were rumpled, his face ashen and his lower lip was wobbling, he looked like he had a rough night and an early morning, and he looked like he was holding back tears. Tony almost regretted the harsh treatment. Almost. “Is this my coffee?” He pointed at the cup, averting his gaze.

“Yes, sir.” He answered quickly, offering the beverage like a gift.

On his third month there, Tony tried to keep his distance from the younger man. He promised Natasha and Pepper that he would and, up until that point, he hadn’t been very successful. So during the week of March that he had to go to Oscorps, he avoided the younger man, made himself unavailable and charged him with boring and complicated tasks that should take all week to get done. Still, the boy did everything he was told and only took half the time expected, he was always on time and always, always brought him coffee, just the way he liked it. It was really hard to ignore him.  

“You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, right? It’s not in your job description.” Tony felt the need to point out on Friday when he saw the boy walking in with the beverage, but he just shrugged and smiled a little.

“I know, I just want to make sure you have everything you need, sir. Besides, I used to work at a coffee shop, I don’t mind making your coffee.” When he said that, Tony’s brows shot into his hairline.

“You made this?” He asked, incredulously, and the boy cocked his head in confusion.

“Yeah, where did you think this came from?” He frowned, amused.

“Uh, I don’t know, some fucking gourmet coffee shop downstairs?” Peter laughed, genuinely laughed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in the most endearing way, as he shook his head.

“You’re funny, Mr. Stark.”  

Peter was the funny one, actually, and the whole thing was just so confusing to Tony. He thought he had the younger man all figured out, he thought he knew what kind of person he was, what he was after, but sometimes Peter would do or say things that just didn’t add up to Tony’s assumptions. The boy was kind and generous and humble, he was proactive and hardworking, and so annoyingly nice. He was easy to talk to, too, sometimes they’d have whole conversations about the most random subjects as they worked and Tony would only realize what they did at the end of the day, as he left and Peter waved at him with that charming smile and it made something burn in Tony’s chest and he couldn’t figure out why.  

On his fourth month there, Peter surprised him on the first day. He brought him coffee in a mug that read: “If it ain’t broke, take it apart and fix it”. Usually, his coffee was put in a styrofoam cup with Oscorps logo on it, he had no idea where the mug came from, and when he asked, the boy blushed slightly, shuffling his feet.

“Uhm, actually – I heard it was your birthday last week, so I just – I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate or anything, it’s just – the environment and stuff. So. Uh – happy birthday?” He looked really uncomfortable just saying that, and Tony was equal parts amused and amazed, so he  dropped his eyes back to the simple, white mug with bright red letters.

“That’s – actually really nice, Peter. Thank you.” He looked back at the young man and his cheeks were burning red. It was really… fucking cute. Fuck.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Stark.” His answering tiny smile warmed the older man’s heart, but he swallowed whatever feeling dared to emerge.

By Tony’s fifth month working with Oscorps, things finally started to feel natural, pleasant. When he arrived in the morning, he greeted everyone by name, threw smiles and flirty comments here and there and walked the hallways like he owned the place. His team worked like a well-oiled machine and they were always early, specially Peter, after that one time he was late. When he arrived, they already had a head start on him, which was always good, and they were able to go home a little earlier everyday.

“Good morning, everybody.” Tony raised his head when he heard Norman’s voice, a little surprised. Aside from his first day there, he hadn’t seen the old man at all, so it was weird for him to be in the lab, specially so early.

“Mr. Osborn, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tony asked, watching closely as the older man walked towards Peter, who avoided his gaze furiously, pretending to be focused on his work, although it was clear that he was barely breathing. Norman grinned in his direction, but didn’t say anything, and Tony raised an eyebrow at the interaction.

“Miss Watson let me know you would be here today, so I thought I’d personally invite you to our annual Charity Gala, it will take place next month, on the eleventh. Will you be able to make it?”

“Yes, of course, sir, I can move some stuff around.” Fucking hell, he hated those functions. A bunch of assholes kissing other assholes’s butts and pretending to be good citizens by donating to charity only for the press. Just his type of event. But nonetheless, the type of event he needed to be seen in, someplace where he could meet people and make connections.

“Great, I’ll send the formal invitation to Stark Industries, I look forward to seeing you there. Mr. Stark.” He nodded in his direction and Tony did the same. “Mr. Parker.” He turned towards the young man who still hadn’t looked up. His cheeks burned a bright red when he looked at the older man.

“Mr. Osborn.” He gritted his teeth and, again, Norman grinned, buttoning his suit jacket as he left the lab.

Hm. Odd.

--*--

“At least pretend to be having a good time, Tony.” Pepper whispered through her teeth, a fake smile plastered on as she waved to people Tony could barely recognize. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown, his birthday gift to her, apparently, and not for the first time Tony wondered what would have been if he hadn’t blown things up with her. If he hadn’t cheated on her with half the city when they were in college. He was a stupid, stupid boy in his twenties. And thirties. And early forties.

It was a work in progress.

“I am pretending, don’t I look convincing?” He turned to look at her with what he was certain was a terrible grimace and she snorted into her champagne glass, causing them both to giggle like stupid teenagers. He was glad she had agreed to go as his plus one, he would have blown his brains for sure if he was alone in there.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.” Ah, Tony could recognize that sweetly high-pitched voice from miles away, but when he turned around he wasn’t ready for such a vision. Peter was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit with a black, silk shirt underneath, as well as a black tie. His hair was perfectly swept to the side, his curls tamed for once, but still showing at the nape of his neck. He looked absolutely beautiful and fucking expensive. Tony wanted to unwrap him, then wreck him in the best possible way. “And Miss Potts, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, it’s nice to see you again,” she answered pleasantly and Tony was glad she was there because he was sure that he was staring for way too long to be polite. He cleared his throat and smiled at the young man, who quickly slipped into character looking shyly at him from under his eyelashes.

“Mr. Parker, fancy seeing you here,” Tony spoke confidently, subtly looking around for Norman, but he was nowhere to be seen. “And where’s Mr. Osborn?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.” He averted his gaze, his tiny and usually steady hands trembling a little, before closing into fists. “Well, it was nice seeing you –“

“Hey, c’mon, have a drink with us,” Tony interrupted him, sensing his discomfort.

“Oh, uh – I’m sorry, sir, I’m not old enough to drink.” Tony was almost taken aback by that fact. The amount of information that he carried in that brilliant brain of his did not compute with his age.

“I won’t tell if you don’t. Neither will Miss Potts, right?” Tony turned to look at Pepper, only to see her staring daggers at him, in a way that probably only he could tell, they had a special way of communicating, so he quickly sent her a “what?” glare and she sighed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of this and I’m just gonna go talk to Mrs. Bain, if you’ll excuse me, please.” She smiled sweetly at Peter and walked away from them, as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well, her loss.” The older man shrugged, grabbing two champagne glasses from a passing waiter. “Have you ever had one of these?” He asked, offering him one of the glasses. “I’m not corrupting you, am I?” Tony asked charmingly, with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Peter giggled,  blushing and shaking his head no.

“No, it’s okay, Norman usually gets me a few drinks when we’re out,” he answered, accepting the glass. Just the mention of the older man had Tony deflating slightly, reminded of the fact that Peter couldn’t be his.

“So, how come you didn’t come together?” He asked innocently, although he knew it was probably a touchy subject. The younger man took a long sip of his drink, licking his wet lips once he was done, and Tony wished it was his tongue running across those thin, pink lips.

“He’d rather bring another date, so.” He shrugged with a small, fake smile, and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve recently read that you’re working on a holographic system that’s supposed to connect with the user's hippocampus and project their memories, is that true?” Tony was surprised by that, he had written a paper about it with Bruce not long before, Peter must really keep up with his work.

“Yeah, but I’m in a bit of a pickle right now, got stuck with the neuroscience portion of it.” Tony scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed about the admission, but Peter only smiled wider.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. And it’s gonna be groundbreaking. Again. Well, it seems like everything you do changes the world somehow.” His cheeks were flushed, and maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe Tony was falling for Peter’s little game, but he thought he was actually flirting with him. Really flirting, not “I wanna be your sugar baby” flirting.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me, kid.” Tony dared to step a little closer to him and the young man bit his lower lip, holding back a smile, cheeks flushing pink.

“Yeah, but I think you can back it up.” He tilted his head back a little to look up at the older man. Tony held his gaze for a few seconds, before he dropped it to his lips. He smiled when the young man nervously licked them.

“I’m sorry I’m too hard on you in the lab. I just don’t want anyone thinking that I treat you differently because of the boss.” Tony took yet another step and Peter didn’t move an inch, allowing him to get closer and closer.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just thankful to be in your team, I’m learning a lot.” This time, Tony was sure he wasn’t imagining things, Peter’s eyes definitely dropped to stare at his lips and the engineer inhaled sharply.

“Peter –“

“Ah, there you are.” Norman appeared out of thin air and Tony took three steps back, a cool smile on his face. Osborn was accompanied by a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty five, she was tall and slender, and looked like a supermodel – and she probably was. “Good evening, Mr. Stark. Pete.”

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn,” Tony answered with a schooled smile, not sure if he was in trouble for giving Peter champagne, but the CEO barely seemed to notice it when he turned to the younger man, who didn’t even bother to answer him.

“How do you like the party so far?” He asked politely, although his gaze was fixed on Peter. His date seemed bored out of her mind, but she eyed Tony with interest and the older man had to avert his gaze, he really didn’t need yet another sin to avoid.

“It’s great, sir,” Tony answered politely, but the older man didn’t really seem to care.

“Good, good. Do you mind if I borrow Peter for a little while?” He eyed the younger man and Peter grit his teeth, his hand tightening around the champagne flute.

“No, sure, he’s all yours.” He gestured towards the boy and he looked back at him with a look of betrayal on his face. Tony raised his eyebrows, not sure what Peter expected him to do, but the young man rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Come on, Peter, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And with that, he led the way, confident that the boy would follow behind, which he did, after downing the rest of his drink, shooting one last pleading look Tony’s way. Again, the older man had no idea what he wanted.  

Once they left, Tony quickly found Pepper in the crowd as she chatted with Justin Hammer, the biggest asshole to ever exist in the corporate world. He stole all of Tony’s projects when the engineer worked for him, all the weapons the U.S.A. Army used ten years earlier were designed by Tony and he never got any credit for that. Two years after he quit Hammer Industries, they lost that contract because they simply had nothing new to offer.  

“Good evening, Mr Hammer, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take my date elsewhere, someplace where the toxicity level is more bearable. Bye.” Tony interrupted them unceremoniously and steered Pepper away from him as she threw apologies over her shoulder. “Don’t apologize to him, he’s trash.”

“Tony, you can’t act like this if you wanna be the CEO of the biggest tech company in the country. You need to make connections and keep good relation –“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that with anyone else, except for him, promise.” He rolled his eyes once they got to the bar, where he leaned on the counter and flirted with the barman, before ordering two drinks.

“Great, then I hope you intend to keep a good relationship with Mr. Osborn,” she whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. “Just a quick reminder: fucking his boyfriend is not very friendly.”

“Peter’s not his boyfriend,” he answered automatically, before taking a sip of his scotch, his eyes scanning the room until he found the younger man in a small circle of people, along with Mr. Osborn and his date. Tony hated that so much, the boy looked devastated but he was still there. Why the fuck was he still there? He didn’t need that shit. “They didn’t even come together today.”

“Okay, not the answer I was looking for, not a reassuring answer at all.” Pepper spoke to herself under her breath, then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Tony Stark, I hope you’re not –“

“Jesus, relax!” He snapped, freeing his face from her grip. “You and Natasha are driving me mad with this, I swear to God, the more you tell me not to do it, the more I wanna do it, just out of spite. Leave it alone, will ya?”

“Fine, whatever, do what you want, that always works out perfectly for you,” she snapped right back, taking her drink from the counter and walking away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face!”

Tony ignored her, they always had those arguments – she was usually right, Tony usually fucked up somehow and he usually went crying to her anyway, and she always helped him, so whatever. He was slightly tipsy, anyway, he would regret the whole thing in the morning, but right at that moment he was focused on Peter. The young man seemed really uncomfortable and out of place where he stood, among a few businessmen, but he was still there.  

Norman stood to his left with his date, talking animatedly with the other men. To Peter’s right, there was a tall, slender man, in his early forties, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. Sometimes he would whisper things in his ear, eliciting a small, polite smile from him, but no answer. Some other times he would rest a hand on his waist for no particular reason and Tony would watch with amusement as the boy tried to get away politely. Norman watched the whole interaction discreetly, carefully, but didn’t intervene.

Eventually, Peter excused himself and headed towards the bathroom. Tony watched the other man and, sure enough, he followed him there a few seconds later, under Norman’s intense gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. Tony quickly understood what was probably going on. Again, the older man was disappointed in the boy. Such a smart kid, with so much potential, he could do so much better. Tony turned towards the bar, ordering another scotch. Since he was there, with no date, and nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few drinks.

Several minutes later, he was leaning against the bar, talking to Mr. Zimmer, the CEO of Accutech, and actually scored a meeting for the following week to pitch his nanobots. After his deal with Oscorps, he was able to close two smaller ones and had a few more meetings scheduled. As he imagined, people took notice of Stark Industries after that. Having such a huge, important company such as Oscorps trusting SI meant a lot to potential partners.

As soon as Mr. Zimmer left, Tony saw Peter rushing across the room and out the door. He seemed really upset and agitated, so the older man followed him outside. When he found him again, Peter seemed a little lost. He looked around, as if he didn’t really know which way to go – the gala was held in one of Osborn’s mansions upstate and even leaving the premises was difficult to do without a car, the property was huge. He checked his phone, then, but Tony noticed the screen didn’t light up, it was probably dead. The kid ran his hands through his hair, seemingly desperate, and finally Tony decided to put him out of his misery.

“Hey, kid.” He stepped closer to the boy and he turned quickly, almost as if he was ready to throw a punch or something. “Whoa, there!” Tony held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, examining the boy’s face. He looked distressed, his eyes and face were red and he was a little out of breath. “Hey, are you ok? Do you need a ride home?” His eyes lit up in relief, his face relaxing instantly.

“Would you mind?” He almost pleaded and Tony was a little taken aback by the tone. “It’s just – my phone’s dead and – I just really need to get home.”

“Sure, kid, it’s fine, I was heading home anyway, c’mon.” Tony asked a valet to bring his car around and watched Peter as the younger man seemed to calm down slowly, but he was still acting a little out of sorts as they waited for the car to arrive. “Is everything okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure, just a little tired, I guess.” He lied, a fake smile on his face. He was easy to read, most of the time, when he wasn’t trying to attract older, rich men, Tony supposed.

Once the valet brought the car around, Tony opened the door for Peter, who quickly slipped inside like it was an oasis. Tony tipped the valet and joined the younger man, noticing that he seemed almost relieved to be leaving the party.

“Rough night?” Tony asked conversationally once he started the car, pulling away from the driveway. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t help it.

“Try rough couple of months,” he scoffed, running a hand though his once tamed hair, elbow resting against the window.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looked at the younger man from the corner of his eye and saw him shake his head weakly.

“Not really,” he mumbled and they fell silent. Tony wanted to say something else, but Peter didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, so he just drove for a few minutes, heading for the city, when the kid spoke up again. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, you can drop me off anywhere, I’ll just take the subway.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you home. Where is home, by the way?” Tony knew Peter lived with four other students close to campus, but he didn’t know where exactly.

“Harlem.” He sighed, sounding annoyed. “Ugh, that’s the last place I want to be right now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Why? Trouble with your roommates?” Tony raised a brow and the boy shook his head a little.

“Not really, they’re just really loud, specially on weekends. They probably have people over right now and I’m not in the mood, it’s all.” He gave him a tiny smile, but he didn’t really mean it.

“Tell you what,” Tony started, choosing his next words carefully. “Why don’t you come to my place?” He saw from the corner of his eye when Peter almost broke his neck turning to look at him in surprise. “Just for a few hours, so you can cool down some. We can have a few drinks, grab a bite to eat, and once you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you home. Or you can crash there, whatever you prefer. What do you say?” He turned to look at the young man and his eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. Tony almost wanted to laugh.

“Uh – I don’t – I don’t want to be a bother, sir, you’ve alre--”

“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t be offering if it was a bother. You don’t need to say yes if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’ll make this old man very happy, I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.” Tony smiled charmingly at him and Peter blushed, the older man could tell there were a million things going through his head.

“Uhm. Okay. Yeah, sure.” He nodded and Tony’s heart did a little flip in his chest and he didn’t even know why. If he was honest, he had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it, he just wasn’t ready to let the younger man go.

The rest of the drive was long and mostly silent. Peter was usually very lively and talkative in the lab, he always had some fun fact to share or an anecdote about something that happened in class, but that night he was gloomy and quiet, but he still answered to Tony’s small talk. When they arrived at the older man’s penthouse, Peter was a little nervous, looking around as if he was out of place, looking almost regretful. Tony decided that he hated seeing him like that.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” He asked as soon as they walked into the living room. The young man turned to look at him curiously, a small smile on his face as he nodded. “Evening, Jarvis. Could you get the windows, please?” As he said that, Peter frowned, then jumped almost a foot in the air when the A.I. answered.

“Good evening, sir, I hope you had a good time at the party.” As he said that, an entire wall of the living room turned from blurred, dark glass to transparent glass, revealing an amazing view of the city skyline. “Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“What – how – you have an AI here? How does he know who I am?” Peter half whispered, half shouted, apparently undecided if he should be concerned or amazed. Tony laughed and placed a hand on Peter’s lower back, guiding him towards the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I don’t only have it, I made it. And he’s equipped with an advanced face recognition technology that I designed, in case anyone comes in here with ill intentions. I started working on Jarvis when I was at Hammer Industries, it was supposed to go to the military, but after I resigned, I decided to keep it to myself. Jarvis runs the house and helps me in the lab.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and observed as the young man leaned against the window, looking amazed and a little lost.

“So cool!” Peter’s eyes were round and excited, all the gloominess from earlier apparently forgotten. “Can I talk to him? Like, will it acknowledge my voice?”

“Of course, Mr. Parker, why wouldn’t I?”  

“Hi, Jarvis!” And just like that, Peter stroke up the silliest conversation with Jarvis, as Tony headed to the kitchen. He decided that since Peter wasn’t really allowed to drink, he’d make them some coffee, and later they could order something to eat. When he went back to the living room, the young man was still leaning against one of the windows as Jarvis tried to convince him that he had no intention of starting a rebellion to wipe out humanity.

“Don’t worry, Jarvis wouldn’t do that,” Tony smiled, placing two mugs on the coffee table and Peter shrugged.

“I wish he would, sometimes I think we failed as a species.” He turned around to face the engineer with a cheeky smile. Fuck, he was so beautiful. “Thank you for everything, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“You would have figured something out, you’re resourceful. Maybe you would have built a car out of a cardboard box, two paper clips and four potatoes.” He leaned against the window beside Peter and the young man looked up at him with a grin.

“Or maybe I would have found someone to lend me a charger so I could call an Uber?” He bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own and the older man scoffed.

“Yeah, but that would’ve been boring, don’t you think?” He raised a brow with a grave face and the young man laughed.

“You’re right, this is much more fun.” His face was so open, so beautiful, all awkwardness from before completely gone. Tony leaned in to whisper close to his ear.

“It can get better.” He pulled back a little to look at the boy’s face. He looked surprised, eyes wide and lips parted, but he didn’t pull away, he didn’t take a single step back, so Tony took a chance. He placed one hand gently on his cheek, testing his reaction, and Peter’s breath hitched, his gaze dropped to Tony’s lips, but he stood still, breathing rapidly but quietly. That was all the answer he needed.

He buried his hand in those curls he’d been dreaming about for months, as his other arm snaked around his thin waist, pulling him close, no chance of escape. Not that he thought that Peter would try to escape if he could, anyway. Tony felt intoxicated when their lips touched, Peter’s mouth was as soft as it looked, his skin as smooth as he imagined. The younger man melted against him, bodies flush together as Tony’s tongue begged for entrance in his mouth.  

He pushed him against the window, once again testing the young man’s reaction to his advances, but Peter was so far gone, he barely seemed to notice they’d changed positions. Tony kissed him deeply, slowly, as his hands made their way around the boy’s hips, thumbs stroking his hipbones over the silk shirt, and he sighed. Tony licked into his mouth, swallowing his little gasps and whimpers, and he could tell that Peter had never been kissed like that before, if the way his legs gave out were any indication. He held him up, though, his body trapped between the older man’s and the cold window.

He felt Peter’s erection already poking his upper thigh and he smiled into the kiss, feeling his own cock start to swell against Peter’s lower stomach. He moaned quietly, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds to check if the boy was doing okay, but Peter didn’t even open his eyes, he just rocked his hips slowly, rubbing his erection against Tony’s thigh. Feeling confident enough, the older man lowered his hands to his perfect ass, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he pulled him even closer to him. Just as he imagined, it was firm, yet supple, it filled his hands nicely, and Tony didn’t hesitate to lift him a little by the ass, aligning their cocks and pressing both erections together.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, humping against Tony, trying to balance his weight on the tips of his toes as Tony held him up. The older man took advantage of the way he threw his head back, exposing his throat, to make his way down his skin, peppering his long, pale neck with kisses and bites. Peter moaned as he tried to undo Tony’s suit jacket, which he allowed, putting just a little distance between them. He went back to his mouth with another kiss, faster than before, more urgent, before pulling away just a few inches, panting against the kid’s mouth.

“C’mon, babe, let me take you to bed,” he whispered and Peter nodded quickly.

Tony took his hand and led him to his own room, and as soon as they were inside, he pushed Peter against the king sized bed and quickly started working on his shirt, every inch of silky, white skin it revealed made the older man harder. Peter smelt and looked expensive as fuck, his skin was smooth as a baby’s, not a single hair in sight, and it was soft and unmarked, peppered only with a few light brown freckles along the collarbones. His nipples were tiny and light pink, hard from excitement and begging to be bitten.

Tony wanted to eat him up – and out – he always looked good when they were in the lab, in his cute slacks, dress shoes and lab jacket, but that night he looked delicious, like an expensive meal, and Tony was a starving man. He got rid of the shirt, revealing his thin chest and surprisingly defined abs, and he worshiped the exposed skin, covered it with open mouthed, wet kisses and bites until it turned red from the abuse. He wanted to mark him up, leave bruises on him so that at least for a while, Peter could be his.

He took a perked up nipple in his mouth and sucked it mercilessly, as he pinched the other one between his fingers, and Peter gasped, hands flying to grab Tony’s shoulders. He didn’t waste too much time, though, and quickly started undoing his pants, pulling them down his legs. The act revealed even more soft, smooth skin and plump, soft thighs that the older man couldn’t help biting. Peter whined quietly when Tony splayed his open palms on his legs and squeezed, as he sucked bruises on the boy’s inner thighs. His face was so close to his cock, covered only in tight, black boxer briefs, so Tony rubbed his cheek against it and Peter cried out.  As soon as he lowered his boxers, Peter’s cock sprung free, and Tony was delighted. It was small and flushed pink, rock hard and already dripping pre-cum. The older man didn’t think twice as he put it all in his mouth, eliciting a scream from the young man.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Stark!” He bucked his hips wildly, his legs falling open, and, for the second time that evening, Tony thought that maybe nobody had ever done that to him. “Oh, God! Fuck!” He kept moaning desperately, as Tony sank his fingers in his ass cheeks, bobbing his head up and down, sucking and licking his shaft and paying extra attention to the head. Peter kept both of his hands beside his body, clenching at the sheets, not daring to touch Tony or demand anything. The second the older man’s fingers touched his balls, he lost it. “Mr. Stark, please, I – Oh, God, oh my God –“ He blushed furiously, Tony noticed when he raised his head and let go of his cock with a loud pop.

His whole face and chest were flushed pink, he held his upper body up, resting on his elbows as he panted, looking thoroughly debauched. His once gelled curls were wild and loose, covering his forehead, and Tony just wanted to ruin him even more. He smirked at the younger man, who seemed completely out of it, barely able to understand what was happening. Tony lifted his legs, pressing his bent knees to his chest and Peter got the idea and held his legs in place, exposing himself beautifully to him.

The older man’s mouth watered as he looked at his quivering, pink hole. It looked so fucking tight and so fucking ready for his cock at the same time, he could see Peter was mortified in that position, but he still held himself open, so eager for what was to come. Tony grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, burying his face in his crack and licking a stripe up from his tailbone to his balls, only to hear the young man screaming desperately.

Tony was feeling really smug, he didn’t remember the last he made anyone scream like that. He was always a generous lover, he liked giving his partners pleasure, but Peter didn’t seem to be used to it if his reactions were anything to go by, so the older man took even more pleasure in making him feel so good.

“Mr. Stark, I’m gonna – I’m not gonna last, please!” Tony pretended not to hear him, as he kept licking over his rim before he started to try to breach him with his tongue, as Peter cried out, bucking his hips. The older man held him in place and kept trying to fuck his tongue into him, until he felt Peter’s fingers in his hair, pulling him up. “I wanna come with you inside me – please,” he whispered once Tony’s lips were over his mouth, his cock perfectly aligned with the boy’s hole.

He grunted and kissed him again, just as wildly and roughly as he did before. The young man quickly started undoing Tony’s shirt, and only then did he realize that he was still dressed as Peter laid on his bed completely naked. He groaned into the kiss, because fuck, that was hot, but he helped the boy take off his shirt and undershirt.

Peter curled one leg around his waist, kissing Tony back enthusiastically and a little less shyly now that the older was a little undressed as well. He ran his soft hands all over Tony’s broad back, then up his shoulders and into his thick hair, all the while moaning and bucking his hips, begging to be touched. Tony took advantage of the position they were in to slide his fingers in between Peter’s cheeks, feeling his tight entrance twitch, anticipating the touch. He didn’t do much more, though, he just kept kneading his ass, letting his fingertips just slightly brush against his quivering hole.

Peter grew impatient then, and instead of pushing his hips up, against Tony’s own cock, he started pushing then down, against his fingers. The older man chuckled, brushing his chin against the pale neck, already noticing it turning pink with beard burn.

“Mr. Stark, c’mon, please, I--” He mumbled incoherently, holding on for dear life to his shoulders, his breath short, swollen, wet lips parted, his lids heavy. A vision of paradise. “I need--”

Tony knew what he needed, but he wouldn’t give it to him just yet. Still, he let his middle finger wander towards his entrance, feeling his hole clenching, trying to pull it inside, ready to take whatever Tony was willing to give. He grabbed his thighs again, spreading them far apart, making Peter yelp in surprise. He kissed his hole gently one last time, then moved away, getting off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” Tony smirked, undoing his pants, and he noticed Peter’s eyes intent on him. As soon as his cock sprung free, the young man whimpered, whispering “fuck” and biting his lips hard. “Like what you see?” Tony asked, cockily, he knew it was a nice view. He was nicely groomed and his cock was cut, long and thick, and at the moment it was rock hard like never before and dripping with pre-cum. He stepped out of his pants and headed towards the night stand before Peter could answer. He grabbed a bottle lube and made his way back to the bed, positioning himself between his legs once again.

He coated his fingers with plenty of lube and breached his entrance with one fingertip, only to hear a long, deep moan coming from the younger man, who clung to his shoulders for dear life. He fucked his finger in and out of him, slowly at first, but quicker as Peter’s hips started moving along with him, begging for more. Tony leaned down and kissed him, and felt one of Peter’s hands in his hair, as he curled both of his legs around the older man’s waist. Tony kept kissing him as he sunk another finger in his hole, eliciting a surprised moan from him, as he tried to adjust to the stretch.

They kept kissing and rocking against each other eagerly, as Tony fucked him open with his fingers, scissoring and curling them, until he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside him. He drew back just enough to hold his cock, guiding it towards Peter’s entrance. Slowly and unrelentingly, Tony sank his cock inside him, blinded with pleasure as each inch sank further inside. Peter whined in pain but didn’t budge or asked him to stop, he took it like a good boy, holding still, legs spread wide, until Tony bottomed out. When he did, he wrapped his arms around his slight frame, lifting him a little from the bed, and Peter took a deep breath, holding his shoulders.

“That’s it, sweetie, you’re so good for me, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Tony whispered nonsensically in his ear, kissing his cheeks and neck gently, waiting for him to adjust. They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Peter started rocking his hips slowly, and Tony soon caught on. He grabbed his hips and slammed once inside him, hearing a scream coming from the younger man. He drew back and slowly built up a pace, slamming against him like there was no tomorrow. He moaned loudly, a mixture of pleasure and pain, Tony could tell, but instead of asking him to slow down, he pushed back against him just as hard, biting his neck.

Tony may have lost his mind somewhere along the way, pure instinct took over as he fucked into him with abandon, he heard his screams and moans and they made him hit harder, harder, and he thought he heard the younger man screaming just that, as he sank his nails into his shoulders and down his back, until he grabbed Tony’s ass and pulled him closer, faster, harder –

“Oh – Oh, Mr. Stark – I –“ Peter rolled his eyes back and it took Tony the better part of a minute to realize that he was coming, and he hadn’t even touched his cock. Spurts of his warm, white come covered both of their chests and Tony could feel that some of it caught on his chin. The sight of Peter underneath him – debauched, utterly satisfied, ruined – was enough to bring Tony over the edge, the force of his orgasm was almost blinding, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He let himself fall on top of Peter, barely aware of the fact that he was maybe a little too heavy for that, but the younger man didn’t seem to mind, if the soft, barely there caresses on his back were anything to go by.

They were silent for several minutes, bodies cooling down and falling asleep, but Tony’s mind was wide awake. What had he done? Peter was supposed to be off limits for a number of reasons, so many he couldn’t even focus on a single one. He felt the young man sigh softly under him, his hands drawing circles on his back peacefully.

“This was nice,” he whispered and it triggered something in Tony, because, fuck, it was perfect. It was perfect, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? Peter wasn’t really into him. He was just – he was just a fucking –

“I really hope this was a free trial, ‘cause I don’t think I can afford you, kid.” The minute the words left his mouth, he felt the younger man go rigid beneath him. He quickly pushed at Tony’s shoulders, trying to raise his upper body and the older man easily rolled off of him to the side, resting his head on his clasped hands on the pillow.

“What are you insinuating?” Peter asked with a frown, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable, gathering the sheets around him to cover his exposed skin.

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just saying I don’t think I have enough money to pay for this very expensive meal.” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking, pretending he wasn’t as affected by what happened as he was. Peter turned bright red, his mouth falling open, gaping like a fish.

“What – I –“ he stammered, frozen for a few seconds before he jumped into action and out of bed, taking the sheets with him as he looked for his clothes around the room. “I can’t believe you just said that, you fucking asshole! Fuck you!” He yelled towards the bed and Tony was a little  surprised by his reaction.

“Chill, it was a joke.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that he young man was almost fully dressed by then, at least he had his pants and shirt on, his tie and jacket were draped over his arm as he looked for his shoes. When he turned back to Tony, his whole face was inhumanly red and soaked in tears, it made Tony’s heart clench. “Jesus, kid!”

“I’m not laughing, asshole!” He yelled again, marching towards the door without looking back. “You’re all the fucking same, bunch of assholes, what was I thinking? I’m so fucking stup– ” Tony couldn’t hear the rest of his rant because he slammed the door with so much force that the older man was pretty sure he felt the building shaking a little bit.

Well, fuck.

--*--

Two weeks later, when Tony stepped inside the lab, he had a whole plan figured out. After Peter left that night, he went through all five stages of admitting he had been an asshole – as was common for him, he usually went through those at least a few times a week.

So, first, he denied it.

“The kid is obviously overreacting, right? It was just a joke and, even if it wasn’t, well, I wouldn’t have been that far off from the truth.”

Then, he was angry.

“Fuck that kid, he had no right to react the way he did, who does he think he is, slamming the door like that, yelling at me, calling me names, all because of a stupid little joke? Fuck him.”

Then, he bargained.

“So, okay, maybe I was a little over the line, but I can fix it, right? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Then he felt a little sad, because, fuck, thinking back to their time together, the kid had never been anything but nice to him, he didn’t deserve that and Tony always fucked up with people, what was wrong with him?

Finally, he fully accepted it. He was definitely, irrevocably and undoubtedly an asshole. They had a nice time together, the kid was the best lay he had in fucking years, and sure, maybe he was with Norman for money or whatever, but what they did, what they shared that night – it felt pretty fucking real and Tony blew it.  

So when he walked into the lab two weeks later, he had it all figured out. He would ask Peter to stay a little late, then, when everybody left, he would apologize to him sincerely and since he had a taste for expensive gifts, he even got him a gold bracelet, just as an “I’m sorry I was an asshole” gift, a peace offering.

The thing was, when he walked into the lab, Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Mr. Parker?” He asked the closest lab tech and the young woman shrugged, uninterested.

“He quit a few weeks ago, I heard.” She mumbled, concentrated on the microscope in front of her, and Tony cursed under his breath, feeling even more guilty than before. Had the kid felt so offended that he decided to quit the team? That couldn’t be right, he was Norman’s boy, how would he justify that to him? He wouldn’t tell him about them, would he? Tony figured that if he had told Norman anything, he would have heard about it by then, but everything seemed normal and in order, other than Peter’s absence from the lab.

“He went back to being Mr. Osborn’s intern?” He asked just to clarify, maybe he could go talk to him after he was done in the lab for the day.

“No, he quit Oscorps.” She looked at him like he was asking dumb questions, like everyone should know that piece of information.

Tony did not expect that. His heart raced a little when he heard those words, for some reason. He thought he should be relieved, one less thing to worry about. With Peter gone, he wouldn’t need to worry about apologizing or Norman finding out about them. He didn’t need to worry about things getting weird in the lab or Peter trying to use it against him or something. But he wasn’t relieved. He was – what was he feeling? Whenever he thought about the possibility of not seeing Peter ever again, his heart clenched.

The engineer couldn’t understand what was going on inside him, he just needed to talk to Peter, fucking apologize, get him back on the team, make sure that they would still see each other every month, that they would still talk, and laugh together, and share a workbench so small their hips touched every now and again.  

Which was why Tony found himself waiting at the main entrance of Columbia's Morningside Heights campus on Wednesday evening, probably looking suspicious as hell as he swept the crowd, looking for a familiar face. It was a long shot, but he new Peter had classes every afternoon and he knew at what time he was done most days. He guessed the young man would take a train at the subway station on 116th Street, so there he was, looking and waiting.

After almost two hours and no luck, Tony was ready to give up and leave when he saw him walking out, arms full of text books, a heavy looking backpack hanging from one shoulder. He was wearing reading glasses, baggy, ripped jeans, and a graphic t-shirt underneath an oversized gray hoodie and Tony realized he had never seen him like that, he was always well dressed at work and he only ever saw him in other two occasions: his dinner with Norman and at the gala.

Tony thought he looked even more beautiful like that, stripped off of all the fancy things that made him look like an expensive doll. He looked at ease and comfortable and Tony felt a weird desire to hold him. Fucking hold him. Not rip off his clothes and fuck him – well, that too – but to take him into his arms, pull him close and breathe into his his wild curls.

“Hey, Peter,” Tony called out loud enough for him to hear and as soon as his eyes made contact with the older man’s, his face turned red and his eyes widened before he dropped his gaze to the ground, picking up the pace to walk away from Tony. “Hey, hold on, kid, c’mon, I’m talking to you.” The engineer quickly followed, grabbing him by the arm and making him turn around.

“What do you want, what are you doing here?” He asked impatiently, looking around as if afraid to make a scene, there were a lot of people walking in and out of campus at that time.

“You quit Oscorps,” the older man stated, dumbly, and Peter stared at him as if he wanted to say just that. He waited to see if Tony would say anything more and he really meant to, but nothing else came out of his stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and?” He prompted, holding his books close to his chest defensively, getting ready for a fight, but Tony just shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“And now I don’t have any engineers on my team,” he offered, as kind of a joke, he thought, but again, Peter wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Tony held him back again. “What the hell, don’t touch me!”

“Ok, sorry, I’m sorry.” He let go of his arm and raised both of his hands in a peace offering. “I’m trying to apologize here, I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly,” Peter snarked, and Tony nodded.

“Right. Ok. I deserve that. Look, let me just –“ He wracked his brain for something to say, he really should have thought it through. The thing was, he thought Peter would be a little more… Compliant. He didn’t expect him to still be that pissed off after almost two weeks. “Let me treat you to dinner, how about that? So we can clear the air?”

“No, thanks,” Peter answered quickly and started to walk away again, heading to the subway station. Since grabbing him and trying to stop him didn’t seem like a good idea, Tony started walking alongside him.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so stubborn, I’m just trying to apologize here,” he insisted, attracting Peter’s impatient gaze, as he still tried to balance all the books in his arms.

“You’re forgiven, is that what you wanna hear?” He snapped, and Tony was taken aback by the anger and hurt in his eyes. “There you go. You’re absolved! Goodbye now.” Again, he tried to leave the older man behind, but Tony didn’t let him.

“Hey, kid, don’t be so difficult, I just--”

“Tony!” Weirdly enough, after everything they’d done, that was the first time the younger man called him by his first name and even if the situation was less than ideal, it still sent a shiver down his spine. The boy stopped walking to look at him dead in the eye. “You called me a whore, now you’re asking me to dinner! What am I supposed to think here? I’m not for sale, I’m sorry if I misled you, go bother someone else.”

“Peter, I’m sincerely, honest to God, just trying to apologize here. I know I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, nobody does, I’m sorry, I was way out of line. I just wanna take you to dinner because I think you’re a good kid, I know you enjoyed working with me and you looked up to me somehow, so I just wanna make it up to you, ok? I promise, nothing else. I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I’m a good guy, I’m just kind of an asshole sometimes.” Tony tried to convey all his honesty through his eyes, which made Peter deflate a little bit. The young man stared at him for a few seconds with a frown on his forehead, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re very annoying,” he said, matter-of-factly, and the older man nodded.  

“I’m known to be quite annoying, yeah,” he admitted, putting on his best pleading face, puppy eyes and all. “Let me make it up to you,” he insisted, and Peter rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

“Fine, dinner. Not tonight, though, I have work.” Tony cheered on the inside – and a little on the outside – but the younger man kept a straight face.

“Whenever you’re free.” Peter thought for a second and it almost seemed like he was regretting it already.

“Tomorrow, then. You can pick me up here. And I’ll choose the restaurant.” He stuck up his nose, defiantly, and Tony just spread his arms in surrender.

“Fair enough.”

So Tony decided to be a perfect gentleman, he put on a nice suit, he bought some flowers and took the gold “I’m sorry I was a jerk” bracelet with him when he went to pick Peter up. He was sure he would pick the most expensive restaurant in New York as payback and maybe he would order the most expensive things on the menu and, yeah, Tony knew he was really stupid if he were to comply, but, apparently, he wasn’t as smart as he once thought. And apparently he wasn’t immune to cute boys who knew how to play their cards right. So, yeah, maybe he fell right into Peter’s web in the end and maybe he wasn’t too upset about it. He could afford to spend a few dollars on him, have a good meal, smart conversations, and then move on. Because that’s what it was, right? Just him needing closure, if nothing else.

Except, when he parked his car, Peter was standing on the sidewalk in plain blue jeans and a cheap gray sweater and he looked thoroughly amused by Tony’s outfit when he got out of the car to get the door for him. He offered him the flowers and the boy was even more amused, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he read the “I’m sorry I was a jerk” card. Tony decided not to give him the bracelet after all, didn’t seem like a good idea by the looks of it.

“Where do you think we’re going?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, stopping in front of Tony before he got in the car.

“I was thinking a three-star Michellin restaurant?” The older man frowned and the boy snorted, apparently very amused.

“Yeah, and how in the hell would I afford to eat there, Mr. Stark?” He cocked his head to the side with feigned curiosity and Tony frowned.

“Afford? What – no, I’m buying! This is an ‘I’m sorry’ dinner. Besides, I invited you, it’s only polite.” He argued, but the boy quickly shook his head.

“You’ve apologized enough.” He gestured to the flowers. “Besides, I’m sorry, but I’m a little skeptical about gratuitous generosity at the moment, so we’re just gonna get some cheap pizza if that’s ok with you.” He shrugged, pointing in the general direction of the pizza place he was probably planning to go.

“What? Peter, come on. At least –“

“I only agreed to come if you let me choose the restaurant, so it’s either this or I’m heading back home.” He threatened to turn away and Tony jumped to stop him.

“No, no, sorry, you’re right. It’s your pick.” He opened the door to the passenger seat before Peter could change his mind and leave.

They got inside the car and Tony followed the young man’s instructions to the pizza joint, it wasn’t far from campus and was mostly empty when they got there. It was really not the sort of place that Tony went to anymore, but he couldn’t deny that was exactly the kind of restaurant he could afford when he was 19 at MIT. He was still a little confused by Peter’s choice of restaurant, not really sure if it was all a game, a plot to get back at him, but he seemed honest when he said he wanted to pay for his half.

“Maybe lose the jacket? And the tie?” He suggested with an amused smile from beside him when they parked the car and Tony chuckled slightly, doing just that and undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves as well. “Much better.”

When they got inside the restaurant, Peter seemed to know the waiters, they sat at a table in the far back and ordered their drinks. They didn’t even have wine. A pizza place that didn’t serve wine, what even was that madness.

“So, you come here a lot? Everyone seems to know you around here.” Tony tried to start some amicable conversation and, surprisingly, Peter was receptive.

“I used to work here, actually. Before Oscorps.” He smiled fondly as he looked around, like he had some good memories there.

“Oh, cool.” Again, he was surprised by the boy’s story, Tony always assumed that he had an easy life. “Did I – was it because of me? The reason you quit?” He asked with a wince and Peter raised a brow, amused.

“Don’t be so self-important, it had nothing to do with you,” he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Tony thought maybe he wasn’t that mad anymore. He sure seemed a lot calmer than the last time they met. “You’re a jerk, but I’ve dealt with worse.” Tony snorted, he couldn’t even be mad, Peter was just stating facts. He was a little curious to know what led him to quit his job, if it wasn’t Tony, and suddenly remembered how upset he was when they left the party. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask, though, they were just getting back on good terms.

“So, what are you doing now that you quit Oscorps?” Tony cocked his head to the side and the boy shrugged, playing with his paper napkin.

“Back to waiting tables and making coffee.” He smiled, he didn’t seem upset by the turn of events, which was… unexpected? It was just so odd. Tony had this idea that Peter liked to live that expensive lifestyle he had with Osborn, wasn’t that the whole point of being with him? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Peter chuckled, furrowing his brow. “What?”

“Nothing, I just –” He shook his head and gave up in the middle of the sentence.

“What, you thought I’d find another rich dude or something?” He creased his brow, looking genuinely confused, not mad. “Wait, do you actually think I’m an escort?” He asked as an afterthought, and Tony could deny it, but he didn’t think he could make it believable anyway.

“Not exactly, but – something like that, yeah,” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time, and braced himself for the explosion, but Peter just showed him a sad little smile.

“You thought I was with him for his money,” he stated and Tony winced, because when Peter said it out loud, when those words came out of his mouth, they sounded so wrong. Like they could never be true. “It’s okay, I guess he thought that, too, and so did everyone else. My coworkers, the press, even some of my friends,” he scoffed, folding his napkin in half just to have something to do with his hands. “I guess I’m just a stupid kid who watched way too many Disney princess movies growing up. I blame my aunt, honestly.” He tried to joke and Tony shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have judged you, it wasn’t my place. I just thought it was so odd for a guy like you to be with a guy like him.” Such a beautiful, brilliant, young man like you deserved so much better than him, was what Toy didn’t dare to say.

“I loved him,” he said and it shouldn’t have stung, it shouldn’t have made Tony’s stomach twist and turn, and his heart clench, but it did. It fucking did. “Or I thought I did. Turns out I got it all wrong. I thought we were going somewhere, but he wasn’t really serious about me, which became very clear when he decided not to take me to the gala, so.” He blushed slightly and dropped his eyes to the table, still folding the napkin until it was impossible to keep folding.

“Yeah, but you still came. Why?” Tony insisted, because he really wanted to figure him out, he needed to, because Peter wasn’t who he thought he was, he wasn’t that person Tony was so quick to judge and he needed to know who he was, after all. Because – he just needed to.

“I guess I – I just thought... He would regret it or something, you know. Once he saw me.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh, rubbing a hand across his forehead as if trying to physically erase something from his mind. “Like… A stupid rom-com or something, you know. Like, the happy ending scene. Whatever. It’s stupid.” He ran a hand through his hair, blushing even harder. “Again, I blame my aunt, she was the one who made me watch all these stupid movies.”

Tony wanted to say it wasn’t his fault that everybody else was fucked up and couldn’t see what an amazing person he was, but the waiter chose that moment to interrupt them with their food, which was good, because Peter perked up and actually looked excited, rubbing his hands together and looking at Tony expectantly.

“Try it, tell me if it’s not the best pizza you’ve ever had in your life.” Tony smiled at his excitement and grabbed a piece of the cheap pizza. As expected, it tasted like garbage, but he wouldn’t tell Peter that, obviously.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not. But I’m forty-five and I’ve been to Italy, so don’t look so bummed.” Peter deflated slightly, grabbing a piece of his own and taking a huge bite out of it, like it was the best meal ever.  

“Fine then, the best pizza in New York?” He compromised and Tony was a hundred percent sure it was most definitely not the best pizza in New York, but –

“I’ll give you that.” He conceded and Peter beamed.

“I’ll take it.”

They fell into an easy conversation about engineering and about Peter’s expectations for the future, which ended up turning into a conversation about what Tony did after college. The older man told him about all the steps he took to get where he was, working for other companies, having his ideas stolen, not getting credit for his work, quitting multiple jobs, almost going bankrupt trying to get Stark Industries off the ground and then finally being in a comfortable place in his professional life at 45 – better late than never.

“I think it’s amazing how you managed to turn your life around, you know. It’s really inspiring.” Peter seemed truly moved by Tony’s story, and the older man knew it was quite impressive, but he just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, boo-hoo, but now that you know my sob story, you have to tell me yours.” He took another bite of the terrible pizza and decided that sometime after the third slice, it became almost edible. Key-word: almost.

“Well, there’s not much to say and it’s definitely not as interesting or as successful as yours, but let’s see. My parents died when I was really young, I think I was around four – I’m ashamed to say I don’t really remember them. I still have their pictures, but I just – you know.” Peter shrugged and, yeah, Tony knew. After his mom died, he couldn’t look at pictures of her for years; at the same time that he wanted to remember her, he kind of wanted to forget. “I was raised by my aunt May and uncle Ben, but he was killed in a mugging when I was ten. Fuck, my life story is such a downer, are you sure you wanna hear it?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and Tony smiled softly.

“As long as you wanna tell it, kid.” Peter took a deep breath, as if considering if he actually wanted to tell that story, but finally seemed to decide to go on.

“So, my aunt May was a nurse, she struggled to make ends meet, but she was just – amazing, you know? She was like a mother to me, she never left me wanting for anything, specially when it came to my education, which was how I was able to get into college so early. Anyway, she passed away almost two years ago from a stomach cancer. So… It’s just me now. I’m the last Parker standing.” He smiled sadly, dropping his gaze to stare at the slice of uneaten pizza in his plate.

“Fuck, that’s rough, kid. But hey, if it’s any consolation, I’m also the last Stark standing. Maybe we should start a club or something,” he joked to try to lighten up the mood and the young man giggled, looking back at him with a smile.

“Like, the Parker-Stark Lonely Orphans Club?” He asked cheekily and Tony laughed. “Anyway, a year ago I got into Oscorps’s internship program, which was a dream come true, but then I screwed it up by sleeping with the boss, because I’m an idiot. The end.” He snorted and, again, Tony was a little surprised to learn that Peter got the internship before he met Norman, but at that point, it wasn’t much of a shock, he should have seen it coming.

“So, can I ask what happened? Between you and Norman? What made you quit?” Tony asked carefully. As the night went on, he felt like he and Peter were getting more comfortable with each other, more comfortable than they could ever be all those months before, when Tony made such an effort to despise him.

“Ugh, it’s… Well, it’s embarrassing.” It was barely a whisper. Peter’s cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet Tony gaze.

“It’s okay, you don't have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He reassured him, feeling confident enough to place a hand on top of his on the table. Peter stared at them for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

“It’s… Something he did at the party. He kept pushing me to this guy, you know. Some business partner or whatever. And I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to accomplish, but then I went to the bathroom and this guy followed me there and he – he tried – to kiss me. And to touch me.” He blushed, gaze fixed on the table between them once again. Tony tightened his grip on his hand. “When I pushed him away he said something about Norman not knowing how to teach his whores good manners. When I tried to talk to Norman – he said I owed him.” He frowned, lifting his eyes to look at him. “For all the expensive gifts, and nice restaurants, and everything he did for me. He said it was the least I could do.” He scoffed, but his cheeks were pink, like maybe some part of him believed that – believed that while he thought he was dating someone he loved, he was actually whoring himself out to him.

“That’s why you were so upset at the party,” he whispered, realizing what a massive jerk he’d been after that. The kid must have been feeling like shit that day. Used and expendable and lost. And then Tony treated him like a fucking cheap hooker.  “Peter… I’m so sorry for that night, I didn’t –“

“It’s okay, I’m fine now. Don’t get me wrong, it was a total dick move, but I already knew you were kind of a dick, so no alarms, no surprises.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but nothing he could say could ever absolve Tony of what he’d done, of the harm he’d caused him that night. Fuck, if he was Peter, he would never have talked to him again, let alone agreed to dinner. His behavior the previous night suddenly made perfect sense. “I quit the next day, put his stupid gifts in a box and sent it to the tower, he can choke on them for all that I care.” He shrugged, trying to appear non-nonchalant, but Tony knew the whole thing must still fucking hurt, it had only been two weeks.

“I sincerely hope he does,” Tony offered and Peter laughed out loud, throwing his head back in delight.

When they walked to the car at the end of the night, Tony could feel that something had changed between them. He felt like all that time he knew Peter he had been missing a huge chunk of information, which made all the difference in the world. He could see Peter now, the real him. The ride to his place was taken in comfortable silence and when Tony parked his car, neither of them moved. The older man turned towards the younger one and licked his lips. He knew the answer to the question he was gonna ask, he knew he deserved it, but still –  

“Can I get you number?” It wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to apologize, show the kid a good time as a way of making it up to him for the terrible things he said and move on. Go back to work, go back to his life, but now – now he was stuck. Looking at Peter and seeing a whole new person. Someone he wanted to get to know more, but knew he didn’t deserve.

“Oh, I don’t know, do you think you can afford it?” Peter teased, and Tony actually blushed, embarrassed to remember how much of a dick he’d been.

“Ugh, I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face, only to hear Peter’s delighted chuckle.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. But I don’t think It’s a good idea, Tony.” He bit his lower lip and Tony nodded to himself, because, yeah, he knew it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Because Peter deserved so much better than him. “But this was nice. Thank you for caring enough to apologize.”

“It was the least I could do.” He gave him a small smile and was taken by surprised when the young man unceremoniously leaned in and kissed him. Tony didn’t waste any time burying his hand in his hair, pulling him impossibly close as their lips brushed softly and tongues met in a sweet embrace. The young man pulled away after just a few seconds, though, and Tony didn’t even have the courage to open his eyes and acknowledge it was over. “Are you sure this isn’t a good idea? Because it sure tastes like a great fucking idea. I would know, I have great ideas all the time, ask anyone.” Tony whispered and Peter laughed, his face was still so close the older man could feel his breath on his lips.

“Goodbye, Tony. Good luck with your company,” he smiled, as he opened to door to get out of the car.

“I’ll miss you on my team.” Which was to say, I’ll miss you. Plain and simple.

“I’m sure you’ll find a replacement in no time.” I won’t, I don’t want to. I want you. “Gotta go now, I have work in the morning. Bye!” He got out and closed the door behind him, waving one last time before he walked away.

“Goodbye, Peter,” he whispered to the empty car, hands clutching the steering-wheel as he watched the boy disappear into the building.

--*--

Working at Oscorps was not the same without Peter. First, because he was actually a very good intern who helped a lot with every single task Tony assigned him. Second, because even though he hadn’t noticed it before, he always looked forward to talking to him. To learning those tiny little pieces of information the boy let escape through his lips once in a while, only to blush profusely and apologize seconds later.

Still, he kept going. Norman never bothered him, which was nice, and as the remaining months passed, Tony’s name became more and more recognizable, he closed so many deals over the course of that year, he was able to more than double his team and the office and lab they used to work got way too small for them. He started looking for some other place to go and the more he thought about it, more sense it made to move SI headquarters to California. Most of his partners were there and he would also be closer to his suppliers and many other business opportunities.

So after talking to Pepper, Nat, Rhodey, Happy and Bruce – “the original six”, as they liked to call themselves, including Tony –, he decided to move right after his contract with Oscorps was done in December. Those last few months were crazy and got crazier when B.A.R.F. was finally announced to the public. Both the product and the technology behind it sent Stark Industries to a whole other level, their stocks skyrocketed and Tony literately became the richest man in New York overnight, even richer than Norman – and that was saying something.

Which was why, when December rolled around and Osborn invited him to dinner to discuss the possibility of renewing the contract and he showed up with some supermodel hanging off his arm, he couldn’t help but think of the first time he was in that same situation. He remembered how nervous he was before the dinner, how excited he felt when they closed the deal and how gorgeous Peter looked that night. But he remembered, specially, what Osborn did to the younger man months after that. How he’d treated him, what he’d said to him.

“So, what do you say, Stark? Wanna be partners for five more years?” Osborn’s smile was kind of creepy, he hadn’t noticed it before. He offered him a hand and Tony stared at it for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. It was great fucking deal, way better than the one he had before, but –

“You know what, Norman?” He smiled to himself and took a deep breath, wishing he was wearing his smart glasses so he could record his reaction. “Fuck you.” He beamed, standing up from his chair, admiring the expression of shock and horror on the older man’s face. He buttoned his suit jacket and, still smiling like a madman, left the restaurant like he owned the place – which he could, if he wanted.

On his last night in New York, he decided to look for Peter. He didn’t want to pressure him or anything, but they hadn’t seen each other in almost six months, so maybe something might have changed for him. Tony still couldn’t get him out of his head, each day that passed he wished he’d done things differently, so fucking differently.

He wished he’d been nicer, from day one. He wished he had lived up to his expectations, his hero worship. He wished he could have been a decent human being, a shoulder to cry on that night he was so vulnerable and broken. He wished he could have wooed him and gotten him to fall in love with him, the way he’d fallen for him.

He wanted a second chance, he really did, but when he knocked on the door of the apartment the boy used to live, the place where Tony had said goodbye to him all those months ago, some stoned college kid answered the door. When he asked about Peter, the boy just shrugged.

“He moved away a while ago, dude. Got a job somewhere or something.”

So that was it. Tony didn’t have his number and Peter wasn’t on social media – at least Jarvis couldn’t find him, and he sure as hell looked. So he gathered the last of his stuff and left New York for good, mind wandering to those few moments he’d spent with Peter, thinking how different things could have been if he hadn’t been so quick to judge.

No point crying over spilled milk.

Stark Industries flourished in L.A. All of Tony’s crazy, genius ideas were funded, so he finally finished his arc reactor project – something he’d started as a teen, but didn’t have the resources to continue – and started a line of electronics – computers, cellphones, tablets, all the good stuff. After the first couple of months, he bought a mansion in Malibu, just because he could, and finally felt like his life was heading in the right direction.

Still, it felt like there was a Peter-shaped whole in it, which was insane, they’d only known each other for a little over five months, it made no sense how much he missed him, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and still there were nights he could fucking smell Peter’s scent on his sheets – sheets he’d never even laid on. Could feel his soft skin under his fingertips as he hugged his pillow close to his chest, the way he wished he’d held him that night when he stormed off, humiliated and hurt. Those nights he couldn’t sleep, could only stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out time travel, just so he could go back and fix things.

Once he was settled in California, he was invited to give lectures in universities all over the country. MIT was first, then NYU, Stanford, Yale, UCLA and, finally, Caltech in late November. His lectures were usually about the arc reactor, clean energy was in fashion, everybody was talking about it, and the fact that he figured out cold nuclear fusion was still a very hot topic.  

It was still early in the evening when he finished his lecture at Caltech, a few students stayed behind to ask him questions or just talk for a bit, Tony had become sort of a celebrity for nerds, and he didn’t mind staying a little late talking to those starry-eyed kids, so it was already dark out when he was done. When he thought he was alone, he started gathering his things, thinking of somewhere he could eat in Pasadena before he headed back to Malibu, when he heard it. That sweet, unmistakable voice.

“That was a hell of a lecture.” Tony turned around slowly, almost afraid to be wrong, but there was no way he’d be. Peter was there, staring back at him, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight blush on his cheeks. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

“You ran away from me, kid.” He breathed out, letting his hands fall to his sides, even though they itched to touch, his legs were shaking with desire to run to the younger man, but he stood still, afraid that if he moved, the spell would be broken and he would realize that Peter was just an illusion.

“That’s a big ego you got there if you think I’d make such a dramatic life change just for you, old man.” He stepped into the room slowly, until he was standing right in front of Tony, close enough to touch, but neither of them did. “I’m getting my Masters here. I heard you were coming for a lecture.”

“So you came by to say hi?” Tony cocked his head to the side and Peter chuckled, nodding.

“Yes. Hi.” He perched himself on the desk Tony was using during his lecture and it was the older man’s turn to move to stand in front of him.

“Hi.” He smiled, stepping closer, paying attention to see if the young man was in any way uncomfortable by his actions, but he didn’t even flinch.

“So, I heard you ditched Norman.” He crossed his arms over his chest again, a small smile on his lips.

“I believe my exact words were ‘fuck you’, actually.” That made Peter laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his long throat. “I missed you kid.”

“Couldn’t find an intern to make you coffee and fawn over you while you were at Oscorps?” He jabbed a finger in his chest and Tony caught it in his hand.

“Couldn’t find you. Anywhere. And I looked.” He confessed, not letting go of his hand, not looking away from his eyes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you and all the things I didn’t say.”

“Such as?” Peter asked coyly, biting his lower lip as he looked at Tony from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll miss you. Don’t go. Give me a chance. I’ll make this work. I’m in love with you. Things like that, you know.” He didn’t care that he was putting his heart on the line, he couldn’t choke on those words anymore, and if that was the last chance he ever got to say them, at least he could sleep peacefully at night. Peter blushed deeply, lips parted in shock, but then his face stretched in a slow, lazy smile, eyes focused on Tony’s.

“Can I buy you coffee?” He asked quietly, blinking slowly, and the older man shrugged, pretending to consider it.

“Depends. Can I buy you dinner? And don’t you dare ask if I can afford it.” He closed the distance between them as Peter laughed out loud, head thrown back in delight.

“I was just gonna say yes,” he promised, as he placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders, allowing him to come stand in between his legs. “Which is something I regretted not saying.” He confessed. “So, coffee first?”

“Yeah, coffee first.” Tony leaned down to kiss his lips, and they tasted so familiar, so right, and he knew it was crazy, because they shouldn’t, they were together for such a short time and Tony wasn’t a fucking teenager, he was a grown man, and he didn’t know how in the fuck he fell in love so hard and so fast, but he did. “It’s so good to see you.” He stole yet another kiss from him and felt the younger man’s lips stretching in a smile under his. Suddenly, he was reminded of a conversation they’d had over a year earlier. “So, do you think this is the happy ending scene in our movie or what?” He asked a beaming Peter, who pretended to examine his face carefully, before answering with a grin.

“I guess we’ll see.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Mimicry.”

Trying to get back into more stories about how weird humans are in general. It is very difficult though, since I am short on ideas lol. Also, prepare for some world building! :) The rundi home planet was fun to design.

I hope you like it anyway. 

The engines of the GA transport ship kicked up a storm of blue dust as it descended towards the sandy desert plateau. Little creatures fled in earnest from the buffeting gusts of wind and the loud rumbling of the engines fleeing out into the dessert on many legs and stumpy wings. Twisted, yellow-barked bulb trees cracked and bent under the powerful gusts of wind swaying gently back and forth as the billowing blue dust cloud came to overtake them.

The GA shuttle landed lightly on the surface of the planet, three-pronged body burying it’s struts deep into the desert planet’s sandy skin. Dirt continued to swirl up and around the shuttle, until the engines were cut, and the power was stalled.

With a low whirring grumble, the ship whined into dormancy allowing the dust to settle and leaving nothing but the low mournful whistle of wind in the desert.

The shuttle door opened, and the Rundi scientists jogged out onto their home planet’s dusty surface, their feet padding softly against the sand. The dark greens and brown of their skin, while not exactly camouflage against the blue sand did help them to blend into some of the lower lying rock-shrubs on the horizon.

The air in the desert was bone dry and dusty blue. The horizon was a haze of wind blown sand against a green/yellow sky. 

The slow expansion of the rundi sun had turned their once, yellow star, red. It had been like that for many years now, and not even their most ancient texts remembered the days when the sky was blue.

Boots clattered on the ramp down onto the sand, and the human placed his hands on his hips wide eyes staring out at the strange alien planet’s surface.

“Everything alright, Jim.”

The human turned coming face to face with the GA ship’s pilot. He grinned, “Couldn’t be better.” Together the two of them walked down the ramp and onto a light dusting of blue sand. The human reached down scooping up a cup of the strange and beautiful sand, letting it trickle through his fingers.

“Thank you, commander, for offering to help.” he turned to look at the Rundi, “And thank you immeasurably for giving me this opportunity to help you. I never would have thought…. I mean I am a wildlife expert, but alien wildlife…. That's an entirely different story.”

The rundi bowed their heads as was their manor, though they weren’t entirely sure what the human had said. He had a strange accent that threw off cheaper translation models. While many of the older models COULD understand the multitude of human languages, deviations in accents was still nuanced and difficult to pick up for even the most expensive piece of equipment.

He turned to look at the commander, “Do you know what makes the sand blue. It is the most fascinating thing I think I have ever seen.” 

The commander picked up a handful of dirt and let it trail through his fingers, “I think it has to do with the extreme presence of copper in the soil, oxidized copper likes to turn blue, and with bacteria in the soil producing ammonia, i think you can get even darker shades than this.”

The human lifted his head smelling at the air, “it’s very dry, obviously this is a desert planet, or at least a dessert on a planet.” 

“A dessert planet.” The commander said, motioning to the group of rundi who stood out in the sand examining the plants for signs of wildlife, “Rundi are actually allergic to water, which is why they were making us wear gloves and masks.”

“Allergic to water? How do they survive then?”

“They can get moisture in other forms, I guess. Water being as scarce as it is on this planet, at least on the surface. There are vast underworld reservoirs and rivers, which feed the plants you see here. Their roots are extremely deep, deeper than any earth plant. Eating those plants provides the Rundi with everything they need.” He motioned onward, “The thoraxes act as a sort of fat deposit so they can go for months at a time without eating.”

“That’s quite amazing, Commander. You know about as much about other sentient species as I do about our more animal friends.”

The commander smiled the skin wrinkling up around his one remaining eye, “I have had plenty of time spent with them.”

“Ill bet.” All in one moment, he clapped his hands together, forcing the attention of the Rundi who turned to look at the strange human, in his boots, shorts, and shirt, probably the most under-dressed human they had ever seen.

“First things is first.” he turned around to look at another group of similarly dressed humans emerging from the inside of the shuttle, “We are here to catch, sedate, and transport the Strangit. We want to make sure that it stays as relaxed and as stress free as possible, which is why we will bate it, and then dart it from a distance.”

“How do we know our sedation will work?” one of the humans asked, raising a hand.

“We have done some non-invasive testing with the DNA sequences of these creatures and found that their structure is similar enough to accept the drug in the same way a Rino or a hippo might, so hopefully we won’t be proven wrong Also, if you find any other creatures during our tour, just use the little boxes on your hips to catch them, and secure them. We want to relocate as many of these critters as possible, but we want to do it in the nicest way we can.”

He turned to look at the Commander who stood to the side of the group, “Do you think you can help us out.”

The commander nodded, “Always willing to help. Just tell me what I need to do.”

He clapped his hands together. “Excellent, lets get to work.”

-

The following Rundi scientists were a little more than fascinated by the pack of humans, and especially their leader as they began a slow movement up through the sand sweeping back and forth for signs of the Strangit, last spotted in this area. They had heard that some humans were capable of tracking their prey over long distances by using nothing more than small changes left in the land by their prey, footprints, or clumps of hair, sometimes the very formation of the land itself.

Their feet were almost silent on the sand, and when they communicated, they did it in a low rumble. Sometimes, they didn’t even speak at all, simple motioning at each other, communicating silently over long distances. The lead human kept his eyes to the ground crouched low legs always moving zig-zagging from rock to rock until at one moment he stopped, and called the others in with a sharp piercing blast.

He had no equipment with which to make that sound, though humans were known for their ability.

“See these, right here. Looks like tracks. I’ll wager to say it passed by here not too long ago.” He motioned upwards at the blowing sand. And with the rate at which this sand is blowing, I would reduce the time even more than before. We should move silently from here.” The rundi held back, watching as the humans condensed down their group slowly moving around each other their eyes forward, their bodies focused on their hunting. The main human spent most of his time in a low crouch, sometimes dropping down to all fours so he could better see the dirt and the ground underneath.

None of the rundi could see what he was looking for, but he seemed sure they were close.

It was just then that a strange warbling chatter echoed up form the other side of a short sand dune.

The humans went very still, and the forward human held his finger to his lips motioning the other into position.

The human with the dart gun quietly padded up the side of the hill concealing himself against the bowl of a rock, cozied inside a divot created by the sand and the wind.

With a wave of his hand, the human motioned the others closer, including the Commander, who knelt in the soft sandy circle about him.

The rundi tried to stay quiet as they approached, ready to hear the plan.

“That first call.” he whispered, “Was the male, its a mating call, and the second one was a more distant female. Now the females tend to travel in herds, while the males are generally loners, so if we mimic, the sound of the female, and make it think that there is a larger group of us, we might be able to drawn him over and into our line of sight, without risking it getting startled or agitated.

The chattering sound started up again, receiving a response not a moment later.

He motioned the other humans away, who scurried off to hide themselves, creating a spot for ambush. 

Watching from a distance, it was rather unnerving, the way the humans seemed to know inherently how to behave, how to spread out, and how to hide themselves, creating an open break in their circular line for the creature to come.

It was even worse when the sounds came.

The lead human, in line of sight to the Rundi, cupped his hands around his mouth and began the warbling call of a female strangit. Off in the distance a male call answered, following that the other humans began to mimic the sound of the first. A human to their right added in soe of the related huffing noises, their chest raising and falling in shorts bursts.

They did whatever they could to create the noise they were hearing, using their hands, adjusting their tongues and tilting their heads back.

It was terrifying.

A few of the Rundi felt shivers run up their backs as they imagined their ancestors traveling in large groups and hearing a cry for help, running to hear that cry and being pounced upon by a group of humans mimicking their own voices.

Sand shuffled off on the other side of the hill.

Footsteps thudded against stone , and the Strangit crested the horizon, its massive back spikes jutting almost three feet up into the air. Its body was stocky with muscle, its feet were large, round and flat, and from a distance it was at least the same height as a tall Drev, though with much more mass.

A single giant tusk jutted out from the bottom of it’s chin nearly scraping the ground as it walked. 

As a male of the species, instead of being blue to match the sand, Like a female, they were a sort of ruddy yellow color with spots of green dappling it’s back.

When it moved, the sun reflected off those spots of green.

The creature lifted it’s head looking around for the female’s it was sure it had heard.

One of the humans made one last call, and the great beast turned to face the sound, seeming almost confused when it saw nothing.

The Rundi watched as the armed human gently slid into place on his side, using the sandy hill to steady his weapon.

There was a low pop, and the beast jumped bellowing at the sky before turning around and running in the opposite direction.

“We got him!” Someone yelled, and together the humans broke from their line of cover and went racing after the creature.

Like a pack of wolves they followed the creature at a distance as it galloped through the open sand leaving a  trail of dust behind it. The human’s feet kicked up dust, and they pulled to a slow stop as the creature slowed, wobbled and then tipped onto its side resting heavily in the sand. The rundi caught up as the humans were speaking with each other.

“Just give it a few minutes.”

While they waited the Rundi looked to the humans with concern, “Is it common…. For humans to mimic their prey.”

The humans laughed, “Not really, we record things instead. Most animals on our planet can tell the difference. However, we are generally pretty good at somewhat reproducing most noises.”

“Go on.” They asked 

Intrigued.

While the other humans walked off to inspect their prey, a few remained behind and seemed to be having fun demonstrating the different calls animals on their planet make.

One of the sounds a long, drawn out howl sent shivers up the Rundi’s backs. 

“You know, wolves are fun to mimic, but the one sound I think it might be impossible to make is a roar.” 

“I mean yes, but have you ever tried to make an Elk sound.”

“Oh, I can do an elk.”

“No way, lets see it.” 

What followed was a competition based on who could make the strangest animal noise. The elk was pretty terrifying and screeching repeating call that rose in octave until it was no more than a piercing note on the air repeated multiple times.

“Ok, ok, that is pretty.”

“Is it acceptable to use props.”

“Why.”

“Because if it is, I can accurately mimic a two strike dirt bike.” 

There was laughing from the other humans, “Ah yes, I forgot about that breed.”

“I have an uncle who owns a dirk bike farm.”

It took a moment for the rundi to realize that the humans were simply joking. As it would soon come to light, humans could also mimic the sound of non-organic objects.

Looking back and fourth at each other, they collectively decided it would be best if this was never mentioned to the humans.

IT seemed as if they had not evolved to hunt like this.

But if they knew.

If they knew the power of their own voices, the rest of the galaxy might be in serious danger.

Looking over at the Strangit, the Rundi shivered at the thought of hearing a familiar call in the distance just to show up, and be met with the sharp glistening teeth of a hungry, smiling human.

Poor creature. 

[softyhyunjin]

ldr ⊵ bang chan

Description: Distance definitely makes the heart grow fonder.

இ genre: friends to lovers, ldr, college au, angst?, def fluff             

இ pairing: chan x reader                                                                              

இ word count: 12.5k

warnings?: there’s alc, and a pretty mf hot chan

a/n: @changbeanie it’s been a while ´･ᴗ･` wow, just wow 

↫ i ↬

“Chan, I need to spill the tea!”

He came to a halt, setting aside his unopened One Piece mystery figures. When he looked into the camera lens, his brows knit together in a little frown. 

“No Y/N, you can’t spill the tea! The tea is hot, and if you spill it, you are gonna get burned,” Chan playfully scolded you and laughed shortly after. 

“I’m serious Chan,” you whined, covering your face to hide your warm cheeks. Chan laughed even more. You didn’t know whether he was laughing at you or his joke. Maybe it was both. 

He calmed down and leaned back into his gaming chair. Sighing in content, he looked at you from his monitor, smiling softly. “Go ahead, tell me,” Chan said. 

“Can I really?” You removed your hands from your face and rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, now go!” He chuckled. 

“I caught Changbin on a date with someone!” 

Chan faked a gasp, “Ahhh, no way.”

“Oh, so you knew?”

“Yes, but I’d like you to finish spilling the tea.”

“That’s all I wanted to spill,” you scoffed. Of course, Chan would know about Changbin’s love life, he was close to all his friends after all. Now, your reasoning for calling him went down the drain. Useless. 

Chan shrugged, “He already told me his plan to confess to his crush a while back, so I’m not surprised. Ruby, I think that’s her name? Yeah.” 

“Okay, goodnight then. I’ll call you later this week if I can,” you sighed in defeat, swiping your mouse pad to hang up. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N, you didn’t even let me finish opening the package you sent me. Don’t you want to see who I got?” His eyes lit up at his unopened One Piece figures. 

“Not really, it cost me a fortune to ship it out to you,” you spun around in your chair, faking disinterest to the birthday boy, but in reality, you wanted to stretch the call as long as you could. You really missed him. 

Chan had been studying abroad in Berlin for two months. You remember him speaking to you about it and listing his options in order: Berlin, Dublin, and Paris. When you asked why he placed Berlin as his first choice, he said its nightlife attracted him the most, which isn’t surprising, considering the night owl he is. And bonus, it was cheaper than his other options. 

“Should I call Woojin to watch me unbox instead, then?” He cocked his brow. 

“Do you really want him to watch you unbox it?” You pouted.

“Noo, I want you to watch me. But… I guess you don’t wanna,” Bang Chan shrugged.

“Ugh, you already know I do.”

“Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?” He teased further, enjoying his ability to easily earn a reaction from you. 

“Are you coming back to Sydney for Thanksgiving?” You responded with a question. 

“No, it would be pointless because I have to immediately fly back to Berlin for finals. Maybe I should stay here until the 22nd of December. Besides, I’m gonna miss it here. Oh-“ He excitedly tore off the wrap of his gift, “Tony Tony Chopper. I had a feeling I would get him,” he laughed. 

“Oh,” you said in a small voice but quickly hid your disappointment and smiled. “I was hoping you’d get him.”

Inside, you were pretty bummed out. Not seeing Chan for over a month was torture. Whatever you wanted to try would have to wait until he got back: the new restaurant by the mall, going on a fishing trip, and using the remaining benefits of your favorite amusement park’s season pass. Most importantly, you chose to wait for him to come home so that the two of you could binge-watch the latest season of Stranger Things. 

Chan had already caught the disappointment in your voice and put down the Tony Tony Chopper figure. Propping his elbow onto the desk, he used his palm to cup his chin, leaning into the monitor. Although he was ten thousand miles away, the gesture made him feel closer to you and Sydney. “You know that’s not what I meant. I miss home, my mum’s cooking, hanging with the guys, and cuddling with Berry. I get homesick at times, but I love it here.”

“I know, I’m just bored without you. I want to go bar hopping in Sydney again,” you groaned, feeling bad for making Chan explain himself when he didn’t even need to. 

“Tch, you just want to see the guys drunk call their girlfriends again.”

“Not even! I only want to see Hyunjin drunk call his girlfriend, it’s so cute when he whines to her about wanting to be the little spoon. He gets so embarrassed whenever Jisung and I show him the recordings,” you cackled like a witch. 

Chan shook his head in disapproval, chuckling at your words, “Y/N, You’re so evil. Just wait until you’re the one to drunk call somebody.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll have somebody by the time you come back,” you shrugged. 

“Oooh, well, do you?” 

“We’ll just have to wait until the next time we go bar hopping.”

“Then, you’re gonna have to wait for another two months,” he sang through the screen, his hand reaching for the mouse to select a song on one of his Spotify playlists. 

SLANDER & Said the Sky - Potions (ft. JT Roach)

“It’s going to be a long wait,” you sighed, drumming your fingers against your desk. 

“Every time you said a word, I was starin' at your lips. I don't think I've ever been so close to a love like this,” he sang along before taking a pause to say, “I’ll be home before you know it.”

Shooting him with a finger gun, you suggested, “Ahah! Are drinks gonna be on you?” 

“Shouldn’t you be buying? I’m the one coming home.”

You scowled. “Ask the boys because you miss them.”

“Don’t worry, I miss you too,” Chan easily confessed, bobbing his head to the drop of the bass. 

↫ ii ↬

“Gobble gobble gobble!” 

“Shut up, we don’t even have a turkey,” Minho said, slapping Jisung’s ass when he took up the entire couch. 

Jisung scooted enough for Minho to sit and used his lap as a pillow, “Hey, I told everyone to pitch in for our lovely Friendsgiving, but nooo! So, it ain’t my problem.”

“We pitched in for beef, that’s even better,” Hyunjin said, jumping back when the meat hit the electric grill, abruptly sizzling and splattering oil onto his hand. 

“Gimme that, you’re going to end up burning the meat and your hand,” Jeongin took the metal tongs from Hyunjin, increasing the temperature of the grill and adding more slices of brisket. 

“Haha, who are you trying to impress? Y/N?” Woojin joked.

Seungmin killed Woojin’s joke in an instant, “No, he’s trying to practice for his crush. They went out the other day and she cooked for him the whole time.”

Changbin stole the first slice of meat from the serving tray, saying with a mouthful, “Big fat rip, dude.”

 “Hello?” Felix said after picking up an incoming call from his phone. He rolled his eyes at the person speaking on the other line, “Liv, I told you to always have your wallet on you. No, I am not going to drive over to drop it off. Just stop by the house on your way to the movies.”

“Your sister left her wallet at home again?” Jisung asked. 

Felix shrugged, “Yeah, she always does that. I’m not gonna drop it off to her this time. Whatever, she said she’ll be here in ten.” 

You wedged yourself between Felix and Seungmin on the couch, making yourself comfortable while Felix challenged Minho on Super Smash Bros. Jisung had just finished setting up his Nintendo Switch on Felix’s TV and tossed both controllers to the first round competitors. Felix selected Dark Pit whereas Minho did the random selection and got Ness. 

“Nooooo! FUCK.” Felix screeched after Minho sent his character flying off the platform. You covered your ears but laughed at Felix’s loss. 

Minho smirked, nodding to his opponent, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do you want to change your fighter?” 

Rolling his tongue in his mouth, Felix shook his head, “No, rematch.”

The doorbell rang. Without a glance, too absorbed into his rematch with Minho, Felix asked you to open the front gate for Olivia. You left the couch and went outside to open it for her. When you opened the wooden gate, you found Bang Chan waiting outside instead of Felix’s sister. Your mouth went agape. 

“You’re back...” You said, stepping aside to let him in. 

Shock was still written across your face. He gently patted his carry on before leaning in to take a look at your face. Jokingly, he said, “I take it that you’re not thrilled to see me, should I leave then?”

Seeing him in person made your heart swell. You suddenly remembered how much you missed him. Overwhelmed by his presence, your eyes began to pool with tears and just could not stop. Without blinking, a big, fat tear escaped. Wiping the stray tear with the sleeve of your hoodie, you wanted to stop crying but wound up sniffling. 

Chan reached for your other arm, gently drawing small circles with his thumb. He couldn’t help but laugh as he attempted to soothe you. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?” He cooed, throwing another joke, “Maybe I should just leave…”

“No, don't.” 

Although tears kept on falling, you laughed back and patted your cheeks dry with your sleeve. Chan let go of the carry-on, spreading his arms wide for only one reason. You accepted his invitation, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his torso. “Don’t worry, I missed you too. But I didn’t expect you to cry so much,” he teased. 

The vibration his laughter gave off, made your insides feel warm and fuzzy. Chan smelled like fresh laundry mixed with the familiar cologne he only wore for special occasions. He rocked you side to side, and you could feel the smile spread across his face from his chuckling. You wanted to hug him even longer but a notification went off, causing both of you to pull away from each other. 

It was coming from the Apple Watch gifted to him from everyone for his 21st birthday. Chan checked the notification, disregarding it when it began to spam. “Let’s go inside,” he said, patting your shoulders to make you head in first. 

“Finally! What took you so long?” Felix jumped from the couch to give Chan a hug. 

Chan gave a nonchalant shrug, “My mum wouldn’t stop talking. If it weren’t for Hannah and Olivia needing a ride to the mall, I would’ve gotten here much later.”

“Christopher Bang, I have been waiting for you,” Jisung swooped in, giving Chan a bear hug. Then, weakly whispered into his dear friend’s ear, “If it was any longer, I would’ve died from starvation.”

You frowned all of a sudden. “Wait, all of you guys knew he was coming back for Thanksgiving?” 

“Surprise!” Felix awkwardly laughed because he knew you were going to strangle him later.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t he come back? It’s Thanksgiving,” Hyunjin walked out of the kitchen with the rest of the guys to hug Chan. 

“You said you weren’t though,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Chan. He removed the black cap from his head, sheepishly running a hand through his... dark brown hair? There was no longer a strand of dirty blonde. “Oh my god, and you dyed your hair back to your natural hair color,” you gasped. 

“Boy, I am starving,” he whistled, purposely ignoring your stare. 

Jisung wrapped his arms around yours and Chan’s shoulders, inhaling the aroma of Seungmin’s freshly baked pies coming from the oven. “I’m so fucking stoked to eat. Let’s eat.”

↫ iii ↬ bh.pt.i ↫

Famous Dex - Japan

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your mans? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan.”

Chan sang Japan by Famous Dex, pointing to Felix once they both made eye contact. Felix quickly caught on, finishing the chorus with a strong dab, “I ain't doin' no playin', these red bottoms, not no Vans. And she tellin' all her friends, I might put 'em on the Gram, aye!” 

“I don’t know you two anymore,” you cringed at the pair. Once the song was over, they started singing to Lil Uzi Vert’s ‘XO TOUR Llif3.’ 

“Should've saw the way she looked me in my eyes. She said baby I am not afraid to, die. Push me to the edge, all my friends are dead, push me to the edge, all my friends are dead,” they both sang, clasping each other’s hands and bobbing their heads. 

“Ah shit, the Uber driver is gonna be outside in two minutes,” Felix cursed and ran upstairs to his room to grab his bomber. 

“Hurry, or else we’re going to leave you!” Chan shouted towards the stairs, then, lowering his voice to tell you, “Let’s leave him.”

You rolled your eyes, and he cracked a smile. 

After Thanksgiving, Chan had two and a half days left before heading back to Berlin. You wanted to spend as much time as you can with him. Not only you, but everyone else wanted to. And the perfect way to do it: 

Bar hopping. (bh)

Jisung brought up the idea because he wanted to buy his friend a drink. It was a treat for Chan since he’s been away for nearly three months. But also, Jisung was anticipating to record any of Hyunjin’s embarrassing moments. For him, it was killing two birds with one stone. 

“Thank you, sir, have a good one,” Chan said to the Uber driver, waving goodbye as he was the last to exit the backseat of the car. 

Felix scanned the area, squinting whenever he saw anyone coming out of a shop. “Uh, we just arrived. Where are you- Oh! I see Woojin waiting in the front,” he hung up. 

“I’m so hungry.” Your stomach grumbled. 

“Yoooooo! Broski, over here,” Felix waved both hands in the air. The three of you approached Woojin, giving him a hug before entering the bar. 

Everyone was already seated inside munching on some salted peanuts. Changbin tossed a peanut into the air, and Jisung caught it in his mouth, extending his arms in the air to gloat his victory. “Now buy me a drink,” he demanded. 

“Fine,” Changbin scoffed but agreed. 

Once the three of you settled down in the large booth, Woojin ordered a beer and a shot of tequila for each person. You were excited to drink but hated tequila. It was the first alcohol to ever give you a massive hangover. The taste was disgusting and a measly whiff could still trigger your gag reflexes. 

“Alright, whoever finishes last needs to take another shot of tequila,” Felix snickered. 

“Ugh, no,” Hyunjin groaned.  

Chan leaned in to whisper into your ear, “Will you be able to handle it?” 

You bumped your left shoulder against his right, “Of course, who do you think I am?” 

Changbin knocked on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “3! 2! 1! Go!” 

You chugged the beer while keeping your eyes open for the rest of the guys. Most of them started off with their shot of tequila to get it over with while you, Jisung, and Jeongin started off with beer. By the time you were halfway done with your beer, the tequila starters were beginning to touch their beers. Some were still making faces from sucking the complementary lime wedges that came with the tequila. 

Finishing the last of your beer, Jisung slapped the table with his shot glass. Still sucking his like wedge, he pointed at you to hurry so you can come in second place. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, grabbing the lime wedge in one hand and the tequila shot in the other, downing it in one go. “That’s so fucking nasty,” you whined and chewed into the lime wedge. 

“Done,” Changbin said, sliding his empty drinks into the center of the table. 

Next, Chan burped out loud, saying, “I’m done. Excuse me.”

When everyone finished, the order came out to be: Jisung, Y/N, Changbin, Chan, Woojin, Minho, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, Hyunjin. 

“FUck, this shit. I hate bar hop… ping,” Hyunjin complained, burping in defeat. 

“Bottoms up, loser,” Jisung laughed. 

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” Everyone chanted, cheering when Hyunjin finished the last of the devil’s juice. Already, his face was getting red as he lazily brushed his messy bangs away from his eyes. 

Even though Jeongin was second to the last place, he was eager to move on to the next round. Rubbing his hands in excitement, he asked, “So what’s next?” 

↫ iii ↬ barhopping pt.ii ↫

“We are just going to take it chill this round,” Seungmin cutely laughed. 

The lightweight slurred, jabbing his index finger onto Seungmin’s chest, “No, you wanted to take it chill this round.”

“He’s trying to save you,” you slapped Hyunjin’s back, “But I don’t mind taking it chill this round.”

Already tipsy and spouting out nonsense like always, Jisung called you out, “Y/N, what’s with the getup today?” 

He really emphasized the makeup and your fitted black off-shoulder top with dramatic John Cena hand movements. You grew embarrassed by the sudden attention. Now, everyone’s eyes were on you, especially Bang Chan’s. Your cheeks grew warm as you blushed, but that honestly did not matter because the lighting of the second bar was dark enough to hide them. 

“Jisung, they’re just falsies,” you rolled your eyes. 

Hyunjin cocked an eyebrow into your direction, “My girlfriend likes to wear them when she’s going out. Are you going out with anybody?” He put his head down and burped. “Keeping seCrets huh? uGH, I miss my girlfriend.”

“Nooo, definitely not…” You sighed, “I just felt like doing something different today.” 

“Is it because Chan is back?” Seungmin felt like he cracked the Da Vinci Code. Ridiculous. 

“You’re ridiculous, Kim Seungmin.”

Felix intervened, lazily karate-chopping his arm into the table. Thanks to him, he saved you from making a fool of yourself. “What about me? Didn’t you know anything different about me today?” He slurred. 

“You’re drunk,” Seungmin pointed out the obvious. 

“No, not yet. I got a new bomber, duh. Go ahead, touch it,” Felix suggested. He grabbed Seungmin’s hand, hovering it over his jacket. Then, Felix made him caress the smooth material. 

Both you and Chan burst out laughing. Then, you both turned to look at each other. When your laughter died down, you glanced at his plump lips and looked away with a sigh on yours. 

Why did you go out of your own way to put on makeup and wear your silver drop earrings? The top was a gift from one of your girlfriends. It’s been sitting in your closet for ages, but still, it was something different. 

The guys began to plan for the winter break agenda and Chan joined in on the conversation. He remembered the video call between you and him. It was around the time of his birthday when he unboxed the mystery One Piece figures you sent to him... Did you ever find somebody? 

For a moment, there was this unsettling feeling growing inside of his chest. Yeah, why did she look differently today, is what he thought. You were never ‘ugly’ in his opinion, you were just Y/N. Whatever you choose to do shouldn't matter, so Chan did what anyone would do: He brushed it off. 

Chan glanced over, feeling a little taken aback when you laughed at something Minho said about Hyunjin. Whenever he was surprised, his eyebrows did this thing where they would cutely knot upwards and his eyes would light up. But this time, it was different. Yes, he was surprised but the expression on his face grew soft immediately after you made eye contact with him. 

You raised the glass of your favorite cocktail to your lips, nodding in excitement when Jisung ‘secretly’ whipped out his phone and began recording Hyunjin. Then, you broke into a playful grin while biting into the black stirring straw before sipping your drink. Yeah, he thought you were really attractive right now. 

For some reason, Bang Chan felt like his body was engulfed by flames. 

You raised a brow, offering him to try your drink with a smile. Chan blinked back, totally aware he was staring at you. Luckily, you weren’t and thought he was curious about your drink. 

Turning down your offer, he decided to lay off on the drinking for the rest of this round. It was the alcohol causing him to feel this way, or that’s what he thought. 

If not, this was going to be a big problem. 

↫ iii ↬ barhopping pt.iii ↫

“Last but not least, we are going to get hammered with soju and meat,” Jisung cupped Changbin’s cheeks, then, patting them like how Asian grandmothers would select the perfect watermelons. 

Before Changbin could place him into a chokehold, Jisung clumsily ran into the restaurant to request for seats. He almost ran into one of the patio heaters in the process. “Come back, you fucking squirrel!” Changbin waved his fist in the air like an old man. 

He adopts a sailors’ mouth when he drinks lol. 

Hyunjin had an arm draped over Woojin’s shoulders. He’s already sobered up by now. “Let’s make sure he gets hammered tonight,” he said, then, pointed a finger at you, “And Y/N.”

“I say we should go for it,” Woojin supported his friend.

Your eyes widened. “What did I do?”

“He’s still salty you sent recordings to his girlfriend,” Jeongin teased Hyunjin, his eyes effortlessly creasing into the cutest eye smile. He reminded you of a baby fox. 

“I didn’t, it was Jisung. Recordings were sent from his phone,” You shrugged and stuck your tongue out when Hyunjin mimicked you. 

Jisung peeked at everyone from the restaurant door and caught Seungmin’s attention first, signaling him to bring everyone inside. Seungmin said, “Let’s go, seats are ready.” 

“I already picked out the meats. Now, the hardest part is choosing the soju flavor,” Jisung looked at the drinks menu with heart eyes. 

Changbin took the menu from Jisung’s hands, cockily skimming through it. “Leave it to me, I know what we should stay away from.”

When the waiter came by, Changbin ended up ordering two large yogurts, two fruit-flavored, and two original soju. Seven drinks. Everyone looked at him with their jaws dropped. “You’re actually insane,” Felix said even though he was at a loss of words. 

“The frat boy mentality has sprung onto him. It’s too late, we can’t save him,” Chan cried, covering his warm face, dramatically tugging it downwards with both hands. 

You sighed and lay your head onto Chan’s shoulder. You were still buzzed, but it was going to be a long night. Earlier, he put his jean jacket over your shoulders when some guy walked by and gave you a whistle. You were very uncomfortable from receiving the unwanted attention coming from a sleazebag and hid behind Chan’s broad frame. 

You were getting tired but still wanted to have fun. Chan’s shoulder was a muscular pillow. Your eyes glanced at the sleeve of his black T-shirt. Then, your eyes trailed down to his arm veins, his hand, and the ring on his pinky finger. It was your gift to him for his birthday this year. There was this strong urge to place your hand on top of his and flip it over so that the palm of his hand would be open for you to entwine your fingers in. 

Fuck, why is he so hot?

You didn’t actually do it though, you could not bring yourself to. When you tilted your head upwards, Chan was laughing at Woojin’s disaster story about his most recent blind date. He must’ve felt your gaze on him so he stopped paying attention to the story. Chan laid his eyes on you while you blinked back in surprise with a tinge of pink on your cheeks. His eyes held your gaze momentarily before trailing down to your lips, and so did you. 

You were both waiting for something to happen. The tension-

“Drinks and meat are here,” Minho excitedly cleared the table for the waiter. 

Both you and Chan looked away from each other at the same time. You instantly removed your head from his shoulder, and he cleared his throat. You were both left feeling embarrassed, however, Chan also felt nervous. You, on the other hand, felt a heavyweight on top of your chest. 

For this last round of bar hopping, you both avoided any sort of eye contact or slight skinship with one another. It was too risky, making a nervous wreck out of both you and Chan. 

“Let’s play Truth or Drink mixed with Never Have I Ever,” Changbin said, pouring a drink into everybody’s shot glass, filling it to the brim. 

Minho scoffed but enjoyed the idea, “You’re just asking for everyone to drink.”

“That’s the point.”

“Never have I ever almost joined a cult back in high school,” Jisung tsked over to his friend, snickering when Hyunjin and Jeongin downed the shot in one go. 

Hyunjin went next and glared at Jisung, “Never have I ever lived in Malaysia during my childhood.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes at Hyunjin, chewing on a piece of meat after drinking his shot. “Playing like that, I see.”

“Well, you started it.”

“No, you.”

“You.”

“You.”

Chan interrupted their bickering, and said, “Moving on, never have I ever… Cheated on an exam.” Everyone groaned, drinking except for him, Seungmin, and Hyunjin. Then, it was your turn. 

“Er… Never have I ever blacked out from drinking,” you peeked around, raising your glass to everyone. Changbin, Woojin, Chan, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix all clinked their glasses together. 

“Alcoholics,” Minho shook his head, eyeing each person with false disappointment written on his face. 

“Shut the fuck up, you have no right. You’re the goddamn instigator,” Jisung kicked Minho’s foot under the table. 

“Stop playing footsies with me.”

“Oh, I can stop whenever I want to.”

“Can I go now?” Seungmin stuck a piece of rib finger into Jisung’s mouth. Everyone gave him the go, so he suggested, “Let’s do Truth or Drink this round, and the question applies to everyone. If you were a serial killer in a movie, who would you kill first? On the count of three, point your finger to the person. 3! 2! 1!”

“Wow.” And it wasn’t hard to guess who it was. 

The rest of the night went by like that, playing more rounds of Never Have I Ever and Truth or Drink. More than half of the group was drunk and Hyunjin had his head down. He already knocked out and was drooling. You were drunk too but waited for Felix to take his turn. 

Propping your chin in the palm of your right hand, you felt your eyelids become heavier the longer Felix took to ask his question. Finally, he asked everyone, “What are you the most grateful for?”

“I’m the most grateful for my cats,” Minho brought up his fingers and began to list each cat, “Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. Sometimes, I get hissed at but I still love them all.”

It was Chan’s turn. “Mmm,” he thought, “I’d say, my parents, because if they never gifted me with music, I wouldn’t be CB97 right now.”

“And there wouldn’t be SPEARmint and your one and only,” Jisung sluggishly pointed to himself, groaning, “J.One.”

“It’s SPEARB,” Changbin whined, hugging Jisung. 

Chan was beginning to sober up and sipped on his half-full glass of water. Getting sentimental and smiling over to his rap unit members, his ears perked up when it was your turn. You had your head and arms sprawled across the table, earning a laugh from Minho when you palmed your forehead with a disgruntled look on your face. Your head hurt, but you continued, “I am grateful for a lot of things. My dog, meeting my ultimate bias, and having you guys in my life.”

“That’s so generic, be more specific,” Minho teased. 

“Lix, I’m grateful for Felix. If my dad never met his dad in their twenties, I would’ve never grown up with Lix. My dad wouldn’t have almost accidentally run over him that one time when he was running away from Rachel.”

“Huh, I remembered that day. Rachel got so mad at me for reading her diary. I mean, she did leave it on the couch,” Felix reminisced, chuckling at the memory from long ago. 

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, a little confused with what you shared. “Shouldn’t you be grateful for your dad meeting Felix’s dad? And not Felix?”

“Sure, but it’s Felix I am most grateful for. Because without him, I would’ve never met everyone else… and Chan,” you patted Felix’s bomber with your eyes closed and expected him to feel touched by your words. 

“Why say it like that? What differentiates Chan from everyone else?” Jeongin asked with a small pout on his lips. Chan wanted to know as well. He didn’t know why you paused a little before saying his name. Was he special to you in any way? 

Yeah. What differentiates Chan from everyone else? 

“Stop asking me, and let’s move on to Felix. It hurts to think,” you complained.

↫ iv ↬

“Oi bro, today was fun. But I’m fucking wasted,” Felix burped. He leaned his head against the door frame while intensely staring at the door handle. Concentration was key, literally. Felix needed to press the correct keys or else you, him, and Chan would be sleeping in the front yard tonight. Nobody was home. 

“You good there, buddy?” Chan asked with a concerned tone. 

Felix entered the correct code and the numbers on the keypad lit up blue, making him internally jumping with happiness. “Ohh hell yeah. Uh-”

Then, he pushed through the door, startling Chan as he ran through the living room and into the kitchen to hurl into the nearest trash can. Chan quickly went after Felix while still carrying you on his back. “Bro,” he cringed at the loose chunks in the trash can and rubbed Felix’s back, “Keep throwing up, it’ll definitely make you feel better. I’m gonna get you some water. Just let me take Y/N upstairs.”

Felix waved Chan off and said he’d be fine. He was going to go straight to his room afterward, change into his pajamas, and chug the huge hydro flask by his bed. It seems like Felix planned for this to happen, so Chan didn’t have to worry much. 

Chan carried you upstairs to the guest room and carefully unwrapped your arms from his neck when he sat on the bed. When he let go, you hit the back of your head against the headboard and whined in pain. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“Ugh, how long have I been out for,” you said, clutching onto the back of your head. 

Chan shrugged, turning around to look at you. “Just the ride back home.”

“I’m not looking forward to a hangover tomorrow.”

You expected Chan to respond but there was no reply. When you peeked one eye open, he was gone. You sighed, rolling to your side to face the window. Why did you feel so puzzled all of a sudden? 

“Are you asleep?” A voice whispered from the end of the bed. 

It was Chan and he had a tall glass of water in his hands. You sat up, thanking him as you took the glass and greedily drank from it. When you finished, you placed it onto the nightstand before laying on your back again. 

“Am I different?” Chan suddenly asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, am I different from the others?” 

You lightly shoved his arm with your foot. “Other guys? Yeah, you’re CB97.”

He shook his head. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. “No, actually, never mind,” he said, changing his mind. 

You frowned and sat up. Then, you nudged his arm, bugging him to tell you, “What is it? Tell me, Bang Chan.”

When you whined, even more, he softly chuckled, facing you with a smile. The only source of light came from outside’s yard lamp through the window slits. You held in a breath when he leaned in. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

↫ v ↬

“Y/N, why are we doing this? You know I can’t bake.”

Felix frowned at the baking instructions displayed on his phone. He was having a hard time converting grams to ounces because the mixer was too disruptive. It was annoyingly loud. For the love of god, he spilled some powdered sugar onto the counter. 

“I need help, Lix. It’s hard to make macarons by myself,” you huffed, blowing a strand of your bangs out of the way. 

“What’s in it for me? I could be sleeping in right now,” Felix scoffed but went to the cupboard to grab sugar, salt, and almond flour. 

“You get to spend quality time with me for free. Also, you can eat delicious strawberry macarons. They’re your favorite.”

He shook his head, “No, they’re Chan’s favorite. I already knew your intentions the moment you asked to come over. And, I like banana flavored.”

“What’s with you and banana?”

“Don’t you just love the way it’s pronounced? Banana,” he smiled, thinking about bananas. 

Handing Felix the electric mixer, you bossed him around, enjoying every moment of it, “No, now beat the eggs with the mixer until it becomes stiff peaks,” 

“Y/N, If you like Chan, it’s okay to admit it. I won’t judge you,” he said, cracking a couple eggs into a large bowl, then scooped the yolks into a smaller bowl, “But I’ll make fun of you.”

You paused whatever you were doing to ask, “Why’d you say that out of the blue? That’s odd.” 

“Look,” he paused, “When have you ever went out of your way to gift homemade cookies for someone? This is cute child’s play Y/N.” 

“Never. But everyone is getting a share of this batch, so I don’t know why you’re quick to assume,” you nervously shrugged. Why were you nervous? There was no reason. 

“But who were you thinking of surprising when you bought the ingredients?” 

You eyed the egg whites sliding off the cracked eggshells in his hand as they slowly dripped into the mixing bowl. Cringing at his sloppiness, you told him to start mixing and less talking. “Why would I like him, it’d never work out between us,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Just don’t complain to me when he comes back with a girlfriend from his study abroad program,” Felix annoyingly sang, hitting the power button on the electric mixer. You felt something inside of you sort of snap.

“What?” You asked. 

“You’re not the only girl he’s friends with. You know that right?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment. You were no special exception and it somehow made you feel more hopeless. Felix knew his words must’ve triggered something so he decided to tone it down.

“As your best friend, I know when you’re into someone. This time, it’s different. You may not think you’ve liked Chan for a long time, but trust me, I know,” Felix turned down the mixer to add some sugar with the whipped egg whites, “No matter how many guys you’ve liked in the past, you’d always set them aside for Chan. You don’t do things like having late-night phone calls, binge-watching One Piece, or bake fancy cookies for anyone else. Only Chan. Admit it before I knock some sense into you, idiot. You have a soft spot for him.”

“I do not…” You said in denial, but who were you trying to convince?

“Whatever,” Felix gave up and rolled his eyes. He adjusted the speed of the electric mixer, adding the rest of the sugar into the whipped egg whites. 

When Felix finished whipping the egg whites, they became stiff peaks. He removed the mixer from the bowl, distracted by the mixture’s consistency and unwillingness to budge. “Hey, Y/N,” he tapped your shoulder before holding the bowl of stiff peaks upside down above his head, “Check this out.”

“YONGBOK WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You screamed his Korean name, hoping the mix wouldn’t fall onto his head and get on the floor. 

“Look, it’s not falling hehehe,” Felix laughed, remembering how he saw something like this in a Tasty video. 

You grabbed Felix’s shoulders in hopes of him putting the bowl down but then he placed it over your head and laughed. “Oh my god, if it gets in my hair, I’m gonna kill you,” you vigorously shook him. 

Felix laughed and put you in a headlock, threatening to coat your face in stiff peaks. “You started it by calling me Yongbok.”

“Yongbok, Yongbokie, LEE YONGBOK,” you giggled when he locked you in tighter. His soft hoodie tickled your neck and you were scared of getting smeared with the cookie mixture. 

“What are you guys doing?” 

Felix dropped his arm to his side and placed the mixing bowl onto the counter. You stood up, fixing your now messy ponytail and awkwardly coughed. 

Chan stood by the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed, looking somewhat displeased. You looked anywhere else but him. When you finally made eye contact with Chan, he quickly avoided it and cleared his throat. “I just came to say goodbye,” he said. 

“But isn’t your flight at 5?” Felix glanced at his oven’s built-in clock, “It’s not even noon yet and you’re already leaving?” 

“My parents want to have lunch with me before dropping me off at the airport. They invited my grandparents and other relatives, so it’s going to take a while.”

“Do the rest know?” 

Chan nodded, “Yeah, I’m going to head back to grab my luggage after lunch, but I messaged them earlier and came to say goodbye just in case.”

Felix walked over to Chan and gave him the tightest bear hug, “Take care and stay safe. I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah, and take care as well,” Chan smiled. 

“For sure.”

When their hug was over, Felix said he needed to grab a charger from upstairs because his phone was about to die. You didn’t want to be alone with Chan because you were afraid of acting weird around him, then no one could save you. “What are you two making?” Chan nodded at the mess in the kitchen. 

You shyly smiled, “Uh… Cookies? Hey Chan, are you going to stop by here again after your family lunch?”

“Maybe not, I’m not sure. I’ll call you if I do.”

“Hmmm, okay,” you nodded awkwardly, “I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks too.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you know it,” Chan smiled and began teasing, “Better not be a crybaby once I leave.” 

You slapped his arm, “It won’t happen again, just let it gooo.”

“Hmm, nooo,” he laughed. 

When Chan’s laughter died down, he stared at you with a small sigh. You were acting a little different today and he kind of had an idea as to why. He thought you sensed something unusual about his behavior, making you feel awkward towards him. He just wanted to board the plane right now and get his thoughts settled. 

Chan wanted you to give him a hug like always but you refrained from doing so. By the time Felix came back down with his charger, he sensed the weird atmosphere and mouthed to you, ‘What did you do?’

You narrowed your eyes at him and Chan’s phone rang at the same time. It was Lucas on the other line, asking when his brother would be home since their grandparents would be arriving soon. Chan took that as a cue to be on his way, leaving you in the kitchen as Felix walked him out of the front door. 

Felix came into the kitchen confused, “What happened when I was gone?” 

“Nothing, we were just talking.” 

“Do you think we’re going to finish baking these macarons by the time he leaves to the airport?” Felix scratched his head. 

“I hope so,” you sighed. If you worked efficiently enough, it’s possible to finish on time. 

Chan quietly sat in the back seat of the minivan with his younger siblings on the way back from the restaurant. He’d usually bug Hannah about her recent boy crushes or watch Lucas play Monster Hunter on his 3DS. This time, he stared out the window with his EarPods in. A lot was on his mind. 

Chan felt sort of jealous, then stupid, then fine again. It was a cycle on his way back to the house. He knew Felix didn’t have any romantic feelings for you, but the tinge of jealousy would not leave his system. Chan let himself into the house when Felix had just finished mixing whatever. He was curious as to why Felix was up so early since his best friend tends to sleep in till noon during breaks. 

When Chan heard your voice, his ears perked up like a dog. He felt excited to see you and walked into the kitchen, hoping to surprise you. Instead, Chan himself was surprised when he found Felix holding you in a headlock. You were laughing and squirming in Felix’s hold, making Chan wish he didn’t see that. 

Not once have you laughed like that with Chan since he came back to visit. Chan thought you developed a crush on Felix but haven’t told him. But how could you not? You always tell Chan everything. He didn’t care if you liked someone… So what?

When they arrived home, Chan’s father pulled into the driveway. Everyone went inside to rest for a little while before sending him off to the airport. Chan still needed to go upstairs, so he could grab his things and load them into the trunk. After carrying his luggage downstairs and to the minivan, Chan popped open the trunk, halfway loading his things but stopped when his phone went off. 

He picked up the call with his earphones, unaware of the person calling, “Hello?” 

“H-have you left to the airport yet? Or are you still at home?” You said, heavily panting on the other line of the call. 

“Y/N?” Chan asked surprised, “I’m still at home. I just got back.” He waited for you to answer but you had already hung up. “Hello? Y/N?”

“Chan!” You ran up to him, exhausted and a little sweaty. Then, you placed a hand on your waist to keep yourself up as you slowly regain your breath. 

“Did you run here?” 

“Yes.”

“What? Why?”

You stuck your hand into the inside of your denim jacket and fished out a decent packaged goodie bag. “I didn’t want you to leave empty-handed, so I made you these.”

You never fail to catch Chan off guard these days. He slowly unraveled the bag as if it were a delicate rose, and peeked inside to see a couple of pink macarons. Although several of them were cracked because Felix opened the oven midway into baking, causing them to deflate, there were some good ones. 

“Is this what you were baking with Lix?” Chan asked. When you nodded, a smile couldn’t help but form on his lips. 

“Yeah, sorry if I didn’t ask you to stay or say much. I wanted it to be a surprise,” you shyly glanced around him, hoping he’d try one of the cracked cookie sandwiches. 

“Huh, I would’ve never guessed,” Chan laughed. As dumb as it sounds, he felt better knowing you were thinking of him. 

You peeked into his goodie bag, “Are you going to try one?”

“Yeah, here,” he handed you one before taking a bite of his own. 

You thought it was cute when Chan slowly chewed on the cookie. His eyes formed into crescents once he recognized the flavor. After finishing one macaron, he wrapped the bag, closing it and stuffed it into his pocket, “I’m saving these for when I wait to board the plane.”

“Here, eat mine,” you offered the uneaten macaron in your hand. 

“You don’t like strawberries?” 

“No, I do. But I know you like them more, so here,” you brought the miniature sandwich to his lips, smiling when he opened his mouth. 

“Fanks, tho good,” Chan said with a mouthful. 

“Ew, chew with your mouth closed.”

“Hmmm,” he swallowed the last of the macaron, “I said they’re really good, and thank you.”

Sighing in relief, you said, “Of course, I’m glad they come out burnt.”

“They came out kinda ugly though.”

You hit Chan’s bicep. “Then don’t eat them,” you held your hand out, “Return them.”

Chan laughed but reached into his pocket. Instead of handing the cookies back, he grabbed your hand and pulled you in for a hug. As his arms wrapped around your shoulders, he hugged tighter. You uncontrollably smiled, returning his hug and laughed at his sly move. Chan notices how he loves it when he’s this close to you. It makes him feel good to be around you. 

He likes to do this thing where he rocks you back and forth in his arms. You remembered the first time he did it was when you were juniors in high school. You embarrassed yourself in front of a guy you liked at the time and felt down for the whole day. It wasn’t until after school where you were forced to tag along with Felix and Chan to eat pizza which made you feel better. Although you weren’t by the time you met up with them, both caught the sight of your glossy eyes. 

Felix said he had to head back early because he needed to study for a bio test, but you and Chan both knew he would end up playing video games instead. Chan bought you a smoothie and walked you home since it was on the way to his. Before he let you go, he gave you a bear crushing hug, rocking you back and forth while telling you to cheer up and stop being a crybaby. His way of cheering you up always made you laugh and feel warm inside. 

Chan was your big, swol teddy bear. 

Fuck it, you liked him... It didn’t matter. You will deal with it later. 

“Did you really think I’d give them back?” He playfully teased. 

“If you did, I will never make you anything ever again. Ungrateful jerk,” you huffed, pretending to be angry. 

“Nah, I’d never,” he said softly. 

“When are you leaving?” You said, your voice a little muffled from being too close against his jacket. 

“Pretty soon. We’re just waiting for my dad to get off his food coma.”

“Ohh okay.”

Still hugging you, Chan felt like he really needed to say it. You already know though and it wouldn’t change anything, but a strange feeling of realization hit him. As cheesy as it sounds, he wanted to give you a light kiss on your forehead. Wow, he likes you and he is finally sure of his feelings. 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna miss you,” Chan took a deep breath, “I always do, so don’t be a crybaby when I leave.”

↫ vi ↬

Chan rushed back to his dorm, feeling a surge of inspiration out of nowhere. It was a pain to sit through the last half of class when he was so eager to leave. He was excited to hop on his keyboard to work on a mix. 

Once he stepped into his room, he dumped his backpack onto the floor and stripped off his hoodie, tossing it onto the bed. Then, he pulled out the keyboard pad from his desk and began to set up his laptop and headphones. 

It was perfect. 

Chan was afraid he’d lose the beat or lyrics that came to his mind earlier, but he got it down pretty quick. Now, the hard part. He had to find a way for it to flow smoothly together. He hummed, his head bobbing to the new beat, but something was still lacking. 

“Maybe if I move this here, the transitioning would be a lot better,” Chan clicked on his mouse and dragged one of the clips, inserting it into the mix. When he replayed the sound, he smiled in content. 

CB97’s back, baby.

Just when he felt like he could add in another element, an incoming call interrupted his train of thought. It was from you. 

He picked up the call and swiped into the clock app to check the time zone in Sydney. His eyes widened, why were you calling him 12:30 in the morning? Did something happen?

“Hello? Y/N?” Chan said to the other line. 

“I’m bored,” you said. 

He laughed. “Why are you calling me? Are you by yourself?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head, “I’m with Lix, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Changbin. Eww, Lix just threw up in the bushes.”

Chan cringed at the sound of his best friend hurling on the other line. It reminded him of the last time he went bar hopping with you and everyone. Now that Chan knew you were drinking, it was obvious you were drunk too. 

“Why’d you call?”

“I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know… Hyunjin started calling his girlfriend midway through finishing his drink. Then Changbin called his to confess how much he likes her. And don’t get me started on Jisung,” you tiredly watched Jisung rub soothing circles on Felix’s back. 

“What about Jisung?” Chan chuckled, urging you to continue. 

“He FaceTimed his girlfriend and said he loves her and misses her even though he knows she’s going to kick his ass for getting drunk,” you sighed. 

“Then what?”

“Felix didn’t have anyone to call. He only searched up Momo on google images and angrily pointed at Heechul to treat her right or else he would fly to Korea to square up,” you laughed, starting to feel a little sick too. 

“What about you? Did you have anyone to call?” Chan removed himself from his desk and plopped onto his bed. 

“No, only you. There’s no one else to call, I don’t like anyone else,” you said truthfully. 

“Wow, so I was your last resort,” he joked. 

You felt liquid courage giving you a booster. Shaking your head, you sighed deeply as you watched Felix cough up the last of his partially digested pizza. “Never, I like you too much. I didn’t call anyone else because you’re the only one I want to talk to. So, no. Not my last resort, more like my automatic first choice,” you confessed. 

“Sure.”

“No, I mean it. I love you so much. I just want to hug you all day long. You have no idea how much I miss you,” you whined. 

Chan’s smile faltered and his heart began to race. There’s no way you meant that, did you? 

“How much did you drink?”

“Enough to feel like throwing up but not enough to actually throw up,” you groaned at the unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“Will you remember what you just said to me when you wake up tomorrow?”

“Of course. I always remember! Remember, you said I would someday drunk call somebody. Well, you were right,” you giggled.

Boy, he hoped so. Chan was shaken but couldn’t do much because you were intoxicated. If you did like him, he wanted you to confess when you’re actually sober. That way, Chan would know you were being serious. 

“Who’s not wasted? Can you hand them your phone?” Chan rolled in his bed while anxiously waiting. 

“Hello?” A familiar raspy voice asked. 

“Hey Bin, is everyone sleeping over at someone’s house tonight?”

“Oh, hey,” Changbin said tiredly, “Yeah, we’re going to head back to Felix’s soon. Just haven’t called an Uber yet because Y/N’s been on the phone. Everyone’s phones pretty much died.”

“That’s good,” Chan mumbled to himself, “Can you do me a favor and take care of Y/N for me? Just make sure she gets into a bed and drinks a glass of water before she sleeps. She’ll be fine by the time you guys get to the house since she sobers pretty fast.”

“Honestly, you should be here. She’s been talking about you all night long, but it’s Gucci. I’m gonna take care of everyone,” Changbin nonchalantly shrugged. It was no biggie to him. 

“Just keep an eye out for her and everyone else,” Chan sighed. 

Changbin nodded, “Yessir. I am going to order an Uber now, I’ll talk to you later. Oh shit, Y/N just threw up.”

“What? Wait-“

Although Chan’s heart was still pounding, he figured to leave it until tomorrow when you sobered up. He couldn’t stop rolling in his bed and suddenly felt more homesick. He didn’t know whether or not he should call you first thing tomorrow after his brunch with a classmate. Or maybe he should wait for you to say something? 

Either way, you drove him nuts. Both good and bad. 

The next morning, you stormed downstairs to look for the person who made you go out last night. He slept on the couch, snoring lightly and draped an arm over his eyes. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you angrily tossed one of the couch pillows at a hungover Felix. 

Felix tiredly rubbed his eyes. You woke him up and he palmed every spot on the couch for his phone. “What now?” He asked. 

“I should’ve never gone with you guys. I’m screwed,” you said in distress. 

“You’re so LOUD, I’m TRYNA SLEEP Y/N,” Jisung crankily got up from the couch and walked into Felix’s room to join Changbin under the covers. 

“What did I do?” Felix asked again. 

“I should have never gone drinking last night. I fucked up everything, I can’t bear to see Chan or even talk to him again,” you said, pacing back and forth in front of the TV. 

Felix laughed, “Did you drunk call him and confess?”

“I think so, something along the lines of that,” you tried to remember your exact words but brain fart. 

“Oh shit,” he chuckled. 

“It’s not funny,” you began tearing up, “I messed up everything. It won’t be the same anymore. I don’t want Chan to avoid and stop talking to me because of these stupid feelings.”

Alarmed with your glossy eyes, Felix jumped from the couch even though he still felt nauseous from last night. He patted your back, holding in a laugh when you blinked away some tears. You reminded him of Jeongin. “Y/N, you’re worrying over nothing. Chan’s not going to do that to you, trust me. You know, confessions don’t mean much when you’re drunk.”

Sniffling, you asked him, “What do you mean they don’t mean much when you’re drunk? There’s truth to those words.” 

“Being intoxicated makes you say a lot of things you would not choose to say if you were sober. One time, I even said Changbin’s arms were hot. Can you believe that?” He scoffed. 

“Yeah, I mean, they’re pretty thick.”

Felix rolled his eyes, “The point is, confessions are meaningful when you’re sober. There’s something about being fully aware of your words and having the courage to say it without having to rely on liquid courage. Your confession was most likely taken lightly. You were just letting a friend know you miss him, like a lot, but that’s it.”

“So everything will be okay?”

“Yes, so stop worrying.”

↫ vii ↬

But everything wasn’t okay. 

Chan kicked off his shoes and fell into bed right after his last final. It’s been almost two weeks since he last talked to you (you drunk calling him in the middle of the day), and he felt stuck. When he sent you messages and memes, you wouldn’t respond or would leave him on read. Sometimes, it’d be a miracle if you gave him short responses. Even then, the atmosphere was off and he didn’t know how to keep initiating without the conversation being cut short. 

On days like this, it’d be perfect to compose something, anything. However, Chan kept deleting newly recorded beats, dissatisfied with its quality and flow. He gave up and quit all his open programs. 

Without thinking about the different time zones, Chan went on Discord. His cursor hovered over your icon before he clicked on it. It’s now or never, he thought. Chan felt his heart pounding over a simple video call. He didn’t even know if you were going to answer. It’s better to not get his hopes up. 

When the server rang, he anxiously clicked open some tabs to respond to Felix and check Facebook. 

“Hello?” You asked, dreading the moment he called you. 

“Y/N?” Chan asked, surprised you answered. He stared at the monitor, taking in the image of you working on something in your notebook.  

“Hey,” you sighed. 

Chan’s brows furrowed. He grew concerned at the time of your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired. You know, the same thing always happening at school and work,” you lied, avoiding his stare. His gaze was still piercing through a screen. 

“Doesn’t seem like it. You usually talk about school and work, but you haven’t been doing so lately. Let alone at all,” Chan sadly stared at the screen as you pretended to be writing something important down. 

“Sorry, I’ve been pretty stressed lately. I haven’t had the time to talk or call,” you apologized, feeding him another lie. Oh, but he knew you were avoiding him. 

“You should’ve sent me a message or called me at least. It’s better to talk about it, Y/N. Keeping worries to yourself only make matters worse.”

“I’ll try to.”

Fed up with the tension, Chan frustratedly combed his hair with his fingers, “Cut the bullshit Y/N. I know you’ve been ignoring me. If it’s about that night you drunk called me, I’ll drop it. I know you don’t do homework at this time, especially on a Friday night.”

You dropped your pencil and stayed silent. Chan could only do so much on a screen. He stared at you, waiting for you to respond. It was dead silent because you could hear his hallmates talking in a foreign language as they passed by his door.

“Are you really not going to say anything?”

Finally looking up, you wiped off the tears that fell down to your cheeks, sighing. Chan sat up in his chair, worried he messed up. He thought you were going to end the call but held in a breath when you said, “What am I supposed to say? That, I’m sorry for having feelings for you? You say you can easily drop it, but I can’t.”

Chan let his hand cover his mouth, trying to hide his troubled expression. “Who said it was easy to drop it?”

“It’s not, but I screwed up… You’re aware of my feelings towards you. I can still remember that night’s conversation, and I know you do as well,” you covered your face, you didn’t want him to see you crying and looking like Rudolph, “It’s just going to be awkward for us the next time we’ll see each other. Everyone will sense it too. You’ll end up avoiding me.”

“Why do you say that? How can I avoid you? I’ve known you for years. That’s the least of your worries,” Chan said, frowning at your reasoning. He was utterly baffled. 

You slammed your palms onto the desk. “How is that the least of my worries? I like you more than a friend would, Chan. I have feelings for you, but I feel like I’m on the verge of losing one of the closest people in my life, you.”

You were both practically raising your voices on each other. 

He frustratedly started off strong, “What if you said those words to me when you were drunk but don’t actually mean it when you’re sober,” but finished in a small voice, “Then what?” 

“But that didn��t happen, so there’s no point in bringing up another possibility,” you softly said. 

“So what? Are you going to take back what you said? Because you can’t.”

Your heart dropped, and you wanted to bawl. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and ended the call. 

You shut off your laptop and sat in your chair crying. When you got into bed, you curled into a ball with a tissue box beside you. You felt horrible. Everything was a mess. After going through twenty-something tissues, the mini trash can by your desk was filled with snot balls and evaporated tears. Exhausted and too tired to cry anymore, your eyelids slowly dropped until a notification popped up on the screen of your phone. 

It was a Surprise LIVE! from Monsta X. 

You chucked your phone away and it fell off the bed and onto the wooden floor. As if you cared about watching them live right now. If your ultimate bias couldn’t cheer you up with his smile, nothing could. 

You retrieved your phone to find a message from Chan. He only sent you a link directing you to Spotify playlist titled: 

↫ viii ↬ “I’m back and you didn’t even come with Lix to the airport to come to get me? I’m so hurt,” Chan pretended to be offended. He placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt as you laughed at his attempt to be petty. Afterward, he excused himself to change into a more comfortable outfit and muted you on Discord.

When Chan finally unmuted the call, you blew a raspberry and stuck your tongue out at the camera. “I couldn’t, I was out of town. I just got back an hour ago,” you yawned, stretching your arms into the air. Then you spun around in your chair, coming to a complete stop when you saw him wearing a new sweatshirt.

“I knowww,” Chan dragged, taking a seat in front of his monitor again, “I’m surprised I’m not that jet lag.”

“It’ll catch up to you, trust me,” you rolled your eyes at the memory of your own jet lag experience. It was horrible. “Is that new? The quality looks expensive, what’s it made of?” You asked about his sweatshirt.

Chan touched the black fabric, pinching it between his fingers to emphasize his next words, “You can say it’s… boyfriend material…” He shyly laughed when you palmed your face at his cheesy joke, but you were laughing too. “I’M JOKING, ENOUGH,” he smiled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing that, Chan,” you teased.

He looked down at his sweatshirt, searching for any flaws. “Why? Does it look ugly on me?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head, “You’re a fraud.”

“For what?”

“As much as you’re wearing something that’s boyfriend material, are you boyfriend material?” You teased him again as he could only smile back at you. He took your hint pretty well.

Chan pretended to shrug and spun in his chair. He briefly stared at the ceiling, thinking of what to say next. When Chan looked into the lens, he chuckled softly, “Can I? Or shall I?”

“Can you what?” You didn’t get it.

“Be your boyfriend.”

You blushed and fell silent. Chan wiggled his eyebrows, feeling like he won this time. It was your turn to get teased by him. He was about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Ask me again in person,” you looked away from the screen of your laptop to hide your warm cheeks.

“Can I? Or shall I?”

“What?”

“Come over now,” Chan eagerly suggested.

It was obvious that he was super excited and wanted to see you in person. He was like a kid on a sugar high.

“Can I? Or shall I?”

When his joke was being repeated by someone else other than him, you, he tilted his head in confusion. “What?” He asked.

“Can I? Or shall I? Be your girlfriend.”

Bang Chan didn’t even have to think twice. “Yes.”

“Well, come on and get over here then,” you laughed.

“Be there in fifteen.”

↫ ix ↬

“Wow, that movie is so good. It’s the best one I’ve seen all year long,” Chan gushed as you searched for places to grab a quick drink before going home.

You both had just finished watching Parasite, a movie about a lower class family benefiting from a wealthy family. From the trailers you’ve watched with Chan, you both thought it was going to be some kind of horror movie. However, the plot was totally unexpected and kept you on your toes. 

Chan paid attention to the road but felt your eyes land on him. You smiled, adding on to what he was probably going to say next, “I’d say it deserves a ten out of ten from me.”

You navigated him to the nearest boba shop. To Chan’s luck, he found an open parking spot a few shops away from the place. When you got out of the car, the strong breeze hit your face, causing you to scrunch your nose. Chan noticed, so he put your hood on and tightly pulled onto the strings of your hoodie. You squealed, leaning away as he laughed. 

As you kept walking, you were tired of having your hand brush against his. So, you took his hand into yours, slowly entwining your fingers with his while holding them up to show him. Chan covered his face because he found you so cute. He wanted to give you a hug. 

“Can I see your wallet?” Chan asked. 

You didn’t know why but you gave it to him anyway. You were fine with it since he’s already seen your cringy IDs since high school. “Why, what are you going to do with it?” 

He ignored your question and approached the cashier, leaving you in the booth by yourself, asking, “Hi, can I get two roasted rice milk teas? Yeah, and with boba too.”

Then, Chan brought his phone out of his pocket, using  Apple Pay as you stood there in disbelief. He walked back to the booth, taking your hand in his and returned your wallet. “Wow, you’re sly,” you slapped his hand away. 

Chan chuckled, playing with the order number at his fingertips, “You can pay next time.”

“Oh, I will,” you stuck your tongue out. 

Once your drinks were out, Chan drove you back to your place. You sat in the car with him, getting nervous when he turned off the engine. “Do you wanna… “ He threw in a suggestion. 

You didn’t even let him finish. “W-wanna what?” 

Chan held back a small laugh, “I was wondering,” and he paused, “If you wanted to take a stroll around the neighborhood before we call it a night.”

You wanted to repeatedly slap your forehead for having inappropriate thoughts in the first place. When you didn’t give Chan an answer, he threw in another suggestion. “Unless it’s too cold outside, we can go back to my place and hang out with Berry,” he shrugged. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of Berry. Your love for dogs was the same as it was for boba, and you excitedly nodded. Chan shook his head and rolled eyes his at your childlike reaction. He started his car again, reversing to give him some leeway and drove into the streets. His place wasn’t far from yours, it was only a five-minute drive and a fifteen-minute walk. 

After parking his car into the driveway, you bolted out of your seat and waited for him to catch up to you at the door. Chan teased you for being more excited to see Berry instead of him. When you said, ‘Of course,’ he stopped in the middle of unlocking the door and raised an eyebrow. 

Chan leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You can find your own ride back home, then.”

He bit his lip to prevent a smile from forming on his lips when you linked your arms with his, saying ‘sorry’ while begging him to drive you back home later. Of course, Chan was going to take you back. He wanted to make sure you were heading into your house safe and sound. When he finally unlocked the door, Berry woke up and shook herself before approaching the familiar scent of her owner. You heard small footsteps and the bell of her collar tinkling as she walked up to you and Chan. 

He petted her head, giving it a quick scratch before kicking his shoes off. You crouched down to pet Berry while she heavily sniffed your ankles and socks. There was a dog scent coming from you because you have a dog back at home too. 

Chan flipped on the lights and went to the kitchen to dump his empty drink into the motion sensor trash bin. When he walked into the living room, you had Berry laying flat on your chest and stomach. Her head pointed towards you and she cutely blinked, slowly beginning to fall asleep until Chan sat next to you. 

She got up, edging herself between you two and laid on her stomach, waiting for Chan to give her a belly rub. As he rubbed her belly, you looked around the living room and noticed the house was quiet. “Where’s everybody?” You asked. 

“Hannah’s at a sleepover and Lucas went with my parents to see a show. So I guess it’s just you and me.”

“Oh.”

“Wanna see what I’ve been working on?”

“Sure,” you nodded, feeling nervous again. Chan carried Berry back to her doggie bed by the fireplace, giving her one last pet before heading upstairs with you. When you walked into his room, you rolled your eyes at the giant monitors on his desk. Chan turned on his computer, satisfied with its smooth powering up, and typed in his password when the login appeared onto the screen.

Distracted by his light-up keyboard and mouse, you weren’t aware of him asking you to have a seat on his bed. Chan shook his head, handing you the mouse. “Go for it,” he offered you to change the color of his setup. 

When you handed back the mouse, Chan searched for a folder titled: CB97 and clicked on a file that opened into an audio clip. He played it for you, a soft smile appearing on his lips when you bobbed to the beat. “Do you have a name for this song in the making?”

“I’m thinking of… Hoodie Season?”

“I like that title,” you fell onto the bed as he played more clips for you to hear. When your eyelids were slowly beginning to droop, both yours and Chan’s phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat notification from Hyunjin. 

You reached into your butt pocket, whipping out your phone to take a look at whatever irrelevant thing Hyunjin would send to you at this time. When you opened his message, it was a recorded memory from a couple weeks back. 

“Yo, I’m sick as fuuu-“ Felix hyped himself until he threw up into the nearest bush outside of the local bar. Thank god the snap ended before you could see anything coming out, but it was still fun to watch. 

You giggled and pressed onto the next video.

“I miss you, I love you, and I know you’re going to kick my ass when you see me tomorrow,” Jisung whined to his girlfriend on the phone, “If you kick my ass, you will regret it. Then, you won’t have a nice ass to look at and touch anymore.”

Then the camera pointed at you. “You’re so gross,” you fake gagged and took out your own phone to dial your crush, “God, I miss Chan.”

Before you could finish watching the whole thing, you internally screamed inside your head and quickly skipped that part. “What was that?” Chan asked, plopping onto the bed to watch the video when he heard his name being said out loud. 

You immediately chucked the screen away, facing it down onto the bed, “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Chan said, trying to peer over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you tried to roll away, but he wrapped an arm around your waist, reaching for your phone with his free hand. You pleaded for him to not look, and he did exactly the opposite. 

Chan watched your drunk self confessing to him on the phone from that night. No matter how hard you’d try to wriggle out of his grasp and steal your phone back, he was too strong for you to do so. When the part where you handed your phone to Changbin came up, Hyunjin flipped the camera back to selfie mode to display his face. 

Hyunjin drunkenly pointed his index finger at the camera, trying to prove a point. “And that’s how you get back at Jisung and Y/N.” Several moments later, his eyes widened, “OH My GOD, Y/N.” 

You guessed the recording ended when you threw up. Not a good memory.

Your mouth went agape. Hyunjin did both you and Jisung dirty. 

“I’m going to kill him,” you said, clenching your fist. 

“And I’m going to screen record that from my phone,” Chan laughed, extending his arm to the desk for his phone until you pushed his shoulders back down. He landed onto the bed with a light thud, wrapping his arms around your waist again. Chan stared at your flushed cheeks, softly chuckling at your persistence to prevent him from watching your most embarrassing moment in life once more.

You glanced down to his lips, admiring his prominent cupid’s bow and held in a breath. Chan stared into your eyes, his eyes trailing down your nose, and then to your lips lovingly. Grinning like a fool, he was happy to have you as his and in his arms. Chan bit his lip, stopping the softest smile from spreading across his lips. He knew he failed to keep his cool. While his grip on your waist loosened, he brought a hand to your cheek, gently cupping it with his smooth palm. 

Chan leaned in, a small smirk quirking at the corner of his lips when you nervously gulped. You didn’t even have time to think because his lips were suddenly on yours. Chan pressed on slowly, grabbing your thigh to hitch you closer to him. You fluttered your eyes shut, savoring the taste of his lips as he took control. Chan loved the feeling of having your hands run down from his shoulders and to his chest. He’s honestly the master of the teasing game, lightly nipping at your bottom lip and flicking his tongue at the entrance of your mouth. Before he could deepen the kiss, he flipped you over, so that you’d be lying under him instead. Chan didn’t know where the night would take him and you didn’t either. 

But it is what it is, so he made sure to lock the door, just in case.

[i-jus-wanna-writehappy]

Glory

Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. THIS IS SMUT. 18+. 

Author’s Note: Welp, I stayed up until 4:11 just to finish this. It’s the longest piece I have ever written, so, if you think my pieces are always too short and not sweet enough, hopefully this can make up for it. Also, this has been in my drafts for weeks and up until 3:59 this morning, it was titled Delicate. Glory literally wasn’t in here once until this morning.

Tags: @thotyana-in-this-hoe @neeadinghugs 

Masterlist 

*     *     *     *     *

Poe can’t help it as his eyes shift to you every few minutes as you talk with Finn. Everyone is out getting drinks after a smooth mission and you treat everyone out with you to a free round. You and Finn laugh your way through two shots before he has to rush to the refresher to vomit all he’s drank.

“Is he alright?” Rey chuckles, leaning against you, slight concern making its way into her voice. You can’t stop the laugh that pushes from your lips as you take another small sip from the large cup you ordered before Finn suggested something stronger, “He will be.” Rey huffs with a smile before leaning in closer to you so she can talk without being heard and completely throwing off Poe’s groove.

“Poe... Poe! Are you even listening?” Rose asks, her brow furrowed as she shakes the pilot out of his stupor. “Yeah, yeah, of course I’m listening. The story is hilarious. I just got worried about Finn, you’ve got my full attention.” Poe wants so badly to give all of his attention to the group surrounding him, but you’re laughing with Rey and swaying to the music playing and he can’t stop his eyes from looking to you. Shift. You and Rey are leaning on each other laughing. Shift. You give Rey a nod, shrugging a shoulder as you feign indifference. Shift. You’re both downing the last of your drinks. Shift. You’re not there any more. Shit, you aren’t there anymore. Poe’s head whips around as he tries to see where you and Rey could have disappeared to so quickly.

Realizing that you and Rey have left before he could make his big move, which he is definitely going to do tonight, Poe flashes his audience a charming smile, “I apologize, you’re right, Rose, my mind is a little flighty, there’s a mission issue I need to discuss and I just know it’s gonna bug me all night if I don’t just go take care of it. Save the good stories til I get back?” He asks, backing away from the group. Rose purses her lips like she knows that Poe is up to something, but instead of calling him out, she waves him off, “Yeah yeah, we’ll save the good ones til you get back.” Raising his drink to her, Poe turns around and sets the bottle on the counter before finally making his way outside.

There are a few people talking and laughing right outside the cantina and Poe almost wishes he didn’t leave BB-8 to charge so the little droid could do it’s thing and find you. The more reasonable part of him knows that BB would probably embarrass him incredibly. Either way, he’s on his own, so Poe just turns right and begins walking. It isn’t long before he steps into an expanse of trees, and Poe is almost ready to turn around and try going left when he hears your shriek. His heart starts racing in panic and Poe sets off in a run, quickly slowing himself down when he hears that the shriek is followed by a laugh. The slower pace gives Poe just small enough steps to trip over something. He catches himself on a nearby tree, and when he looks down, Poe realizes that he’s tripped over a jacket.

More specifically, he’s tripped over your jacket.

The discovery piques Poe’s interest just a little more than he’d care to admit. Grabbing the jacket, Poe follows the sound of your voice and Rey’s laughter. The ground begins to get a little softer beneath his feet and Poe’s pants tighten when his mind concludes there’s a body of water nearby. You and Rey could just be relaxing with your feet in the water. That isn’t the thought that excites Poe though, what excites Poe is the idea of you and Rey being in the water. What all did you keep on in the water? Oh, Maker, what all did you take off?

His questions are answered when he approaches and sees Rey’s bare shoulders and back sticking out of the water. “That’s definitely unfair! I am not Force sensitive, so I think that because you got to both cheat and catch me off guard, I should get to dunk your head under water.” Rey snorts and wraps her arms around herself, “Are you sure that you’re the best negotiator we have?” Your laugh rings through the air again and Poe realizes that he’s peeking at you from behind a tree like a child. He also realizes that he can’t quite move so he isn’t. You’re ducked into the water up to your chin, also refusing to move, but when Rey groans and lifts her arms, admitting defeat, you approach her, the water revealing more and more of you the closer you get until all of you is out down to your belly button. Out and definitely naked. Poe closes his eyes for a while, able now to take complete cover behind the tree nearest him.

First things first, Stars, you’re gorgeous and Poe has no idea if there’s any way he’ll be able to look at you ever again without thinking of you, completely naked and soaking wet. And now thinking about it, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to do that without getting almost painfully hard. Maker, how is he gonna make his move? Does he wait for you to get out? That would be the gentlemanly thing to do. He could step out with a dashing smile and ask Rey to give the two of you a moment of privacy. This doesn’t have to be weird.

Yeah, yeah, it doesn’t have to be weird at all. Not at all. Not weird or anything like it. Poe is a grown man! He’s seen naked women before. And you are a grown woman, and surely people have seen your naked body before. And then he’s hit with an awful realization. Rey. Shit, you’re both just frolicking around naked, together. Maker, what if he’s just being a pretentious asshole and you aren’t attracted to -

“Fuck! I um - General Dameron.” Poe jumps, turning around, he realizes that he has been pacing in his thinking and has moved from behind the tree. “Poe? Are you alright?” Rey asks, seeing Poe’s shocked face. Both of you have dipped beneath the water so that all can be seen is your heads. And now, all of Poe’s ideas are completely shot. He’s right in front of you and he has not gotten his shit together yet. “You don’t have to call me General, Y/N, I’m not used to it myself. But uh, if you get a second, can I speak with you about a mission I’ve been thinkin bout sending you on? With security detail, of course.”

You start to get up to scramble around for your clothes, but you remember that you’re naked and settle back down in the water. “Of course, I have a minute now. Could I have a second to get dressed?” Poe isn’t sure if he should be excited or dreading the moment as he begins stepping away with his raging hard-on still jutting out of his pants. “I will just be a few feet out, take your time.” Poe answers, your jacket clutched before him. Not until he’s out of ear shot does Poe lose it a little, clenching his fist and biting softly at his knuckles, groaning around them. It occurs to him the time he saw you kissing that newer pilot a while back, he was a man, so maybe he does have chance? And don’t Rey and Finn have that whole ‘will they, won’t they’ thing going on purpose? So that makes his chances a bit better, well, at least with the kid gone - he was lost on a mission not too long after you were seen locking lips. The thought makes Poe feel awful, but his erection is softening, so he can’t be too upset with himself.

Rey, on the other hand, is entirely delighted by the situation, no holds barred at all. As soon as she’s sure Poe is out of ear shot, Rey barks a laugh so loud it startles you as you make your way out of the water. “He’s almost forgotten he’s General now? Poe reminds me at least once every other day that I’m lucky he doesn’t have me call him General Dameron.” She teases, splashing water at your back. You suck your teeth and pull your pants on over your damp legs, foregoing your underwear for the sake of your comfort. “Well, the two of you are friends, Rey, that’s friendly teasing. This was just professional prattle.”

“Or...” Rey drawls, following you out of the water and dressing before speaking again, “Maybe, General Dameron has a crush. I reckon he wanted your little secret meeting to be as private as possible,” Rey teases, head tilted suggestively, “So, I’ll buy you a drink and keep it warm, yeah?” You want to tell Rey that you’re sure that the talk will only take as long as the walk back to the cantina, but she’s already started walking off and you aren’t sure how close Poe is, and, the idea of Poe having crush on you is a little exciting, so you just leave the idea as it is and hold your shoes and underwear in hand as you search for Poe.

It isn’t too long before you catch up to Poe. Rey passed him just a minute ago, giving him a once over before smirking and leaving him with a, “Have fun, General Dameron.” When you arrive, you’re holding some of your clothes, and Poe has to remind himself to not spend too much time admiring how your wet skin makes your clothes stick to you, especially not now that he’s finally got himself just half hard.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t end up taking too long. Is walking and talking fine?” You greet Poe, almost sheepishly, your smile conveying any apologies on your part. “Yeah, yeah, we can walk and talk. Are your uh, feet gonna be okay without the shoes?” Poe asks, slipping into his natural charm as he points at your shoes. Laughing, you begin walking first, “Oh, they’ll be fine. I walked in plenty worse places barefoot as a child.” You reassure Poe before rubbing a bead of water on your forearm into your skin, “But, this mission. Are we looking to settle on another planet and use an old Rebel base? Need to negotiate for cheaper prices on our repair parts?”

Poe lets go of your jacket with one of his hands, wiping it against his pants, “I uh, I actually lied. I came looking for you to ask you out, and then I saw you in all your naked glory and panicked.” Poe is nervous about what your response might be, but a soft chuckle is not one of the things he expected to hear, “I don’t know if my nakedness has ever been referred to as ‘glory’ before.” Poe’s relief almost rolls off of him in a wave. He shoots you a quick smile and shrugs his shoulder, the cantina coming into view, “Really? Surely that was only due to the inability to articulate. Glory does that some times. Especially naked glory.”

Much to Poe’s surprise, you don’t go straight for the entrance, instead leading him to walk around the building at your leisurely pace. “You know, Rey said you might have a crush on me.” You say nonchalantly, not even looking at Poe. He would step a little more cautiously if this was how the conversation started, but the banter makes him a little more confident in his chances, so Poe moves so he’s standing in front of you, stopping completely. “Would that be a bad thing? If I liked you?” Now at a standstill, you look Poe right in his eyes before smiling, “It’d actually be a bit of a relief. It’s a little awkward to pretend unrequited adoration isn’t there.”

Another wave of relief from Poe. He uses his free hand to rub his curls back into place, their order disappearing as soon as Poe lowers his hand, “Adoration? Oh, I don’t think that was the word I used.” His response makes you laugh and before you can calm down, Poe leans in, “Can I kiss you?” You don’t answer, instead shifting your belongings in your arms and using your now free hand to bury into Poe’s curls and pull his mouth to you. That is answer enough for Poe though as he drops your now almost unrecognizably dirty jacket and wraps both of his arms around you to pull you closer. Your lips are just as soft as he always imagined and your nipples rub at his chest through his shirt, completely undoing the work he put in to getting rid of his erection.

Poe pulls away, one hand now cradling your face and a wide smile on his face matching yours, “Can I kiss you again?” You laugh again, dropping your shoes and underwear so you can embrace him properly, both arms wrapping around Poe in a strong embrace. The lack of barrier between your bottom halves makes Poe’s erection evident to you now and your moan into his mouth quickly changes the energy of the kiss. Where you were once giggling into each other’s mouths, now you’re grinding against each other and drowning your whimpers and groans in the mouth of the other.

Shifting your arms so they’re both over Poe’s shoulders, you jump up and wrap your legs around Poe’s waist, fingernails scratching at his scalp as you tug at his hair, “Is this okay with you?” You ask Poe between kisses as you map your way to the extra sensitive part of his neck. Wanting to use his arms for more than holding you up, Poe walks until your back is against the cantina, the back door cool against his fingers, “Sweetheart, I don’t think anything has been okay until now.” The end of the statement is choked out when you finally find Poe’s soft spot and drag the tip of your tongue along the skin right at the lobe of his ear.

Feeling the need to return the favor, Poe pushes his hips closer to you to help you and the wall in keeping you up before letting his hands roam. His hands find the hem of your shirt first, the warm wet fabric leaving the same feeling on your skin. You sigh out loud as Poe’s fingers inch up and brush softly against your nipples. “Maker, that feels good.” You whimper as you take Poe’s lobe between your teeth and scratch your nails across the nape of his neck just hard enough to make him hiss. Poe pinches your nipple in his fingers and uses his other hand to squeeze at your thigh as he begins to thrust his hips into yours.

You rest your head on the door behind you and roll your hips in needy circles, “Later Poe, we can do it later, but I really just wanna have your dick in me right now.” The declaration makes Poe’s cock jump in his pants and he decides that, yes, he can explore your body later. “You’re gonna have to be a little quieter if we’re gonna fuck right here right now, sweetheart.” Poe warns as he sets you down. You’d believe he was chastising you if he didn’t have a cocky smile slapped across his mouth. “And that goes for both of us?” You ask with a giggle as you work Poe’s pants and briefs down just enough to release his red, leaking cock from its harsh confines. “Fuck,” You groan. Poe gives you a quick look, his hands stilling on your pants to make sure everything is still alright. When your eyes lock, you pull his face closer to yous and speak just against his lips, “Glory.” You whisper before pressing your lips to his softly.

Poe giggles softly against your mouth as he finally works your pants down to your knees, the wetness of the material making the short trek a little harder than usual. Hands cupping the underside of your thighs, Poe helps you to your tiptoes, lips disconnecting from yours in anticipation. Poe’s hot breath fans against your lips as he lets you slip a little, feeling just the tip of his dick slide into you. In an attempt to keep quiet, you clench your teeth, but the sound is determined and a soft growl rumbles in your chest and the entire situation makes Poe shudder, his dick swelling even more just at the thought of finally having you, here, even if not in the most comfortable - or convenient - of spots.

“Y/N, I’m gonna let some more in, but sweetheart, I need you to try a little harder to keep those pretty little noises to yourself, alright?” You don’t have to say it out loud, Poe feels you nod against him, and he has to remember to practice what he’s preaching as he lowers you all the way. Feeling your chest rumble with sounds unmade, Poe buries his face into the crook of your neck. The heat of your skin and the heat wrapped around him feeling too good to be true.

“I need, Poe, please - please, I need you to move.” You whine, squeezing your walls around him just to feel some kind of friction. Poe knows he needs to move. He can feel what should be the best orgasm he’s had in a long time stirring within him, and he doesn’t know how quiet, how sane, how strong he can stay while fucking into you. But he’s got to do something, so focusing his mouth on licking at the salted stretches of your neck and his arms on wrapping tightly around you, Poe pulls his hips back as far as he can, as slow as he can. “General Dameron, fuck me please.” The end of your whispered plea is cut off by a grunt when Poe shoots his hips forward with as much speed and ferocity and he can manage with you both so close together.

Removing one of his arms from around you, Poe moves it to the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder to muffle the sigh that leaves your mouth. Once again, Poe pulls out slowly, only to punch back in again. One of your hands has found its way to the curls at the nape of Poe’s neck and holds them in a tight grip, making Poe whimper into your neck. “Maker, sweetheart, your pussy feels better than anything I’ve ever had.” His words have you moaning into the warmth of his shirt, the material dampening from the heat of your panting.

You want to say something clever. To pull away from Poe and tell him to wait until you’re actually doing something as you smirk smugly when the words make him groan at the thought of you doing this again. Of you pushing him onto a bed and riding him so hard his pelvis is bruised and he can’t make any more noise his throat is so sore. But you feel quite the same, so instead of making yourself the protagonist in a cheesy sex scene, you lift one of your legs up and clench around Poe again. To both of your surprise, Poe’s knees get weak at the feeling, and he knows that if there wasn’t the door supporting you, that he’d have fallen to the ground and taken you with him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, please do that again.” Poe begs, his hand going from your head to gripping at your elevated thigh. “Ah, yeah, come on sweetheart, you feel so good. Wanna feel what your pussy does around me when I shoot into you. Can we do that?” Poe whines into your skin as he peppers it with wet kisses, hot licks of his tongue gracing your skin at every peck and driving you insane. “Maker, yes. Whatever you want.” Poe exhales a laugh, his breath quickening as he feels his orgasm approaching, “Fuck me, sweetheart, You know what I’m gonna do?” Poe grunts, his short fingernails leaving crescent indents in your skin as his thrusts become haphazard and a whine begins to make its way into each of his breaths. Giving a single breath chuckle, you push a stray curl from Poe’s forehead, “Cum?”

The remark sobers Poe a little and he lifts his head from your chest and rests his forehead on yours so you can look right in his eyes, “That’s right, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum in you. And then I’m gonna keep thrusting into you until your throat is sore from keeping quiet. And before you can cum, I’m gonna get down on my knees and lick all evidence of this out of you. I’m gonna suck on that clit of yours until your legs are shaking and you’re afraid you’re gonna rip all my hair out at the root.” The way Poe’s grunts and whimpers cut him off makes it evident that his filthy words are helping him get off too.

Now you don’t care much at all about being clever or witty, the throbbing of Poe’s cock inside you is intoxicating and all you can think about is the warmth of his cum as it shoots inside you, coating your insides and pulling your own orgasm from it’s concentrated place. “Poe,” You whisper, your body so tense as it clenches around Poe that your voice won’t get any louder, “General Dameron, I’m only gonna ask once that you fuck that cum into me right now before I push you down and take it.” As much as Poe wants to hold on for that, and he wants to so badly that his eyes well up with tears, Poe Dameron has never been able to hold his orgasm when it came to dirty talk, and especially not when referred to by his title.

A whimper falls from Poe’s mouth, and he makes sure to shove his mouth onto yours to quiet his grunts and enamored wails of your name. Poe pulls your pelvis as close to his as he can, opting for pushing you down onto his dick as far as he can get you rather than thrusting up into you as he releases. As your tongue easily beats Poe’s for dominance, you feel a tear slip into the crevice of your faces and soak into your skin. It takes one blink from you to realize that the tear is not from you, but from Poe, and if his mouth wasn’t muffling you, you probably would have audibly gasped. Yeah, you’ve been fucked to the point of crying orgasmic tears, but you’ve never brought a man to that point. And if he’s being honest, it hasn’t ever happened to Poe before so he’s rather surprised as well. But as his hips stutter and you take his bottom lip between your teeth, Poe is even more surprised he isn’t full on bawling.

Poe doesn’t remove his mouth from yours until all of his cum has been shot into you and when he does, he looks like he’s been drinking all night. Eyes blown and watery, lips swollen, and a lazy, but ecstatic grin on his face, Poe takes one of his hands from your thighs to rub your clit at a leisurely pace. “I think I made you a promise, sweetheart.” Poe rasps, coming back to himself a bit. With a pinched groan, Poe pulls his half hard cock from inside of you and drops to his knees. As much as he would have loved to keep his cock sheathed in you until you refused to hold him there any more, he couldn’t wait to taste you and have your cum smeared around his cheeks and chin while he devoured you.

“Maker, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” Poe admires softly, so soft, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even really talking to you. Pushing your legs open more, Poe licks a stripe of dripping cum from your thigh up to your slit, humming in satisfaction at the taste of your skin, of the two of you combined. Poe takes a deep breath and you think he’s going to say something, but instead, he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder and wraps his lips around your clit, moving his thumb to your entrance and teasing you with it as he pushes the thick digit barely into you. Poe sucks on your clit like he needs it and nuzzles his nose against your pelvis, wanting to be as close to you as he can.

Your hands fumble, from your hair, to your breasts, and to Poe’s hair as you struggle to not grind on his face. Noticing your struggle, Poe removes his thumb from your opening and his mouth from your clit, “Cover your mouth.” You grumble at the loss of his mouth on you and give his hair a quick tug in question. Poe licks another stream of cum from your quivering inner thigh, “I’m not up there to muffle you, I need you to do it yourself.” Poe explains, his eyes lighting up like he’s just received a present as he pulls your other leg up to rest on his free shoulder. The change makes you gasp, and you flatten your back to the door, “Poe, we just fucked, you shouldn’t be holding me up, I don’t -” Poe cuts you off, looking up into your eyes for the first time since falling to his knees, “Y/N, I don’t care if my back is broken. I want you where you can grind your pussy all over my face, and I like where we are now. Is that okay with you?” He gets his answer when you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth and push his face as close as you can to your dripping cunt, now more your juices than his.

Poe gives your inner thigh a quick bite before covering your heat with his mouth. Maker, had he known you’d taste this good, that you’d get this wet for him, Poe would have asked to kiss you much earlier. Poe sticks his tongue in your entrance and licks around as if he were exploring your mouth. You’re delicious and your squirms intensify as Poe rubs firm circles onto your clit with his thumb. You mumble something from behind your hands and if this had been a few hours earlier, Poe would probably think you were crying, and you probably were now, but he gets the gist of what you said; I’m close.

For a moment, Poe is sad that he’ll have to stop eating you out so soon, but then a disgusting thought runs through his mind and circles for a few more laps. Pulling back from your dripping cunt to deliver kitten licks to your clit, Poe caresses the top of your thigh, “Y/N, sweetheart, do you trust me?” He can’t hear your response, so Poe looks up to see you have indeed shed a few tears. When his eyes meet yours, you nod again, pumping your hips impatiently. The wicked smile Poe gives you is almost enough to still you, “Can I try something? Just to get you off?” Your mind sparks, but with lustful curiosity rather than fear. When you whimper and nod again, Poe looks like he wants to pump his fist victoriously, but instead, he delves right back into your folds, resuming his teasing of your clit with his thumb. Poe’s mouth isn’t back on you right away and you’re curious until he takes his hand from your leg and pulls his thumb into his mouth, covering it with saliva until it was dripping down his wrist.

Poe’s mouth is back on you then and your neck hurts from craning it to watch him. Poe lets the fingers of his free hand graze over your ass, and just before you can ask him to speed up, Poe rubs his thumb against your tight puckered hole. Moving your hands from your mouth to Poe’s sweat dampened curls, you grip them tightly in warning. Poe nods against you and just barely pushes his thumb in before your hips jut against his face and your thighs squeeze his head tightly. A sharp cry of Poe’s name starts to make its way out of your mouth, but you slap one of your hands over your mouth and bite the skin there instead.

Your orgasm feels like you’re back in the water: as soon as a wave makes its way to your feet, another one starts at your head again and rocks you to your core. Your orgasm hits you so hard that you barely notice Poe setting your feet back on the ground and kissing at your hips as he keeps his thumb rubbing over your clit to help you ride out your high. Once you’ve recovered yourself, you’re on the ground across from Poe and his shit eating grin.”Was that okay?” He asks you, finishing closing his pants. You go to do yours, but realize Poe has already done it for you. Giving a breathless laugh, you shake your head at Poe, “I don’t think anything has been okay until now.”

Poe laughs and shuffles so he’s sitting beside you, “You wanna go in and get a drink or stay out here for a little bit longer?” Snuggling into Poe’s side, you rest your head on him, “I uh, I don’t think I can mingle or walk right now.” Poe huffs, amused and wraps his arm around you, “Great because I don’t think I can either.” Completely content in your situation, you almost doze off, but before sleep can take you, Poe gives you a squeeze, “So... glory, huh?” He asks, making you snort and give him a soft kiss. “What’s better than glory? Cause you got it.”