#like no actually my being unhealthy is harming no one besides myself

[illandtired]

about me<3 (tw)

Hello, I’m 17 and I’m gonna try to take my life again on my 18th birthday.

(Sorry, this jumps around a lot.)

(And it’s long….)

Also heavy topics, literally almost every trigger warning in the book.

This blog is gonna literally be my diary. I’ve attempted to make me life multiple times in the past for multiple different reasons.

I’m seventeen and I currently live alone in my mother’s house, she lives with her boyfriend. I had my biological dad who left before I was born and two step fathers. The only one I “care” about is my most recent. He entered my life when I was 6 and since then I tried telling my mother about him but for some reason it took until I was 16 for her to divorce him. He abused me severely. When I told him I was suicidal the first time he said he was gonna go get his gun then proceeded to make me beg for my life. I was I believe 12 or 13, a lot of it’s a blur like most of my life.

I don’t want to go too much into my past and make this too long, I started smoking weed in 8th grade. By 9th I was doing lines of random shit I got from kids at school off the bathroom toilets. I have touched most stuff besides heroin. The one drug I promised my mother I would stay away from. Currently I am still hooked on opioids, SSRIs, and I smoke weed/thc carts every day.

I was 6 when I was diagnosed with adhd, severe anxiety and depression. I haven’t seen a doctor since. My mother swears she’s trying to get me in but she always complains about how much my meds cost. She knows my worries about my mental state and I swear it’s impossible to get the help I need.

I’ve always been a paranoid person but it’s getting worse by the day. I’m genuinely too scared to take the trash out because I feel 800 eyes on me. I feel like there’s invisible people constantly around me judging my every move. I don’t feel real some times, and not that life is a simulation shit, I genuinely don’t feel like I’m in my body.

I started self harming in 3rd grade. It started as me being a wrist and head banger but by 5th grade I had started using thumb tacks and scratching myself. I went to my step father and he told me they weren’t Deep enough and I was just looking for attention. By 6th grade I was actually cutting, but only to where I barely saw the blood. By 8th it got to the point where I needed to see the blood run. But I’ve managed to get back to only getting it to bead up, occasionally running. I was clean for quite a few months but the smallest, SMALEST thing can set me back so much.

I’ve struggled my entire life with starving myself, binge eating, then starving myself. I’ve been an unhealthy weight a lot of my life. I’m around 240lbs now, my eating disorder is mainly starving now. My “Binges” are now small.

I have never been able to make a phone call to someone besides friends. Even family calls are hard a lot. I can barely order food at a restaurant, fancy or McDonald’s.

I’ve made money in my life from stealing, I’ve been a kleptomaniac for as long as I can remember. But I also made money doing bakery stuff for my mother, doing mechanical stuff, and babysitting. My only “legal” job was working at McDonald’s. I got fired a year after starting because we had a new manager who fired me over homophobic reasons. I hated going to work. I loved the work itself, but I hated having to be around anyone.

I’ve always been called lazy. And I feel like it’s true, I can barely find the motivation to get up to take a piss most days. I had such a hard time with organization and cleanliness as a kid so I always had a messy room, unless it was right after one of the days I got my stuff thrown away.

I never payed attention in school yet I somehow got straight As until i genuinely didn’t care anymore. I dropped out 10th grade on my 16th birthday. School was so much worse for my mental health. I was self harming almost every day, lying to myself about who I am to fit in.

I actually love learning, I wanted to get into nursing school but I know I’ll never get clean enough. I even study biology, trig, physics, crime scene investigation, all sorts of stuff. I have notebooks and notebooks that I’ve filled with information I’ll never use.

I was 10 when I got my first boyfriend. He was 18, a relationship on discord. It lasted a couple years at least. I was sexually assaulted multiple times growing up and I don’t wanna go into more detail in this post. But due to my sexual trauma i became very hyper sexual very young. I still am to this day, I sell pictures to creepy men online because I know I won’t be able to get any other job. But at the same time it’s basically been implemented in my brain I’m good for sex and nothing more. I feel so utterly disgusted with myself after every sexual experience in my life from sex to just sending nudes.

I grew up a chubby girl with big tits. It was 6th grade i started having boys desperate to touch them. I had Ds by then. I’m a F-G now (depends on the bra). My own step father and his sons who were much older than me started sexualizing me when I was about 13. One of my step brother was creepy since he entered my life.

I’ve had so many important parts of my life taken from me. My Virginity with a man was raped away when I was 14 on Christmas. My self worth was barely existent but it was gone completely by 9th grade. My first “good boyfriend” was when I was 15, he was 18. He filmed us one night after I asked him not to multiple times, but the next day a video of me having my brains fucked out was all over my school. It was a smaller school, but even some of the female teachers sided with him because he was the “king” of the school. I missed my middle school graduation which doesn’t seem like much to most people, but I knew I was going to drop out and never have a high school graduation. I was even selected to write a speech and go up and speak at the podium but due to anxiety from both situations I missed the whole thing entirely because I tried to kill myself that night.

Most of my attempts have been overdose attempts, and that’s for a reason. I couldn’t imagine my mother finding me and my brains splattered on the wall. But out of everything, no it’s not my mother that’s kept me alive. It’s been my best friend. I live in the states and he lives in Scotland. We’ve been friends for years, we met through my ex and were completely like the opposite of each other but we care about each other. And unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to meet him. We were going to meet when I turn eighteen because he’ll be turning 21 and can legally drink here, I can legally drink there.

I care about nothing more than him and it pains me that I know he will be disappointed when he realizes I gave up. I don’t plan on telling him anything.. we have a thing where if he’s gone for a month he’s on a mental health break, but two months he’s dead and I have his permission to kill myself. I’m going to tell him he has to wait a year for me because I might be in the mental hospital.

Back to simple things I can’t do, I would rather claw my own eyes out than be alone with a man in a room. But my best friend is the one exception. I haven’t gone on a date since new years. As soon as we got to his house, it wasn’t even 5 minutes before he had a gun pressed in my side.

Yet at the same time I feel like my only purpose is to make men happy in any way I can. Even if it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to do it. Because that’s all I’ve ever been good at and praised for.

There was about a week in my life and it was somewhat recent. I told myself I wasn’t going to attempt again because no matter what life won’t suck that bad. Being homeless was the happiest time of my life, sure I can be on the street and cold, no money, but I no longer have responsibilities and I get to walk which I love doing. I used to sneak out at night and go on long ass walks normally from 10pm to 3-5am.

More things about substances, once again I’m sorry for jumping around. I started smoking cigarettes in 6th grade, provided by my step father and girlfriend. I started drinking in 8th grade but now it takes half a bottle of tequila for me to be at a happy level of drunk. Or 4 bottles of cheap wine, or an entire bottle of rum. Anyways I feel like I’m rambling on and on so I’m gonna try to wrap this up.

What’s the main reason I want to kill myself? Because I know I will never be able to live a normal life. But my one goal as a kid was to make it to 18.

[gralunaisland]

One thing that grosses me out abt Gruviugh shippers besides like a bunch of other things is that they call a child a "lovechild" like even if it's fictional that's a child, not some object to "prove" their ship. It reeks of "I only care about myself and my enjoyment of this ship and not what it could say about me and my worldview"

The Dark Side of a Gr///vian "Love Child"

Oh man, I dont think I’ve heard about them using that term, but just hearing the term "love child" gives me a cringey feeling. I actually wasn't sure what it meant so I looked it up, and apparently it means "a child conceived through lust (usually a one-night thing). The parents never marry and sometimes never see each other again". In other words, it means "the illegitimate offspring of unmarried parents".

What we must note here is "illegitimate" and "unmarried".

Let me preface this by saying that I don't think people have been thinking that deeply about this, and I'm sure most people who make fanon ship children don't mean any harm.

However, there are some criticisms to be made.

Moving on, now, I have no clue if this is an unpopular opinion, and feel free to disagree with me, but I think kids should be born within wedlock because it statistically tends to be a more stable home (though of course it doesn't guarantee anything). It at least shows that the parents can be in a committed relationship recognized by law, which hopefully means they'll both stick around more since they're legally obligated to.

That's where the illegitimate comes in. A legitimate kid in the eyes of the law means that the child comes from a married couple, and that allows the child to be entitled to child support in case of a divorce and to receive an inheritance. If the couple is not married, that makes the kid illegitimate, and that means the father is not obligated at all to take care of the kid.

All that to say, it's super gross if people call the made-up kids of gr///via "love children" because, if they know what the term means, they're basically saying they just want Gray and juvia to have kids and don't care if the kid's life has the added stability that would come with having married parents. They clearly just want it to be canon that Gray and juvia have had sex.

That would just show that they don't really care if Gray and juvia have a solid foundation for a relationship (though, let's face it, even if they were married, they already lack a solid foundation because of juvia's abuse), which is essential for bringing children into this world and raising them. Whether they mean this or not, this is just another instance of certain Pros promoting unhealthy dynamics for these two, only this time it's almost worse since it includes another human being, a child, as well.

They would rather focus on the "lust" aspect of what a love child entails, which totally throws the kid by the wayside.

That means they only conjured up the kid just because it helps to "validate" gr///via. You put it perfectly, saying that the child's sole reason for existing is to prove the "love" between Gray and juvia, which literally reduces the character to being an object, a plot device, a ship device. The kid becomes a mere product of "doing the nasty" that's "evidence" for a ship and nothing more.

And yes, before anyone goes thinking I'm just saying all this to be a stick in the mud (though I admit I am one x_x) I understand people not caring that much about fanon children of ships, because they're made up and just for fun mostly. I'd say most of it is harmless probably.

However, still, I agree with Anon, that it's icky to throw insensitive terms around, and doing so exposes these fans' intentions of just trying to find even more (uncanonical) avenues to bind Gray and juvia together, as if they didn't already have years of abuse and shoehorning and character assassination doing that job for these two. It's less malicious and more thoughtless of these fans.

All in all, I'm not saying, "don't ever create fanart or fanfics of children from your favorite ships!", I'm just saying let's not reduce them to being ship devices. It would be great if thoughtfulness could be given to them, because I don't think treating children, even fictional ones, flippantly is a great thing to promote.

And y'all all know my stance on fiction affecting reality.

Anyway, thank you so much for your ask and your patience, Anon! Sorry for taking forever and a day to get to it! I hope this post made some semblance of sense, because even I was getting confused. I hadn't thought about the ramifications of a "love child" before.

And sorry to the rest of my readers for being AWOL, having to deal with lots of stressors nowadays, but hopefully it'll get better soon!

Have an amazing day, everyone!

[jcmsstuff]

a little presentation about myself and my blog, even if I have survived years without one.

(ok, this is being added later but, this is basically has become the story of my life apparently)

so, my name obviously is nico, I'm an autistic 19 yo and I'm trans ftm. I maybe also have adhd but for now it's just self diagnosed.

I've kinda struggled with food in various way for all of my life. when I was little I was really picky with food (it was sensory issues related) and I also had some intestine issues so I was really skinny and making me eat was a challenge. my family didn't really help but rather forced me to eat so, now I have this complex towards finishing everything that is in the plate in front of me. I also did a really strict diet for some years to help me cope with my intestines problem and it actually disappeared, so I guess that was fine. after that I had actually a lot of years where I didn't care much, beside some residual pickiness, and I enjoyed eating. then puberty started and after figuring out that I was trans, I got really bad dysphoria and I got depressed (like fr). all that spiralling led me to a really bad relationship with my body and consequently with food. I started restricting but that also led me to binging, and from that on we can pretty much say that idk how a normal size meal look like anymore.

so years passed and now I'm here still struggling with restrictive - binge cicle and sometimes with other food related stuff like not being able to eat certain texture and stuff.

I also struggle with self-destructive habits like: cutting (not so much anymore, but still), unhealthy relationship with alcohol, occasional smoking (which I don't like or enjoy, I just do it to harm myself), and not really good relationship with sleeping pills.

my blog isn't make to encourage the behaviour described above, if you do even one of them I strongly believe that you should seek professional help.

this is the only place where I allow myself to talk about this kind of behaviour and it helps me cope greatly, so if you're trigger by it or in recovery or just don't wanna see this kind of content just block me.

please don't report me, I grew really attached to this blog and I don't use tags that actually spread this kind of content beyond the community that relate to it and use it to cope.

[jinxed-venting]

a few things i need to make known about this post and my past regarding the topics mentioned in this post before i continue:

trigger warnings include: crime, drug abuse/addiction, homelessness, the criminal justice system (i'm from the united states so i'll be focusing on that), poor coping mechanisms (self-harm, etc), abuse, ableism, and overall triggering subjects

i was in the legal system starting at 13 until i was 16. for a large chunk of this (from the ages of 13 to 15) i was in a group home for youth (fuck the troubled teen industry, that's an entirely different can of worms i will not open here though).

i have experience with self-harm to the point i would say i have an addiction to it. it's not something i'm proud of but it heavily influences my view on self-harm (that being it usually starts as a coping mechanism and spirals into an addiction).

this is largely me venting about my issues with the united states criminal justice system and legal system generally. if that bothers you, please don't read this post.

"people have more empathy for criminals than law abiding citizens"

or maybe some of us have actually been through the fucking legal system as teenagers and understand that criminals usually have something deeper going on besides just deciding crime would be fun??

general issues i have with how crime is talked about

non-violent robbery and burglary both exist

plenty of the people (but not all) who have robbed or committed burglary in the past are likely not stable enough to be able to afford things on their own. on the other hand, some thieves suffer from kleptomania; being thrown in prison is not going to help a kleptomaniac recover from their kleptomania.

drug addicts should NOT be thrown in prison for being drug addicts; they should be offered treatment and if they decline, make sure they're safe. i am 100% in support of harm reduction facilities (which would allow drug users to continue to use drugs but have immediate access to medical care should they accidentally overdose). if someone gets aggressive or violent when they're high, yes, that's an issue that needs to be taken care of.

systemic issues exist that make certain minority groups more likely to be found guilty of a crime they didn't commit; there are way too many stories of people minorities who were accused of heinous crimes, convicted, and either spent most of their lives in prison or were executed before they could be proven innocent.

drug addiction: risk factors

family history - if you have a family history of drug addiction, you're at a higher chance of becoming addicted yourself.

certain medications you're taking - from what i know, this is actually the most common cause of opioid addiction. this is why people want the pharmaceutical industry held responsible for the opioid crisis. as far as i know a similar thing can happen with benzodiazepines (which was one of my anxieties when i was prescribed xanax). i'm not addicted to sertraline but i am dependent on it, as i found that when i stopped taking it i was emotionally incapable of functioning properly. whether this is because i am actually dependent on it or because it's just been helping me that much i would not be able to tell you.

mental illness - for plenty of mentally ill people, myself included, this is something we don't like admitting, but mental health issues lead people to unhealthy coping mechanisms, including drug addiction. back to my previous point, part of my anxiety with being given xanax was that i would lose control of myself and start taking it outside of how it was prescribed and end up addicted to it that way. thankfully i took one dose, passed out, and decided i didn't like it, so i'm not taking it. my mental health issues have made me tempted to try other drugs though, the main thing stopping me being i have no clue how i'd get my grubby little paws on them.

homelessness

people really like to act like people are homeless by choice for some reason. i'm currently still living with my grandparents and don't know when (or frankly even if) i'll leave because i'm not able to be independent (mostly due to disability, that disability being epilepsy). people who are homeless are not homeless by choice. so let's go through a list.

there is an upsetting amount of disabled homeless veterans. they fought for us but we can't return the favor? like not all veterans have access to the programs that will provide them with government assisted housing.

lgbtq+ youth and young adults get kicked out of their parents' houses way too often without anywhere to go afterwards, ending up homeless as a result. i don't give a fuck what you think as a parent, when you have a kid, you agree to take care of that child until that kid is 18 and you have an obligation to do so (there are exceptions but not agreeing with your kid's sexual orientation or gender identity IS NOT FUCKING ONE OF THEM).

it is so fucking hard to make a fucking living wage in the united states and it doesn't help that the mentality seems to be "but you're just entering the workforce, why should you be paid a living wage?" which will lead to an unstable income, which could result in being evicted. honestly most people with this mentality probably also have the "once my kid is 18 they are on their own" mentality which is also super not great.

home environment

it's common for teenagers to get involved in smaller scale crimes (vandalism, theft, drugs, etc) because of how their home life is. how do i know this? i lived with kids in that exact situation for a year and a half. the kids are almost NEVER the issue when it comes to behavioral problems; for example, i was aggressive as a kid, but that likely came from me having undiagnosed autism and nobody knowing how to handle it (something my family agrees on).

in that group home the kids were never the problem. their home lives were. they were almost always either abused, neglected, or just didn't have a great relationship with their parents (or parent, depending on the situation) in general.

genuinely if i found a teenager committing a crime i would explain my history and ask about their home life because 9/10 that's where it starts.

we are not dealing with a crime issue. we are not dealing with a drug issue. we are not dealing with a homelessness issue. we are dealing with a mental health issue first and foremost that is causing the aforementioned crime, drug, and homelessness issues and society's fucked up views on mental health are only making everything worse. to fix criminal justice systems, we also need to fix our mental healthcare systems, including STOP FUCKING DEMONIZING PEOPLE FOR SHIT THEY CAN'T CONTROL. THIS INCLUDES INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS. intrusive thoughts are fucking horrifying to the person having them, THAT'S WHY THEY'RE CALLED INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS.

[tequiladimples]

I hope this doesn't come off as rude, but I saw that you dislike when collision is branded het cause you're not het, but no one's talking about you personally? like for me, I really like collision but I can understand the criticism in a way and that isn't an attack on you (or an attack at all lol). again hope I'm not rude but idk it seems unnecessary to get upset, it's better to take it as constructive criticism

sigh i don't think ur rude but it simply isn't constructive.

look i’ll talk abt this one more time n then i Beg we can put it to rest! (this is gna be a lot of word vomit but if i'm elaborative now i hope i won't have to talk abt this ever again)

i’m deeply insecure abt many aspects of collision. i don’t really keep that a secret. i also know some ppl don't like fantasy, some ppl don't like the kinds of dynamics i like, some ppl don't vibe with my style of writing (hell, i barely vibe with my style of writing). those things are fine. i can't control that and i don't take that personally. the reason why this is the one critique i do take personally is because it genuinely presumes wrongful, harmful things about me and my values, especially when i've made deliberate efforts to avoid writing the exact flavor of fic they're accusing me of having written. just because people don’t mean for what they say to reflect back on me, doesn’t stop it from doing so.

the thing about calling something a “het fic” is that the term brings along certain connotations which i don’t stand by at all and feel deeply uncomfortable and distraught to possibly have created. i’ve gone over this godforsaken story again and again just to be absolutely sure i didn’t actually do so. when people say “het fic” they generally don’t mean “boy meets girl and they fall in love”, they mean “super rude and mean boy meets uptight virtuous girl and makes her fall in dependence with him through manipulation and treating her like shit until she behaves how he wants.” and that is straight up not the fic i wrote. i’m not stupid. i know the dynamic i went with is widely and easily misused and there’s a lot of fiction depicting really bad, uneven, unhealthy relationships through it. i knew this going in, and i’ve tried persistently to avoid making those same mistakes. 

skipping over the fact that they’re both boys (bc duh)--harry doesn't exhibit any real manipulative power over louis. collision harry is a grumpy, fruity little nerd who happened upon a really unfortunate lot in life and managed to trick himself into believing he's evil for like half a second of the story and his resolves crumble like a danish pastry the moment he receives his first hug. he's kind of aloof and arrogant, and understandably hardened from his past, but he's not bad. he's just lost. that's the basis of his character arc. now on the other hand, louis has harry wrapped around his finger starting like chapter 4. harry’s the one who opens up emotionally first, harry’s the one desperately seeking louis’ approval and caring about his opinion, harry’s the one who makes himself vulnerable continuously throughout the entire story. the only time louis makes himself vulnerable on a comparable scale is during the smut scenes, and even then, harry is gentle and attentive and puts louis first. louis is less experienced than harry in that area, but he isn't scared or intimidated by harry, and he has full reigns of the progression and nature of their relationship as a whole. that’s kind of how it needs to go with tough x soft dynamics for the power balance to not feel uneven, and i wrote the story accordingly. if you then happen to still be so blindly determined to associate soft/small with weakness (and thereby uh, womanhood ig) that you still felt like louis had an inferior position to harry solely because he is indeed soft/small, that sounds quite frankly like a you problem.

now, the whole point of louis’ character is that he’s underestimated. sure, he’s naive and self-centered and sheltered from the real world--that’s the basis of his character arc. those things all change. but louis isn’t ever weak. like idk who apparently needs to hear this but you can be small and simultaneously not be a pushover. the two aren’t mutually exclusive. there isn’t a single time louis takes shit in this story, especially not from harry; he gives back as good as he gets every time. oh! and then he literally saves the entire universe and the execution of that whole thing was his idea alone. i tried really hard to underline how strong-willed and full of grit he is to contrast what others think of him. if you think he’s portrayed as a meek and frail damsel, you missed the point. once again, i feel like we circle back to this misconception of louis being kind of naive and physically small = louis being inferior = louis being female. just do some soul searching.

(i could also get into the fact that for a bunch of people who don’t know these boys personally (no matter how much we like to think we do), this fandom is weirdly opinionated about characterization. especially regarding sexual stuff. i know creating a version for ourselves of who we think these boys are based on things we recognize in ourselves or things we find endearing is part of the comfort with loving them. but that doesn’t really equate to actually knowing them, and besides, this is fan fiction; no one’s opting to write a biography, anyway. being experimental and explorative and putting different aspects of their personalities in different lightings is what makes fic fun. if someone’s writing harmful or one-dimensional characters, that’s one thing, and preferences is again whatever floats your boat. but the “out of character” argument feels mostly really strange to me. this is a bit of a tangent, though.)

lastly, the thing is that i will and i do take it personally if someone insinuates that a character--a gay character--that i, a lesbian, construed is a secret vessel for expressing heterosexual attraction. if someone calls louis a “self-insert”, that does reflect back on me. and to elaborate on that--i don’t particularly love to bring it up, but it's quite disheartening to pour personal PTSD experiences into a character and rly put effort into doing it right and justice and underline growth and healing, just to find out people disregard all that completely in favor of declaring that my self-projection lies in the attraction to a man--which is to say, the one thing i couldn’t possibly feel more estranged from. it's so incredibly tactless. i feel thoroughly whiny at this point but how is that not supposed to make me a little sad?

anyway. none of this is to say that you can’t dislike or critique collision. you can. sometimes ppl don’t like things. but i hope i’m clear about where i’m coming from with my discomfort now. people’s preferences and dislikes are indeed not mine to be hurt by, but these things are. this definitely got unnecessarily long and i probably look like i take myself unbearably seriously (i promise i don’t), so i’m sorry. but at least i've said everything now, and if i encounter this sort of rhetoric in the future, i have something to redirect people to. also anon, none of this is directly pointed at you, i know you mean well. take care <3

[innermort]

*** disclaimer: this is a very long diary type of entry that is probably quite boring for everyone else and may be ignored. it's merely a very lenghty epiphany I just had about my life and myself and I had to type it out for me, to lock in the thoughts, if you will. it was pretty therapeutic tho. 🙃 ***

10/Sept/2021

I just had the realization that I'm in the process of redefining every aspect of my self and my life.

I quit smoking cigarettes from one day to another exactly 2 months ago tomorrow and went from a heavy to a casual party smoker.

I rarely ever smoke weed anymore (plus when I did since quitting tabacco, I rolled with herbs) and now made the conscious decision to take another long break, so it doesn't interfere with my weight loss again. I get the worst munchies and have no self control when I'm stoned. I'm talking "5000+ cals in one sitting" type of binges. I'm not tolerating this kind of self sabotage anymore.

I re-discovered edblr. Yes. I know. Not the healthiest habit to get back into but it's the only thing that has actually helped me gain the motivation and willpower to put a stop to my raging sugar addiction and instead, an actual effort into losing weight again. Besides, I'm doing it in a much more careful and "responsible" way now (high restricting, taking supplements, no strict/exact calorie limit, very light to no exercise (okay, to be fair the reason for that is mainly my injured knee but still), letting myself eat/drink more than planned if I feel my body needs it). And let's not forget that I've literally been binging every day for the past 2 or 3 months. My diet nearly exclusively consisted of chocolate, pastries and pizza. Literally. I've gained 10 kgs (22lbs) during that time. That lifestyle was just as unhealthy, if not unhealthier.

I finally got to hang up and use my calender. Due to my ADHD (self diagnosed for now), I'm very forgetful and unorganized - at least in my private life. That's why I made the decision to get a big calender which I can use as a semi To Do/Buy list and appointment/meeting/bill reminder. Since I'm glueing a sticker to each day I got through without binging, I'm looking at it pretty much every day anyways. Plus, it's a motivater to not binge (reward that inner child)! Overall, it's helping me become more organized and put together which are two areas I've been lacking in in the past years. So far, I've been mostly using my phone notes but I usually write something down and immediately forget about it if it's not a grocery list or a To Do list I'm actively working through on that same day.

I have my first appointment at a psych ward since I was a teen. It's just a phone call and first get to know conversation but it's better than nothing and more than overdue. I'm finally taking the first steps towards getting diagnosed and being eligible for therapy. I'm sick of feeling like a victim of my own brain, I just want to be better. I deserve to be better.

I'm hungry for knowledge again. I deleted Tiktok from my phone because of how big of a distraction it was and because I realized that even though I'm being bombarded with new information everyday, I'm not learning anything. Our brains can't even comprehend the amount of information given in that short time span. Nothing sticks. Sure, you find out about some pretty cool stuff on TT depending on what kinda fyp you have but for me personally, it was just hours and hours of mindless scrolling in the end. It's crazy how addictive it is, too. Even despite the fact that I was already at a point where it didn't even give me that quick dopamine quick anymore. It felt boring and repetitive and I was merely doing it out of habit.

So, I got rid off the app. I started watching documentaries again. Mostly about gut health and mental illnesses like ADHD, Autism, BPD, Narcissm etc. Like TED talks or interviews/discussions by and with professionals/experts/diagnosed people. I'm back to not just craving but actually consuming something with substance, something that gives me more knowledge and insight on a topic. Something I actually want to know more about.

I realized and accepted that even though I am a creative mind, a fully creative job might just not be for me. I'm learning that maybe I'm the type of person who does something entirely different in their free time than what they do at work. And that that's very much okay. I noticed that at my job (this was the case for every job I ever had), my mind seems to work differently. When people expect me to do something, I have the needed pressure and motivation to get it done. I could also observe in myself that at work, I enjoy organizing/sorting stuff, I'm a fast and independent learner while I'm also excellent at training new employees, I'm much more detail oriented than in my private life - overall, it came to my attention that I might not actually be the ever chaotic forgetful mess who can't form a logic thought - or I can at least recognize that this is merely a part of me and not what defines and limits me as a person. I realized I actually like straightforward work, I like working alone and I like working precisely. When I was younger I would have never used any of these traits to describe my dream career. I would gag at the idea of working an office job and now I feel like this would actually suit me very well. Especially the working alone part would mean feeling less drained at the end of a work day and still having the energy to hang out with people I actually want to see. This is an extremely valuable lesson about myself that I finally seem to have learned.

After this big sub- and now concious evaluation about myself I'm also finally taking actual steps towards a possible career. I bought a course and worked through the first 2 lectures today, taking notes and writing everything down neatly for 3 - 3 1/2 hours (in total with breaks in between). I even got a notebook specifically for this new life project. I'm excited to learn. I feel scared, too. This is something I've never done before but I'm telling myself that trying won't hurt. I have my main job as a safety net, financially nothing can happen to me. I can only learn, even if I fail. And time will pass anyways, whether I get my ass up and put in the work or continue to be unhappy with what I'm doing without trying to change anything.

Speaking of finances, I also started taking those more seriously now. I stopped using my credit card (I was in negative numbers constantly, big numbers like -300 to -800€ due to constant overspending). I set up standing orders for my monthly fixed costs to make sure bills are always paid on time. Due to my forgetfulness and ADHD freeze I would often forget to pay or postpone paying bills until the reminder came in the mail and led to me having to pay on top or generating debt. I still have a little bit of debt to pay off but it's thankfully not a dramatic amount. I also have a second bank account for savings now where I transfer 200€ to every month. Even the simple act of calculating my fixed costs to see how much I can use for what was something that was desperately overdue. What I still have to do is sort out my receipts and write everything down in a housekeeping/budget book. And my first ever tax return. I am very much dreading both of these. 😃

Anyways. Wow. I really needed to type this out. I have the very harmful tendency to look at all the negative stuff and only focus on what I don't have and don't do. I really needed to take a long, deep look at all the things I've been changing around in the past couple months. A lot of it really passed me by until now. It's crazy but I really feel like a complete failure when my body isn't looking its best and it makes me blind for everything else. So, thank you to myself for reminding me that I am actually making a lot of progress, even if it has been in areas other than my fitness and looks. They're just as important (from a healthy brains point significantly more important, obviously) and deserve to be noticed and celebrated.

Conclusion: ❤️✨YAY, ME✨❤️

[twistedlymad]

Hello there, I love blogs and your writing. If you have the time, can you please write about the MC (fem reader) where she accidentally summons Stitch himself, befriends him, Stitch took an instant liking to her, with the TW guys becoming jealous to the new familiar and Stitch causing all sorts of mischief and pranks towards them. Thank you, keep up the good work and stay safe

Ohmaigawd. When I first read your request, I was honestly shocked! OwO

I literally could not have made the connection between Twisted Wonderland and Stitch at all! When I started writing, I did so many research! Forgive me, but, I have not seen any episode nor movie related to Stitch during my entire childhood, hence the research ahaha

One note though, I cannot make you summon Stitch as he already is a being on his own. However, I can make him appear in Twisted Wonderland :’)

Anyway, I hope this story lives up to your expectations! Thank you for requesting and have a lovely day! 

What if Stitch appeared in Twisted Wonderland? (Ft. Grim, Ace, Deuce, Sebek, Jack, Epel and Crowley) (Twisted Wonderland crossover w/Lilo and Stitch)

It was a quiet night at Night Raven College, no unnecessary arguments, no drama involving dorm leaders nor their members and most importantly, no fights occurring.

Or so you thought.

After having dinner, you and Grim went back to your Ramshackle Dorm after saying your goodnights to your friends.

“Fgnaaaaa! That deluxe-katsudon was the best dinner I’ve ever had!” Grim said as you put him on top of your head. It was his go-to spot for relaxing.

“You always say that to anything you eat.” You said, laughing. “You should cut down on all the extensive eating, you don’t want to have a certain teacher order you to run laps more than usual now do you?” You continued, a slight smirk on your face as you felt slight shivering on top of your head.

“Ahaha, you know what? Maybe I’ll skip lunch tomorrow.” The creature said to you and you shook your head.

“I told you to pay attention to your diet, not skip out on meals. It’s unhealthy.” You said as you opened the door to your humble Ramshackle Dorm, Grim jumping from your head and went inside. Before you went in yourself, you took a look outside and saw that the sky was clear and the moon shone upon you with no distractions. You felt a slight breeze blow through your hair and decided that it was a perfect weather to take a walk.

“Grim, I’m going to take a walk! You can go to sleep without me!” You yelled into the dorm before closing the door behind you and went on your walk.

You weren’t far from the dorm, in fact, you were taking your walk on the small field behind the building, enjoying the peace and quiet for once. As you looked up to the sky again, you noticed the stars that littered the sky. You took out your phone and took a picture of the night sky. However, a certain star caught your eye.

It was rather large to be a star? You thought it must be because the star was relatively close. You almost shrugged it off, keyword: almost. You would’ve went on your merry way if it wasn’t for a certain fact about the star.

It was getting bigger, it looked as if it was right above you. Once your mind had taken this fact into realization, your legs got the message and began to move out of the way. You ran to a few trees and hid behind one of them. A crash was heard soon after, it was rather loud, Grim would have probably heard it if it wasn’t for the fact that he was asleep. You peeked your head out from behind the tree to see what had happened, but all you could see was smoke.

Your mind had told you to get back into the dorm and call Crowley but your curiosity got the better of you. You began to walk towards the smoke to see what had crashed. You craned your neck, trying to get a better view when all of a sudden a part of the crash had flung open. You were taken aback and took a few steps back, fearing for whatever would emerge from the thing.

However, the only thing that emerged is a blue koala? Was it even a koala? You weren’t sure. Your whole body froze as it looked at you.

But what scared you the most was the fact he had 4 arms.

AND 4 GUNS?!

The creature then pointed the guns at you and your arms immediately flailed up to shield your face.

“D-Don’t shoot! I wasn’t going to hurt you!” You yelled, hoping that it would just go away. The creature just looked at you, guns still pointed at you. However, you noticed that it was slightly trembling, so you slowly lowered your arms.

“Umm… Hi?” You waved to it, you weren’t sure if it even understood you. But it replied.

“Hi?” Your eyes widen and slowly crouched down to its level. The creature still had its guns pointed at you. You just held up both your hands as if to show you were harmless.

“C-Can you understand me?” You asked and the creature nodded, but then shook its head.

“Ah… I’ll take that you do understand but you aren’t quite sure on how to speak it.” The creature nodded furiously.

“Interesting… Do… Do you have a name?” You asked and slowly approached the creature. The creature still stood his ground.

“S-Stitch. My name is Stitch.” It said and slowly lowered its weapons, slowly realizing that you meant no harm.

“That’s very good, where are you from?” You kept the conversation going. You were trying to let it relax and know that it has no need to be defensive. You sat down and looked at it.

“Ha… Hawaii.” You nodded with a smile.

“I assume you’re a boy?” He nodded.

“Ah… I see… I should introduce myself too.” You said to him. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). Nice to meet you.” The koala-like alien blinked at you before nodding.

“(Y/N)?” He asked you.

“Yes, (Y/N), that’s my name.” You smiled to the creature, it also gave you a smile back. Stitch and you looked at the crashed craft and could already tell that it was unusable. Sighing, you returned your attention back to the creature, you used your hand to cup his head to look at you.

“Say, Stitch, how about you stay for the night? We could go find help first thing in the morning.” You offered and you saw his eyes light up. Stitch nodded and you smiled.

“Alright, come, let’s get a good night’s rest.” With that, you and Stitch walked back to your Ramshackle Dorm. You let Stitch sleep on the bed while you slept on the sofa. Grim was already asleep on the bed so he didn’t hear the crash happening. You let Stitch shimmy himself into the bed and tucked the two creatures in, after doing so, only then you went to sleep on the couch.

You were awoken the next morning by a scream.

“FGNAAAAAAAAA!”

Your eyes jolted awake and you saw Grim running towards you and away from an already awoken Stitch.

“(Y/N)! THERE’S A MONSTER IN OUR BED!!!” Grim yelled, jumping into your arms. Your eyes travelled to Stitch only to see him looking kind of sad. You just let out a small smile.

“Grim, he’s not a monster, his name is Stitch and he crash landed on our yard yesterday. I’m going to take him to see Crowley in a short moment.” You said, petting Grim to soothe him.

“Does that make him an alien?” Grim asked you and you shrugged.

“I guess.” You said, letting Grim go and walking over to Stitch, who was now curled up into a ball. You then bend down to his level.

“Good morning Stitch, I’m sorry you got scared a moment ago, but this is Grim! He won’t hurt you, he was just surprised to see you.” You said and nudged Grim over.

“I am the Great Grim, the most powerful mage in Twisted Wonderland!” You rolled your eyes at his introduction.

“Grim? (Y/N)?” Stitch asked and you nodded.

“Yep, that’s us. Now, let me just go prepare for the day and we can go find help for you.” You smiled at Stitch and left Grim and Stitch in your room. You got dressed and had Grim resting on your head while you hugged Stitch in your arms. As you did, Stitch somehow morphed his extra 2 arms back into his body, this made you jump a little.

“So, you can morph those arms in and out?” You asked the blue creature and he nodded. “Wow, that’s very surprising. Well, time to go.”

With that, the 3 of you set off to find the bad fashion sensed and lazy headmaster. When you arrived at the headmaster’s office, Stitch had hidden himself behind your legs. You giggled and told him not to worry and went in the office together with Stitch and Grim.

Truth be told, the headmaster had let out a girlish scream when you brought Stitch into his view. The 3 of you were taken aback but the headmaster had quickly calmed down and asked you what had happened. After explaining the situation to Crowley, he decided that he will have students from Ignihyde Dorm to check out the crash and see if they can help, meanwhile, you get to have Stitch stay as your pet since you were a beast tamer after all. But in return, you must keep an eye on him 100% of the time and not allow any nonsense to happen at all.

Pfft, I think most nonsense happened because of you Crowley.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck together for now Stitch!” You said to the blue koala. “Now, you two better behave well in class later on.” You said and the three of you went to class.

After this time with Stitch, you would be lying if you said you weren’t attached to the him. Grim and him actually chatted here and there and became fast friends really quick.

Whispers and gossiping were heard once you’ve stepped foot into your classroom. You felt slightly uncomfortable, Stitch saw this and bared his fangs at the students who were gossiping about you and Stitch. Grim shot a few nasty looks here and there but nothing much.

“(Y/N), I don’t mean to be rude but, what is that?” Deuce asked you once you sat down at your usual spot, between him and Ace.

“This little cutie, is Stitch!” You said happily to the two of them.

“He’s the most adorable little creature I’ve ever seen!” You added, hugging Stitch closer to you. In return, the little blue koala-like creature snuggled close to you too.

Little did you know, a few sounds ‘tchs’ were heard from the two Heartslabyul boys beside you. However, Stitch heard them. Oh, this little creature knew what was going on when he looked up to see two jealous slightly annoyed faces looking down at him. And with that, he had concocted a plan to see how far he could annoy them.

They boy’s eyes widen as they saw Stitch had a semi-evil smile on his face as you giggled and kissed his nose. The boys were shocked! A few veins of theirs popping too! Low grumbles and mumbles were heard from the boys but you payed no attention to them as Professor Trein had walked in and began teaching.

As the bell rung, signaling that it was time for lunch. You stretched your body, arching your back after having it hunched over a table for some time. You then looked down to see a sleeping Grim and a semi-asleep Stitch. You let out a soft giggle and woke the both of them up.

“Grim, Stitch, come on, let’s go get some lunch.” And the two creatures woke up.

“Fgnaaaa! It’s eating time already? Come on, let’s go!” Grim said excitedly.

“Jeez, Grim is sure as hyper as ever.” Deuce commented.

“He better not steal my sandwich again…” Ace added and you let out a small laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.” You said, winking to the two boys. They blushed slightly as you walked with the two creatures to the cafeteria. The boys followed behind but was met with Stitch sticking out his tongue at them behind your back.

Cue more veins popping and potentially a bad boy Deuce breaking out.

Nevertheless, the two Heartslabyul boys had scowls on their faces and kept mumbling to one another. Somethings about ‘that little alien thinks he’s so high and mighty’ and ‘how dare he have more treatment from (Y/N) than us’ were thrown here and there from them.

When you arrived at the cafeteria, Grim jumped from your head and ran in a beeline towards the line for buying food. Ace and Deuce accompanied him as you and Stitch went to find your other friends. You saw them sitting at a table when Epel had waved you over. You smiled, waved back and head towards their table.

Jack, Epel and Sebek sat and chatted when you came over, and all their eyes landed on Stitch. You noticed that and began to explain what happened last night. Once you finished, Ace, Deuce and Grim were back with their food.  

“So, he’s an alien?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“Yes, and he is the most adorable creature ever! How can you not love him?!” You let out a small squeal and once again hugging Stitch closer to you.

Multiple and I mean MULTIPLE ‘tchs’ were heard. You were too busy giving Stitch attention that you didn’t hear a single thing.

Remember when I said Stitch knew about this jealousy the boys had for him?  

With a small smirk on his face, he kissed your cheek.

Innocently.

Jaws were dropped to the ground, eyes were wide open like saucers, and the most terrible thing was,

Sandwiches and food were squeezed until they were either like a thin piece of paper or entirely inedible.

FOOD WAS WASTED. HOW COULD THEY?! QwQ

You were shocked to have Stitch kiss your cheek. You looked back at the blue koala-like creature only to see him giving you the most adorable puppy eyes ever!

“Awwww! I love you too!” You said and hugged Stitch tightly and him hugging you back, tightly as ever.

“You see what we had to deal with?!” Ace whisper-yelled to everyone and they all nodded. Well, everyone except Grim. The little furball was just happy he got his sandwich and sat there, eating happily.

You guys were chatting and eating, with the occasional glaring between Stitch and the boys of course, when Crowley came up to your table, informing you that the dorm members of Ignihyde managed to fix Stitch’s aircraft and even upgraded it.

Truth be told, you felt happy and sad at the same time. Sure, it might mean Stitch gets to go home, but it also meant that you’ll have to say goodbye to him. It might have been only a day, but you’ve grown attached to the creature and now it’s time to say goodbye.

You had stick on a smile on your face and hid your true feelings inside.

“That’s great! Well, Stitch, let’s go and see your new aircraft!” You said to Stitch and all of you went back to Ramshackle Dorm to send Stitch off.

When you arrived, the aircraft in front of you didn’t look too much different when you first saw it, but it did have a few tweaks here and there. You let Stitch inspect his new ride, checking for anything that might go wrong again before taking off.

You were painfully quiet, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boys and Grim.

When Stitch had finished inspecting, he gave you a big smile and nodded furiously, telling you that everything was okay and that he will be going shortly. You gave him a smile back.

“Well, looks like you’re going home.” You said to him and gave him a hug. He hugged you back tightly and did something very surprising.

“Ohana.” Said the blue creature. You were puzzled.

“What?” You asked Stitch as you pulled away from the hug.

“Ohana means family. (Y/N), you took me in even when you knew I wasn’t normal. You, Grim and everyone were friendly to me and didn’t try to hurt me in any way. You even helped me in this unfamiliar world and didn’t push me away. That’s why, you’re all family to me.”

“You’re my ohana.”

Tears streamed down your face when Stitch said those words. A genuine smile had formed on your face and Grim was right beside you, bawling his eyes out as well.

“Thanks Stitch, you’re ohana too.” You said as you and Grim hugged Stitch together.

The boys at the back were holding in their tears. How could they think that this sweet little creature tried to take you away from them? They felt like as if a gun struck their hearts with guilt for wanting to hurt Stitch even though he only wants someone to guide him through this unfamiliar world.

You then pulled away from the hug and let Stitch get into is aircraft. Once the engine is up, you stood back and waved goodbye to him. He smiled and waved goodbye to you too before ascending into the sky, going back to his home.

The boys came up and comforted you as you wiped your tears away.

“Listen, (Y/N), we know Stitch meant a lot to you…” Deuce started but you just shook your head.

“Don’t worry, even though my relationship with Stitch was strong, I still have a lot of ohana here.” You said and smiled to them, in return they smiled to you as well.

“Yanno, I don’t mean to ruin the mood, but, VARGAS’ CLASS STARTS IN 4 MINUTES.” Grim said to everyone and you all laughed.

“Well, we better hurry if we don’t want to get punished. I remember the last time it was Sebek and Ace who got punished and their punishments were to run 200 laps and do 300 push-ups.” You giggled at the memory and the boy’s faces paled.

“What’re we waiting for? LET’S GO!” Ace yelled.

And so the 7 of you ran as fast as you could to get to class in time.

[that-otome-potato]

Choices

- Pairing: MC x Sotetsu / MC x Kongou

- Rating: NSFW for explicit sexual content, language, and TW: abuse, blood, gun violence

- Requested by: @lancermylove

- Request: Your choice: Koku, Kei, Kong, and/or So. (CM = cast member)(sfw version) A few years back, s/o and CM1 were dating, but she left him suddenly and in a bad way. Unbeknownst to him, she broke up with him to protect him (dets up to you). In the present time, s/o is dating CM2 but she still feel guilty about CM1. By chance she meets CM1, & he's still angry at her because he never stopped loving her. Which guy will s/o choose? Will the people who were trying to hurt CM1 return or will they target CM2.

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind! I used a couple different flowers that a couple places said meant danger, beware, and infatuation - it’ll make sense later haha. If I got it wrong, please let me know!

-A/N 2: There will be two endings for you to choose between at the end.

Under the cut to save space ^_^;

“Sotetsuuuu! I’m home! Are you ready yet? It’s almost time to go to Starless!” I listened as I took my shoes off at the door and put my bag on the kitchen table, hearing the sound of the shower running from our bathroom.

When I entered the bedroom, I paused at the sight of a fresh-from-the-shower Sotetsu, dripping with water and good looks, standing there with one towel tied loosely around his waist and one covering his head. Even after being together as friends during two years of university, then lovers for three of the last four, he still made my heart race and take my breath away to this day.

All of the moisture left my mouth and moved down to the juncture between my legs at the sight before me. Sotetsu just stood there in all his swarthy glory, his hands on his hips, watching me lick my lips while my gaze trailed after a droplet of water that traveled from his temple, along his chiseled jaw, down his pectoral muscles and trailing down his right side to slide down his iliac crest and past the edge of his towel. Which did little to hide how much he was enjoying my heated gaze. The only thought in my head was that I wanted to lick up that droplet with my tongue before it disappeared.

Sotetsu slowly brought his hands from around his hips to the front of his towel and slowly started to unwrap it from his hips and I could feel my heart rate increase further and further, right along with my breathing. By the time he dropped his towel to the floor, standing proud and tall in the buff, I felt my feet moving me towards him and he was cupping my jaw to tilt my head up towards him. My hands landed on his scalding flesh before he slanted his lips over my own and started devouring them, nipping and biting as if a starved beast.

His hungry kisses set kindling to the flame that had been given birth inside me the moment I walked into the bedroom, and a moan escaped as my arousal roared further to life the longer they lasted. Then he was thrusting his tongue past my lips and teeth to toy and tease my own and I felt my knees grow weak. Sotetsu noticed and wrapped an arm around my waist as he guided us backwards until the back of my knees came up against the large, sturdy bed.

Sotetsu took over completely once my back met the fluffy covers, and soon enough, my pants and panties were both strewn across the floor behind him, and his fingers were inside me, riding me deep, preparing me for his hardened girth.

“So...So, we don’t have much time. We’re going to be late.” I try to say when he released my lips to hear my moans and cries of arousal as he continued to play with me below while moving to nibble my earlobe and jaw, neck and collarbone.

The only response I got from him was a deep, vibrating chuckle, before we both got lost in our passions for the other.

We were very, very late.

~*~

Several days later, as I was walking up the stairs to the carpeted lobby of Starless, I noticed a man standing at the door and looking into the space, using his hands as shade against the mid day light. When he saw me standing there, he stared waving at me in a friendly manner.

Cautiously, I walked close enough for me to hear what he wanted to say, seeing a flower company's name on the left breast of his red polo shirt.

“Good afternoon miss! I have a floral delivery for __________ at this address. Would you be able to help me?”

Hearing my name was a surprise. Who could they be from? Sotetsu never sent me bouquets. However, as of late, he’d been surprising me here and there with little things like a bracelet, a flower, some sugary sweets. Small, intimate, sweet. All in private, but all the more special for the fact that they were from him.

“That's me.”

The younger man’s face lit up and he hurried back to the back of his delivery van that was the same shade of red and had the same logo as on his shirt, to bring out a small, but beautiful bouquet of orange lilies and a flower I didn't recognize. When he was right at the door, I unlocked it and took the bouquet from him and bowed in thanks before closing the door again, looking around for a card.

While walking back towards the office, I passed Sotetsu as he was talking with Kokuyou while walking to the stage. I paused him with a grip to his forearm and kissed his cheek, thanking him for the beautiful bouquet then continuing to the office.

I didn’t see the look of confusion and concern on his face as he watched me walk into the office and close the door.

Inside, I set the vase on the top of the desk and pulled out the card.

What I read made my smile disappear as if it had never existed and almost drop the card in fear. I quickly looked up what the main flowers in the bouquet meant and what I discovered caused my hands to shake and I backed away from the computer. Danger, beware, infatuation. I looked back at the card again and felt the color drain from my face. The name signed at the bottom was a ghost from my past that I would have preferred to stay there. Instantly, I thought I was about to lose whatever was in my stomach right there on the desk as memories of the nearly two years with the abusive man flooded my head.

Hand over my mouth to keep things where they belonged, I looked at the card again and read: ‘You’ve had your fun, my dear. But it’s time to come back to me like the good little girl you are.’

I stared at the card without really seeing it, seeing that man, feeling his hand cracking across my cheek when I attempted to go see an upset friend, or when he caught me talking to Sotetsu while I was dating him. That had earned me a black eye, a broken nose and an unhealthy amount of fear of him.

Shaking my head, I frowned down at the piece of paper in my hand. No! That had been years ago now. I couldn’t let my past haunt and control me when I had a bright and loving future ahead of me. Besides, he couldn’t possibly be serious about threatening me to get me back? As if that would actually work on me now after spending so much time around the various members of Starless and having Sotetsu as a partner.

I ripped up the card with satisfaction and tossed it in the waste basket before taking and placing the undeniably beautiful, yet upsetting, bouquet on a table in the lobby to brighten up the area. Completely forgotten about shortly after.

~*~

Over the following week, two more bouquets with the same threatening theme, arrived for me. I narrowly avoided Sotetsu noticing the second one, but when the third one came, he was standing with me.

“Secret admirer?”

My head swiveled towards him, hoping not to see any upset or anger as the same delivery man left and the van drove off. No, I wouldn’t see that with him. Sotetsu wasn’t him. He knew I was devoted to him and him alone, but surely the bouquets were becoming suspicious.

“Something like that. More like an irritation if I’m completely honest.” I say as I start to walk over to an open spot in the lobby to place the small bouquet of flowers on near the other two.

I’m not sure why, but when I pause to look out the front doors, I noticed that the delivery van had moved and I saw him standing against a car across the street. When I realized that it wasn’t a bad memory manifesting, that he was actually there, I felt the vase slip from my hands and shatter on the floor. It sent shards of glass and flowers all over the place at my feet. But I didn’t move to clean it up immediately like I normally would. I couldn’t. Despite my insistance that I was stronger than the woman who had dated that man, fear rooted me to where I stood as I stared at him and our eyes met across the road and through the glass doors.

When I managed to tear my gaze from his hatred-filled gaze, I noticed someone was shaking me. I faced front to see a concerned Sotetsu looking down at me with his large hands on both of my upper arms. A few seconds after focusing on him again, Sotetsu picked me up bridal style and walked me to the office where the first aid kit was to treat the small cuts on my legs from the shattered glass.

“Who was that?”

“Someone I had hoped never to see again.”

~*~

After that, I clung to Sotetsu at every opportunity, not only to protect myself, but to make sure nothing happened to him. I didn’t know what that guy was fully capable of and I didn’t want him to run into Sotetsu and cause him harm. I loved him too much. At times, I worried that my increased clinginess and affection might annoy Sotetsu, but he seemed to enjoy basking in it, hearing no complaints about it the next day or the next after that.

Just as I was starting to think my ex had given up, I received another note. This time it threatened Sotetsu and I, warning me that I really should take him seriously. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to worry Sotetsu, or get him involved more than he already was with my crazy ex because of my fears. I’d thought about asking some of the others, but I refrained. ‘I’ll just have to keep an even closer eye on him.’

The next day, Sotetsu and I were walking around a park nearby, holding hands and just enjoying the day. Or rather, Sotetsu was. I was constantly scanning the area around me, watching nervously for anyone suspicious.

“You should relax. It’s our day off.”

I squeezed his hand tighter. “I know, I'm sorry. But after the last card he sent, I’m worried. I don’t want anything happening to you because of me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Everything will be fine.”

“The optimism in your voice is so satisfying, because I’m going to change that depending on __________’s reply.”

I felt myself freeze at the sound of my ex’s low voice, laced with anger and hatred, and turned from looking at Sotetsu, to looking at him. Though it was a warm spring day, he was wearing a jacket with both of his hands in the pockets, looking at us with a smug grin. When I opened my mouth to reply, I noticed his dark eyes had taken on a crazed glint, so I knew I had to choose my words carefully.

“Why now? It’s been years since I left.”

“I’ve always missed you, __________. You were born to be with me, not this muscle-bound ignoramus you cling to so tightly. Have you forgotten how good I was to you? It’s time to come back, I’ve let you play long enough.”

“Hey asshole, she isn’t your possession or play thing. She is her own person and you’ve done enough.”

The man before us didn’t even look at Sotetsu, looking at me with a soft smile usually saved for those who cared about each other. “You deserve to be with someone more stimulating than this jock. Never thought you would be interested in someone who takes steroids or other such drugs.”

That pissed me off enough to forget my fear for a moment, and I moved around to stand before Sotetsu protectively. “There is no way in hell I’m going to let you bad mouth him right in front of me. You want to talk stimulation? He is more stimulating to me in all ways than you ever were. The only reason I stayed with you as long as I did was because I was scared of you! I regretted breaking up with So the entire time I was with you and meeting with him the day you gave me the black eye was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time. I’ve grown into a stronger woman because of him and the people here - you have no power over me anymore. Now, leave before I really make a scene.”

When he didn’t immediately leave, appearing to still be in shock at my admission and outburst, I turned and grabbed Sotetsu’s hand before walking past him in the direction we had originally been heading.

“Wrong answer, __________.” He whispered as we passed by, not stopping to even give him the time of day. He didn’t like that and growled under his breath. “__________!”

We were several feet away when we heard the audible sound of a heavy click and turned.

Everything after that happened in slow-mo.

In what felt like eternity, but couldn’t have been more than the space of a blinking eye, there was a loud bang and I watched with utter horror as the gun was fired in our direction. My horror only growing when Sotetsu let go of my hand to face our enemy, blocking me entirely. I could feel a scream building up in my throat, wanting to be released when Sotetsu flinched back on his left side, his right hand moving up slowly to cover his shoulder.

The scream was released, blood-curdling in its birth, and suddenly everything was moving at normal pace.

“SOTETSU!”

I moved around his body to face him, seeing him clutching the front of his shoulder, his dark red blood seeping from between his fingers at an alarming rate. I ripped off the bottom of my shirt to place under his hand to press against his wound, my focus completely on him and getting his bleeding to stop. I didn’t hear the shooter - because that’s what he was now - come up behind me. Not until Sotetsu tensed and frowned, looking over my shoulder.

“I told you, __________. I told you to come back to me. You should have listened. If your boy-toy dies, it’ll be your fault.” His voice sent a chill up my spine while I continued applying pressure to Sotetsu's wound.

“Don’t listen to that asshole, __________. You know I’m not going anywhere.” This just causes the other man to laugh with a slightly hysterical sound. “He’s just trying to get in your head. You don’t need that shit.”

I knew he was right. I knew I had friends who supported me and a boyfriend who loved me.

But my fear of something happening to Sotetsu, or anyone at Starless, had already burrowed endlessly deep, despite my attempt at bringing forth my bravery, echoing as if I was stuck inside a dark, murky cave. ‘Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!’

With only a moment to react, kicking the other man completely from my thoughts, I felt Sotetsu clasp my shoulder with his bloody right hand before he collapsed to the grass below. To keep him from further injury, I fell with him.

“So!” His name fell from my lips loud and ragged as I cushioned his fall the best I could. In the plush grass beneath us, I gently tapped the side of his face with palm of my free hand in an attempt to keep him awake and focus his attention on me. “So! Sotetsu! Come on, baby. Stay awake for me.”

His orange gold eyes opened blearily as he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes clouded with pain even as he gave me one of his charming smiles. “You worry too much. I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes as I brought my hand, that was against his cheek, up to push his dark hair out of his eyes, his much larger, bloody hand coming up to cup my cheek coolly for a moment before it fell to his side and his eyes closed.

Even when I noticed he was breathing after laying him in the grass and applying pressure to the wound with a large chunk I tore off of his shirt when the piece I used before had become sodden, the fear lingered, pooling in my chest and making my heart clench.

Even while calling for an ambulance, the fear remained. ‘His injury is my fault’ my brain supplied as the ambulance arrived and the emergency professionals began treating Sotetsu before placing his large frame on a gurney, his eyes staying closed during the whole time.

Even at the hospital, once the doctors had cleaned him up and sutured his wound after pulling the .9mm out of his clavicle, the fear remained. They told me he would need to spend a couple days in the hospital because of the amount of blood he lost from the bullet grazing an artery, but that he was expected to make a full recovery. Despite that wonderful news, fear for him refused to leave.

‘What am I going to do? I don’t want to leave Sotetsu, but I don’t want to risk that maniac coming back to finish off what he started.’ I thought to myself as I sat in Sotetsu’s room against the window, watching his even breathing. All I could do was stare at my blood-covered hands in my lap. ‘I don’t want him to get himself involved, because that might just make it worse. I just need to give him a reason not to want to get involved.’

I gave it some thought as I sat there in his hospital room staring at my still bloody hands - I had to sear the image into my brain to remind me of why he was here. I took solace in the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor attached to his chest creating a soothing beat of life. However, the only conclusion I came to was to leave Sotetsu. To make him want to hate me, forget about me. ‘That would keep him safe.’

My heart cried out at what my brain was deciding on, the battle inside me tearing me apart bit by bit as I clenched my hands into fists to withstand the pain for what I thought needed to be done.

Before I could change my mind, pushing past the screaming for me to not do this, I took a piece of scrap paper that lay nearby and scribbled a short note to Sotetsu before gathering all of my things, placing one last, lingering, kiss on his forehead as he slept, and slipped out of his room without a sound.

I paused at the door and looked back at him one more time at the sound of him murmuring my name as he slumbered. I rushed out at the sound, fearing someone would see the tears in my eyes as I fled.

~*~

Hours later...

Sotetsu’s consciousness came back slowly and the scenery around him came into focus bit by bit.

‘This isn’t the park.’ When he looked around, he saw all of Team K sitting nearby, chatting in low tones. Yoshino is the first to notice he was awake.

“Sotetsu! You’re awake!”

All at once, three other sets of eyes turn towards him, all of them looking relieved, but he also thought he saw upset in two of them as well.

“What happened?” He looked to his leader for answers.

Kei leaned forward, his bright blue eyes flashing. “A few hours ago, you were attacked by a man claiming to be __________’s ex. He shot you and the bullet nicked your subclavian artery.”

He remembered being shot, the look of fear in __________’s eyes, the tears - he’d never forget it. He shook his head. “Where is __________? Is she ok?” ‘Why wasn’t she here?’

This caused Yoshino, Ginsei and Kei to all look at me at the same time, sympathy taking over them. Poor Gui just kept examining the hospital room listlessly.

“What? What happened?”

Kei stood up and walked over to where Sotetsu lay, holding out a folded piece of paper to him. “This was on the night stand next to your bed when we came in to check on you.”

Sotetsu took the small piece of paper. It had his name in what he recognized as __________’s handwriting on the outside, the same handwriting inside scrolling across the paper, its content growing steadily worse:

‘My sweet Sotetsu,

‘I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but thank you for protecting me today. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you woke up, I hope you can forgive me.

‘I’ve done some thinking as I sat near you in this room. Knowing you, you’ve probably already figured out what I’m about to say.

‘Sotetsu, I love you more than life itself. I always have and always will. Of course, you already know this. But after what happened to you today, I realized that if he came back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you just like I couldn’t today. So I am going to do what I need to in order to keep you safe from him.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. Starless will keep you safe. Your team will be there for you where I could not.

‘I love you, Sotetsu. Please don’t look for me - I can’t very well keep you safe if you find me.’

‘Forever yours, __________’

Sotetsu just stared at the paper in shock for a moment before crumpling it in his hand. He felt anger, betrayal. Sadness. She was breaking up with him? Through a fucking note? Who did that?? After everything he’d done for her, taking that bullet to protect her from that crazy. Didn’t she trust him? He deserved better than that.

“Sotetsu, are you ok?”

His angered gaze was drawn from the crumpled note in his hand to Gui, who had asked after him. After a moment, he looked back down and sighed. He wanted to rant, to rage. She left him because she didn’t think she could protect him. She was a strong woman, but he was bigger and stronger. He was a protector.

Sotetsu looked at Kei. “Did she go to Starless before leaving?”

Kei nodded. “That’s how we found out. She told us you’d gotten attacked and that you were in the hospital. We offered to bring her back with us to save money on a cab, but she said she had to do something at the shop first. We tried calling her once we got here, but she didn’t answer anyone’s call.”

“She texted me. Told me to stop trying to call her. She left Starless.” Ginsei added somewhat sheepishly.

“For the day?” Ginsei shook his head at Sotetsu’s question.

“Ginsei, why didn’t you say anything?” Kei chastised him. Ginsei responded, but Sotetsu had turned his attention internally, thinking about everything he had learned since waking up.

She doesn’t want to be found by him or anyone at Starless. ‘I wouldn’t be able to protect you... I can’t very well keep you safe...’

She left Starless for him, for them. He thought back to the times he’d been working some lead outside of Starless on some information he needed and had taught her a few tricks of the trade so she could disappear if she was ever in danger.

__________ felt like he was in danger, so she was using the skills she’d learned from him against him. Well, joke was on her because he knew what she was doing and would be finding her by tomorrow at least. He'd bet on it.

~*~

One year later...

“I don’t know, Kongou.” I looked at the employee entrance with uncertainty. It had been just over a year since the last time I’d come within one hundred yards of this building and I was worried about how they would respond to my sudden return. Kongou had assured me everyone had forgiven me and was looking forward to my return, but anxiety kept me from feeling joy at the thought. Particularly since I knew that Sotetsu was still working here.

‘Sotetsu...’ Could I even look Sotetsu in the eye after how I ended things with him? I did it with the best of intentions because I knew he would try to convince me otherwise and I couldn’t risk something happening to him again. Since then, I had recognized my error. I should have talked to him about it before taking the situation into my own hands. After coming to that realization, I could have, should have, rectified it by returning to Starless. My pride refused to let me.

So while Kongou tried to convince me to return to Starless, to our friends, we grew closer and eventually started dating after a few short weeks.

Kongou placed a sweet, chaste kiss on my forehead and gave me a bright smile, warming my heart. “It’ll be fine! Even Sotetsu is excited to see you again.”

He was sweet to say that of course, but I was still apprehensive. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked to the side, Kongou’s bright personality too much to keep looking at. “I still don’t know...”

“I told you, __________! Even back when I found you by chance at the park two months ago, everything will be fine. You’ll see!” Kongou smiled brightly at me and I felt my heart flutter slightly. “Trust me.”

I looked up into his kind, emerald green eyes and saw confidence and assurance that I didn’t feel, but knew I could trust. My lungs filled with air as I inhaled as deep as I could, held, then released in a rush, mentally fortifying myself for what was to come.

“Okay.”

~*~

Turned out that Kongou was right.

Everyone on both sides seemed to welcome me with open arms - some more begrudgingly than others - all just seeming to be glad that I had returned.

I looked past the group surrounding me the best I could and caught sight of an achingly familiar set of wide shoulders and brown hair. My heart clenched at the sight, knowing I had hurt him the worst. But how could I face him?

Kongou had seen the way I was looking at Sotetsu and squeezed my shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

He had been right so far, perhaps he was now as well. With a nod, I excused myself from the Starless teams and followed Sotetsu into a quiet back area.

When he stopped, I stopped, clenching my hands at my sides while trying to figure out what to say to him. What did someone say to another person after they broke up with them while they were in the hospital by way of a folded piece of paper? I squared my shoulders and cleared my throat. 'Get it over with...'

“So?” I could see his back visibly tense for a moment before releasing with a heavy sigh. I bit my lip to keep back tears of upset and frustration at the situation. “Sotetsu, I...”

Sotetsu rounded on me when I tried to speak. I thought he had been angry, but there was a heavy pain deep in his golden eyes. A pain I had caused.

“I looked for you, you know. For weeks? Months? Did I ever even stop? I don’t know now. No matter where I looked, who I talked to, you were gone.” He held up one of his large hands to keep me from speaking when I tried again. “I know you told me not to, but did you actually think I wouldn’t? Who do you think I am? So I got to thinking about the guy who started it all that day in the park.

“It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but I finally found him and gathered enough evidence, leaving an anonymous tip with the police, to have him arrested. I thought to myself: maybe if she heard about that guys arrest, she would come back. You said in your note at the hospital that you had left me to protect me after all.

“So I set to work doing just that. It took a couple months, but I finally got him arrested for abuse and sexual misconduct. Apparently, he was already a wanted man, but thought he was smart enough to get away.” He paused to look at me with furrowed brows. “But that still wasn’t enough to bring you back.

“Then Kongou comes in one day with one of the biggest smiles on his face. Told us that he had run into you while he was shopping for Starless. Imagine my surprise when he said that. Kongou of all people found you, instead of me. The one person in the world who knows you best!

"And to find you, a year later, with fucking Kongou? God damn it, _____! How could you do that to me? I looked for you everywhere. I never stopped. I used almost all of my contacts to find you, to protect you from that guy. I never stopped loving you. You were it for me, you know? Are you dating Kongou now? Fucking him?”

I flinched at his accusing tone, but quickly recovered and returned my own narrowed gaze towards him. “That’s enough! You know, ever since you opened your mouth, all I hear is me, me, me. I know I hurt you. Do you honestly think I wanted the past year to happen to us? Never in a million years did I think that something like that man coming back into my life. I didn’t want to leave you, Sotetsu.

“I did it because I believed it would protect you, since you were constantly protecting me. If I hadn’t cut ties with you, he would have kept coming and coming until he killed you. If you had...died... because of me, I’d... I’d never forgive myself.” I had to pause because of the emotion rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. “I would have died inside - I DID die a little inside when I watched you get shot. A little bit of my heart was left behind in that hospital room with you.”

The last of my impassioned speech was released loud enough that it echoed about the space.

“You could have come back to me. I got the guy imprisoned for a long time. You have to know how often I tried to call you, left voicemail after voicemail.”

I couldn’t help the heartbreak showing on my face. I knew that, but I couldn’t go back to him - not after he had almost gotten killed because of my crazy ex boyfriend. “I was...ashamed.”

“Of me?”

I threw up a hand to grip the front of his work shirt, making him focus on me. “No! Never of you. Of myself. I couldn’t face you. The thought of doing so after I had heard he went to prison scared the life out of me. I panicked at the idea of facing you after abandoning you when you needed me. But in my heart, I knew I’d done it to protect you because I loved you...”

“Loved. Past tense.”

I fidgeted where I stood in the shadow cast on the ground by the taller man, but I couldn’t look up at his reaction. Oh, but I heard exactly how he felt in just those three simple words. The raw pain he was feeling deep in his heart - like stitches being ripped from an open wound just barely starting to heal.

“I...I’m with Kongou now, Sotetsu.”

“Don’t remind me.” He spat, then sighed when he saw me flinch at his words. “Do you love him.”

“I like him a lot.” There was a long, awkward silence that encompassed them both. "But it's too soon to know."

The fact that I said I liked him, rather than love, didn’t escape either of us. Sotetsu reached up and gripped my wrist as if he were about to pull it from his shirt to separate us, but he didn’t.

“Is there still a chance you love me? Enough to come back since your ex won’t bother you anymore?”

My breath caught in my chest at the plea in his voice that he couldn’t cover up with his usual teasing tone. Something that he wouldn’t let just anyone see or hear.

Was there? Did I? Would he let me go back to him after everything I’d done? Did I deserve to?

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

Choice time! Since I couldn’t decide on an ending, I wrote two.

I want to stay with you, Sotetsu!

Our time is done. I want to stay with Kongou.

[undergrounddweller89]

NOTE : THIS IS A SPIES IN DISGUISE AU, WALTER IS THE CRIMINAL MASTER MIND AND KILLIAN IS THE SCIENTIST

THIS DEFINITELY CONTAINS SEXY TIMES

Not well written though probably and I tend to rarely go through my work to look for mistakes.

Despite Killian being kidnapped and handcuffed EVERY THING IS CONSENSUAL... Tristan is crazy obsessed with Beckett so he's very happy.

Now you've had your warning you read this instead of scrolling past that's on you, lemon is a tag used for stuff like this but if you feel like there are other tags I need to use please do tell me!)

The bag was stuffy, head phones covered his ears, they'd knocked off his glasses in their struggle to capture him, he could barely see without them.

Now his hands were cuffed behind his back, a hand on each upper arm, honestly Tristan was terrified, the car ride seemed a life time, though realistically it was only ten to fifteen minutes long.

He'd pleaded saying he was a no body just a scientist the agency threw in the corner and that no one ever took him seriously.

He was hunched, trying to tuck his head into his shoulders, so this was how he was going to die.

He felt every bump of the car and turn, trying to map out where he was going but he didn't recognise this route, usually he rode every where on his bicycle, deep blue with a silver bell and a basket on the front to pick up dinner on his way home...

Home where he could research the Criminal Master mind Walter Beckett ...to a near unhealthy obsession...alright it was unhealthy when you imagined him pushing you back against the table parting your thighs, fucking you and making you look at him by holding your head with his clawed hand....

Fuck was he going to die thinking about Walter, a man who didn't even known he existed...well he had no one, nothing living to care about...he might as well think of someone who made him happy even if only in his fantasies before he died right.

He was pulled from the car where he tried kicking at his handlers, Tristan didn't get very far though as one of them punch his gut winding him, he was wheezing as he was taken out of the vehicle.

"You know he's gonna kill you for that right."

The first handler smacked the second on the back of the head

"Only if this limp dick tells him, he's too much of pussy to squeal."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, but Im not covering your ass."

He was dragged through the facility, Tristan refused to make it easy to carry him and went limp.

Both handlers groaned, fuck, great a difficult one, well the first wasn't going to risk hurting him into compliance and the second knew he was on thin ice, if that punch had bruised him their boss was literally going to kill him.

Other workers watched as they went by, another two carried Tristans legs who now tried to struggle again, what the hell was going on!

He was sat in a chair with ease, after all their boss was right there, the workers didn't dare handle him as if he were anything less than a handle with care package with fragile taped all over him.

"Well are you going to take that off him, it's a little hard for dramatic entrances when he can't even see me."

"Yes sir, right away."

The bag was pulled off swiftly with the headphones clattering to the floor.

Tristan squinted, everyone looked like blurs, he could see faces only as different coloured splodges, his hair sticking up in different angles, shoulders aching now, he still sat up right, heart racing

"Where are his glasses?"

Tristan turned to where he heard the man speak, it was cold, commanded respect...familiar but no it couldn't be...

"Sebastian, where are his glasses?"

"I ah, James you see knocked them off in the struggle and-"

A metal arm, supporting four claw digits at it's end clasped his face

"What did I tell you about people with glasses, remove them, keep them what Sebastian."

He had brought the man to his knees holding so tightly Sebastian could feel his skull on the verge of cracking, he let out a cry as he managed to finish the sentence

"Safe!"

"Oh good you can listen to orders, now James..."

He'd let go of Sebastian and beckoned over his other crew member, Tristan knew this voice but it couldn't be him, he must still be disorientated.

"James, what have I told you about harming what belongs to me."

He said softly, curling his his claws around James's tie, Sebastian stepped back, well he had warned his coworker and with a snap and flick of his wrist the tie had been pulled so hard and tight the man's neck had been snapped.

"He had trouble following orders, first few times is understandable, you're settling into this new life but after five years it should not be that hard."

Tristan wished he'd had his glasses because if this was Walter Beckett he would have just witnessed one of Becketts trade mark moves and yes maybe would have gushed like a fan boy.

He was going to pretend it was him until he could see at the least and imagine he was kidnapped by Thee Walter Beckett.

He listened to him calling in clean up crew and for someone to bring up the glasses, his shape coming in closer and closer, it had to be him, the silver blurred limb was on his left, the hair colour.

"Awww poor baby..."

The younger man cooed.

Tristan tried very hard not to lean into his touch when his hair was stroke back and felt the Claws against his scalp

"Don't worry now, my useless men have been dealt with, come on now look up at me."

He didn't exactly give Tristan a choice as he place a claw under his chin

"See, now Mr Mcford I know I have my fans, the ones who do their fanart, their fictions whatever you will, I keep an eye on anyone who searches my name out of curiosity..."

He tapped his nose

"You Mcford like clock work will watch videos that have only the briefest flash of me, pour over articles, fictions..."

He smirked tracing one long metal claw along his jaw

"Reader x Walter Beckett, but you got tired of them, skinny little me always being pinned, submissive, no, no you wrote your own, named yourself Killian, nice name by the way, where I owned you, laid you back and made sure you knew who you belonged to."

Tristan was red, he was so fucking red and wanted the bag back on his head

"But Im not here to embarrass you, you're actually a good writer and it was the first one I ever enjoyed myself to."

Tristan wanted to implode, die right there, hearing Beckett had fucking masturbated to his little story, he let out a whine then hung his head, trying to hide how much that effected him.

The crew came up and pulled the body from the room and handed Walter the item he'd requested

"Face me now, unless you prefer being half blind."

Beckett held his face with his human hand, finger tip tracing a cheek bone, my they were sharp weren't they, what a pretty scientist.

Placing the glasses on, small lights flickered then settled.

"They read your eyes and the lenses adjust to the prescription you need."

Walter explained now casually sitting on Mcford's lap, an arm around the back of his neck.

"I'll cut to the chase, as I said we check everyone who even so much as types my name out of curiosity and when I found out you were working for the agency that has reaaaally caused a lot of problems in my life I researched you."

Tristan was staring, no way did Walter not feel the protruding problem down below, you would literally have to be either dead or have no feeling in your body to not notice that, he was still, he listened to him, was he having a wet dream, it had to be a dream right?

"Besides my uh Internet history...what...what did you find out."

"Oh you know, that you're an under appreciated scientist who came up with designs so dangerous they had to lock them away...and I may have slightly stolen them, now while I could personally and am the only qualified person here to build such delicious technology...."

He slipped his hand under Tristans lab coat, slowly rubbing his palm against his chest and smirking at the shakey breath and the way Tristan adjusted his hips, oh he could certainly feel that reaction

"I have an evil empire to run...I need you Tristan, I want you..."

He leaned in closer, lips nearly at his.

Mcford whined, fuck he was close Walter hadn't even done anything but the raised brow and smirk on Becketts face told him he could feel him twitch and gasped as the hand that'd been on his chest traveled down a finger tip teasing the head of his cock through his pants.

"How do you feel about working for me Tristan, build your machines and what ever else comes to mind, I need someone as competent as myself..."

Walter kneaded him slowly, to the point the slow pace was painful, his mouth was open and another ragged breath left him, this had to be a wet dream a really, vivid wet dream, please don't let his alarm go off...he pressed against his neck, forehead on his shoulder as Walter stroked the back of his neck with metal Claws, cool against his flesh.

Even if he was awake, of course his answer was yes....

"We could even build something together, I'm sure you'd just love to see me work..."

Beckett leered.

Walter was so warm, he was here, touching him, fucking touching him, dragging it out and making him nearly beg and he loved it.

"Yes..."

Tristan panted, lifting his hips trying to get more friction, he still had his handcuffs on he couldn't reach out and touch the man he wanted, his wrists struggling instinctively to part.

"Look at me and say it, Tristan."

That purr went through Mcford's entire being, lifting his head whimpering, biting his lip, he loved the tease, feeling so close to the edge and having Walter deny him...he begged to some god out there that Walter would finish it at least, it was so intense, he knew his clothes were stained with precum, Beckett seemed to enjoy reminding him he knew it was there by playfully tapping a finger over the tip of his cock where the damp patch was.

"Yes...I'll work for you....I have mmmphn wanted to since I ahh first saw you... Oh my god..."

Walter smiled, watching him, listening to him, oh how blue his eyes looked when his cheeks were this flushed, absolutely gorgeous.

"Oh Tristan there is no god, only me and my loving hands."

He returned, unbuckling Tristans belt and reaching in, blushing a little himself as he watched Tristans eyes nearly roll up, his head falling forward.

Tristan watched as Walter finished him off how desperately he wanted to hold onto him, press fingers into his back, he couldn't remember the last time he came this fucking hard or if he'd ever...he was speechless...breathless and fuck he'd made a mess of them both.

He was putty in Walters hands, feeling a claw lift his head again, moaning softly still, his body was tingling all over

"Welcome to the team Killian."

Beckett said sweetly before leaning in and kissing him.

[nyctophilin]

A little rant

Hi! So, I have seen this post, and I told myself “This shit can’t be real!” so I decided to exit the page and enter it again and the post was still there. So I did it again and again and again and the post was still there. So this shit is real! Okay. :D

The op said that people got her hot and you know what? She got me hot too, so let’s talk about this. There were so many...things going on in that post and honestly, I am still trying to convince myself that it’s real. Fortunately, op broke it down in three sections so it will be easier for me to address that hot mess.

Warning: I have mentioned some triggering things in here like r@pe, abuse in BDSM relationships, sexualisation, spreading of personal information. Please proceed with caution.

Let’s start with section A, shall we? This whole section is about people being uncomfortable with other people writing smut. OP starts this section by saying “something people need to realize is not everyone is a soft stan or minor.” and they are right. However, there is a difference between being a hard stan and straight-up sexualising someone. 

There is nothing wrong with writing smut, but how you behave outside of that smut fic is what defines you. Some of the writers they are defending just straight up sexualise the boys. There is no creativity there. Being turned on by Hyunjin talking to his dog and sexualising something that Chan said as a response to a mean comment is another level of disgusting that some people have reached. There is no hard stan behaviour in all that, there is just disgusting people behaviour. The fact that they are “adults” does not excuse it.

Another thing they said in the A section was “as writers they can do what they would like to when it comes to their content.” and they are right here too. Is not like we can stop them from continuing to post whatever the fuck they want. However, that doesn’t mean that what they post is right and people shouldn’t be upset about it. Lolita mangas is a thing people do because they want to. Does it make it right? No. Writing fanfiction about real-life terrorists is a thing that people do because they want to. Does it make it right? No. So when someone comes for your favourite smut writer with other arguments besides “I don’t like it.” and points out problematic things with the fic then you have no right telling people to “just dont read their content.”. There are writers that write r@pe fanfiction, abusive BDSM dynamics, sexualising little space, romanticizing mental illness and many more and people have all the rights to be upset about this and call them out. So even if it “makes absolutely no sense” I will “take time out of my day to question a writer’s content” not because I don’t like it, but because it’s wrong. Believe it or not, some things are just wrong, whether people like them or not.

Moving on to section B and this is the one that upset me the most. This section is about how some people are uncomfortable with the age gap between idols and writers that are adults. To sum it up for you because I am not about to quote the whole shit, OP is basically telling us that as long as both the idol and the writer are adults then the age difference shouldn’t matter.

First of all, let’s not talk about how hellbent has been used totally wrong in this context and it took me a moment to realise what they meant, but yes, some people are really fixated on the age difference between idols and writers. You can’t come at me with the bullshit that “it shouldn't matter if everyone in question is an adult.” because you are saying that an almost 30 years old having sexual fantasies about a 19 years old is okay. It’s not. The 19 years old is fresh off of high school and the 30 years old has been working for 6 years. If you wouldn’t be okay with it happening in real life then you shouldn’t be okay with it happening to an idol. 

Some smut writers don’t even write for Jeonging because they say that it’s uncomfortable having this big age difference between them and that they can’t see themselves having sexual fantasies about a senior in high school/freshman in college. If they feel like that and understand the concern people have regarding this matter then so can the other writers in a similar situation. There is no excuse here. If you are a 28 years old thinking sexually about an 18/19 years old(because this is what you need to do in order to be able to write smut) then that is just disgusting. Period.

Second of all, I won’t even talk about the “mathematical representation” part. That whole bit it’s just pure garbage. Just take the whole part and throw it away. This is not a situation that you should represent using math. We are talking about real-life people here, not numbers. What if you were 19 and had a 30 years old write their sexual fantasies about you? Would you feel comfortable with that? Of course, the boys know that the fans have sexual fantasies about them. They are not stupid. However, and this is just my opinion, I don’t think that the first people that come into Jeongin’s mind when he thinks about that, are people approaching or being in their 30s.

Now, part C and this one is a handful. This was supposed to be about minors being upset that adults gatekeep smut but I don’t know if it really respects the theme. It starts with the question “if youre a minor and you get upset over adults writing smut then truly what are you doing??” and this is exactly what they are doing. They are getting upset that adults write smut. It says it right there, in the question. Honestly, this has nothing to do with the “gatekeeping smut” part. If you wanted it to be about that, then it should have been structured in a whole other way.

But anyway, they continue to say how minors interacting with NSFW is wrong and they shouldn’t do it and I fully agree and I have stated this before. They should not partake in this kind of activities because it was not meant for them, but I have never seen anyone say anything about “gatekeeping” smut. Minors are upset at the hypocrisy. And believe it or not, minors writing erotica is not illegal. It’s very much legal. Is it morally correct? Absolutely not and it’s best if they don’t go down that path because it will only harm them. But can you do anything to stop them? No. The only thing you can do is ask them to stop writing it and if they refuse is best to block them. But again, I don’t support minors doing that and I hope they don’t.

Also, don’t even dare tell me about adults that have minors dni or 18+ in their bio. I know for a fact that 80% of those people go and interact with minors themselves. How come you say don’t interact and then you are the one to interact? And on your NSFW blog? At least make a SFW one. None of those people actually care about keeping minors “safe”, although it is a nice impression that you have about them. With the spreading of personal information, keeping minors that write smut secret and telling possible minors to not reveal their age so they can keep interacting with NSFW content, none of those people actually care about minors. They only care about their asses. But again, it is a nice impression you have of them.

Then they go on and say “some minors think theyre mature enough to handle that shit.... NO NO YOU ARE NOT” as if turning 18 magically makes you mature enough. It doesn’t. You still have the 17 years old mentality you had the day before your birthday. I am not saying that minors are mature enough to do that, but again, is anyone mature enough for the r@pe fics and unhealthy BDSM dynamics?

And because OP screamed in that next part, so will I. HOW ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO “GO READ SOME FLUFF OR ANGST” WHEN THE TAGS ARE FULL OF DAMN SMUT? FIRST HAVE SMUT WRITERS STOP TAGGING THEIR SMUT FICS IN THE FLUFF AND ANGST TAG AND THEN THEY WILL GO AND DO THAT TOO.

And this wasn’t planned, but we also have a bonus part. This is so exciting! They say “STOP TREATING STRAY KIDS + EVERY OTHER DAMN KPOP GROUP LIKE BABIES!” and I have been saying this for ages. And you know what I am about to say. However, doing any of the things mentioned in this post cannot be called infantilizing. Wishing that people wouldn’t sexualize or write problematic fiction about them is not babying. Getting uncomfortable when someone 10 years older than an idol has sexual fantasies about them is not babying. Stop acting as if people wishing that other people would stop pursuing disgusting behaviours is wrong.

And please “these grown men”. I almost laughed. The only man that can be called grown there is maybe Chan, but people from Hyunjin to Jeongin are definitely not grown. They are in the process of growing and becoming grown, but they aren’t grown. Of course, people are aware that they know about sex, but they shouldn’t have to deal with having r@pe fics written about them or having people much older thirst about them. And if you don’t agree with that, oh well, that’s sad.

[macorni]

Talk To Me

  Ship: Moceit

Date I wrote this: 12/10/20 (December 10th, 2020.)   

  Mini-Fic                                TW: Arguing, crying, self-harm in a way, unhealthy coping, and swearing. Just Janus Angst.                                                janus angst

Word Count: 2023 

Janus felt as if the world was ending, his best and only friend broke up with him (meaning they're no longer friends) after a misuse of words during an argument, Janus covered his mouth and laid on his bed to soften any cries and to be at least comfortable The argument was silly and useless, Janus recently gotten back from another discussion with the Light Sides and Remus was there waiting for him, "You might as well be another Virgil." Remus told him, Janus raised a brow, "What is that supposed to mean?" Remus rolled his eyes, "It means you're going to friend them and leave me alone, even if you say you're not leaving, as Virgil once said, 'I will not leave.' But we all now know that was a lie. So, are you gonna leave as well?" Janus was taken back by that statement.

"What? That is prosperous! No I will not." Janus gritted through his teeth, he hated to be compared to that emo. He felt a bit of himself die when Remus said, "You're a liar, how am I supposed to know, Deceit?" Now, Remus knows Janus's name, so it hurt to be called 'Deceit' when he's not Deceit, he is Janus. He didn't want to be only seen as Deceit, just how Remus didn't want to be seen as only 'Intrusive Thoughts' but he kept his mouth shut about that statement, "I don't lie all the time, you should know that, but again, you're a monster, not logical." Janus felt the words slip through his mouth. It sounded so sour and harsh but in such a careless tone. It sounded like nothing at all. Remus's breath fastened, and Janus slapped his hand over his mouth afterwards, it was a very loud silence, "Remus, I- Uh- I-" Janus stuttered but Remus interrupted, "No no, if that's how you feel then so be it." Remus snapped, going to his brother, leaving Janus alone.

That leaves Janus here, in present, sobbing on his bed. He didn't mean any harm but he speaks too fast, and words cloud his mind like air pollution and the words fall out like a waterfall. He shouldn't be crying, he didn't get hurt, Remus did. This was so fucking selfish and stupid. He gasped for breath but it seemed as if his lungs gave up on him, eyes watering and burning. He can't lose his one and only best friend, no, not again. He can't lose anyone else- first "O"(Orange Side who left to god who knows where when they were teens), then Virgil, and now Remus? Not to mention Roman will definitely tell everyone else and everyone will hate him more.

Janus shuttered at the thought. He can't handle emotions well, he tries to hide the bad ones, but he rarely laughs at anything at all anymore. He watched an 15 minute vine compilation and laughed- more of a soft huff- three times. Janus has breakdowns pretty often but he doesn't tell anymore or wants anyone to know, so when he does, he takes the anger and confusion out on himself, example being: He hits him, sometimes the head, or stomach, or the legs. He holds his breath until he is about to pass out. He scratches at the covered scales. He also rips up old photos, to the point where he makes 2x copies of the same picture because he will rip it eventually.

He decided to head to the library in the mindscape, or the light mindscape. The dark sides don't have much, which includes a library which Janus hates. He waited until he was presentable, tidied up his outfit, and then started to venture to the library. He'll definitely see Logan. Janus walked into the library and sure enough, blue boy was there reading a book about philosophy during the Ancient times and up to the 1980's. Estimated 500 pages from the looks of the thick dark green book with golden text on it saying, "Philosophy Throughout The Ancients to 1980's." with a smaller text with the author.

Janus disregarded the man, Logan and him we're on neutral terms, though Logan found it frustrating when Janus would deceive the others as him, and Janus found it frustrating when Logan would constantly lie about how he felt. Logan noticed the yellow side wandering by him, "Salutations, Janus." Logan greeted and Janus gave him an awkward wave, "Hi." Janus walked to a Psychology area and grabbed the books labeled, "Understanding Emotions." "Opening up." "Life Advice." and "How to deal and help with mental illnesses."  Janus sat down at a small table, 3 tables away from Logan, and began to read the first book, "Understanding Emotions."

Janus read for about an hour before Roman and Patton entered to hangout with Logan. Roman's face twisted in disappointment when he saw Janus sitting down, Patton smiled, he didn't mind the snake after the previous Sanders Sides episode, not counting the Asides. "Salutations, Roman and Patton." Logan told the two, waving. "Hi Logan!"  Patton smiled widely and Roman responded with a simple yo. The 3 we're relatively loud but Janus liked some noise then none. Silence was sometimes so violent, it drove Janus insane, being left alone in your thoughts. Patton decided to talk to Janus, and made his way to the other side, sitting down across from him.

"Hi Janus!" Patton smiled, "Hello Patton, do you need anything?" Janus asked, not many people willingly talked to him. Most hated him, including himself. "Nah, I just wanted to chat. We never chat outside of discussions, I want to know you better." Patton explained, Janus was taken back from his kindness, even if he didn't sense it, he convinced himself it was a lie, "Oh okay, I'm not very interesting, just a fair warning." Janus smirked, Patton giggled a little, "Everyone has some sort of interesting piece of them." Janus shrugged,  "I'm kind of ordinary. Besides appearance wise." Janus continued to read, "Whatcha reading?" Patton tried to read it upside down, and failed miserably, "A book about understanding emotions better." Janus told him, "Ooooh! Neat!" Patton moved next to him, leaning over and reading along.

"You should read funner books." Patton suggested, which triggered Logan's grammar sense, "Patton, 'Funner' is not a word, it is pronounced 'More fun.'" Logan said loud enough for him to hear, which caused Janus to chuckle, "Sorryyy!" Patton said fast, "I would but I don't feel like it has a educational benefit for the next crisis." Janus said honestly, "For someone who was people to self care and do what they want- if it's not dangerous- you really don't take your own advice, do you?" Patton explained, Janus paused, "W-Well that is because I don't feel as if I need it. I need to be doing my work and learning more. I gotta help Thomas, ya know." Janus found the right words to say. "You don't feel as if you need it?" Patton said, more quietly, Janus nodded. "I actually have a question, could you help me?" Patton asked, "Uh sure." Janus shrugged, looking away from the tan pages to the freckled boy, "Could you help me choose what gift I should get Remus for Christmas?" Patton whispered, not wanting Roman to hear, Janus nodded.

The two went to Patton's room, "So, Remus would most definitely hate a more colorful makeup pallet- since he does a lot of Special Effects Makeup." Janus suggested, "Ohh, thank you!" Patton smiled, writing that down. Janus got up to leave but Patton grabbed his arm which in response, Janus flinched and pulled away a bit, "Uh, yeah?" Janus asked, "Can we talk?" Patton asked, Janus sat down, nodding. "Have you actually been taking care of yourself?" Patton asked, Janus hesitated, "Uh, of course." He lied, "Janus, I saw your books. Are you okay?" Patton asked, as if he actually cared, which was way to absurd and unrealistic in Janus's mind. The words stung, does he actually want to know? Janus has so many questions, "Hey, I won't tell anyone anything, talk to me." Patton grabbed Janus's hands in a soft manner, smiling. Janus felt tears prick, "You don't really care, do you?" Janus asked, forcing the tears back down, "Pitying me?" Janus assumed. The light blue side shook his head, "No, I really do care," Patton started and Janus looked away but Patton took one of his hands and turned his face turns him and cupped his cheek in the same hand, "just talk to me, I'll listen." he finished.

Janus felt a single tear stroll down his face, nobody ever wanted to listen, he know he shouldn't but he does anyways, "Emotions confuse me. I don't know how to help them or react. Whenever something bad happens, I get obviously sad, and I began to cry too much or too little. And when I don't know what to do, I break down. I don't know how to.. stop breaking down. I always end up hurting myself or breaking some valuable. You're probably annoyed now, I'll shu-" Patton shushed him, "No no, rant to me, I like the sound, I like your voice." he smiled, lovingly, which made Janus confused on why he cared, "If you insist.. I can't talk to anymore or be my own self because I am too scared of being even less likeable, and if I open up too much it'll scare people away, make them uncomfy, or I'll be too much and they leave me. I-I just feel so lost and I do no good, even when I try. Maybe me leaving all together would help everyone, including Thomas. Having no denial or deceit may be good, but the bad of having absolutely no self preservation could do. I feel like him on auto-pilot now." Janus couldn't stop talking but Patton didn't mind.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'd be better dead. I mean, in the long run I'd be helpful if I just went awa-" Janus got cut off by a bone- crushing hug from Patton, "Just lay down, okay?" Patton suggested and Janus did, he laid down on the bed and Patton laid down too, the two facing each other. Patton wrapped his arms around Janus's waist and pulled him closer, and Janus wrapped his arms around Patton's neck, Janus's head resting in the crook of the others neck. "..See, just stay like this.. You'll feel better soon."

Janus felt the tears just pour from his eyes, he sobbed onto Patton knowing he'll never feel this type of love again. Patton rubbed circles into his back, Janus was so vulnerable, anything could just hurt him right now, a shaking, sobbing mess. Patton never knew Janus held in so much, he didn't know one of the 2nd most serious side held so much pain within, he knows that Logan is going through it too. "P-P-Please don't t-tell anyone about t-this.." Janus said in between sobs, gripping onto Patton and his shirt, "I wont ever tell anyone, promise." Patton said softly. They stayed like this for at least 15 minutes, then Janus stopped crying, he was just shaking.

"We can stay like this for awhile.." Patton told him, noticing the boy still shaking, "S-Sure." Janus repositioned himself so he was laying on his right side and Patton cupped him, rubbing his chest. "Cute." Patton told him, "Uh-huh, ssssssso cute." Janus lightheartedly said and rolling his eyes in a playful manner, and hissed, Patton giggled at this hiss. Janus took off his hat and threw it onto Patton's desk chair. "Thank you ssssso much, Patton." Janus smiled.

"No problem."

- Minific by m.acorni

[i-did]

If you dont mind me asking, I'm really curious about your opinion of kevaaron as its growing increasingly popular. From the perspective of pairing a (bi?) guy with someone who is homophobic in canon. Often times it seems like Aaron overcoming his homophobia is rushed so that him and Kevin can get together.

Hey! So this is actually a very interesting ask because it shows how prevalent fanon is, that even you anon have stated that Kevin is bi and aaron is homophobic.

Aaron's homophobia is complicated but in my opinion there, especially considering it is 2006 and he is a straight guy. He definitely shows signs of being the "I'm not homophobic just don't shove it in my face/do stuff like that so public" type of homophobia. He is often HC as ace, sometimes ace/aro to combat this flaw and make him more likeable in a similar way people do with Kevin's homophobia.

Thats right! Kevin is probably homophobic! He never says a slur like seth, but going off of context he is about the level of homophobic as aaron, but in a much more dismissive rather than disgusted way. He says "it would be best for neil to remain heterosexual" (not a direct quote but you get the idea) this line is often used as evidence that kevin is bi in a similar way that Aaron's discomfort is used as evidence for him being ace. This type of dismissal and belief that being queer is a choice, is harmful. I've been told by a family member to stay in the closet because my life would be easier, and thats by someone who doesn't think its a choice.

Ace aaron isn't nearly the level of fanon as Kevin is bi is. But the other common HC of kevin is that he's ace/aro as well.

Again, as always, people can headcanon and interpret and interact with canon however they want. I think its just good to notice the line between fanon and canon. Fanon is inherently self indulgent.

I like to keep Aaron straight and homophobic because I think its important to show, and how people who are homophobic aren't secretly gay/bi the whole time trope. Also, ace people can be homophobic. Anyone can be homophobic. Its mostly straight people, but lesbians, bi non-binary people, ace women, gay men etc can be homophobic. Each group of queer person experiences homophobia uniquely, lesbiphobia is not the same as mlm homophobia, which is often based in femphobia, misdirected trans misogyny, and misogyny. And in fandom/media mlm homophobia takes on a whole entire form of fetishization (which isn't always inherently sexual).

Now! For my opinion on kevaaron.

I dont like it lol.

People can like what they like but personally if I don't like something I filter the tag and I have kevaaron filtered because I don't want to see it.

I think there is over emphasis on mlm ships with no chemistry over wlw ships that are arguably with more chemistry.

Overcoming your internalized homophobia is a real thing a lot of gay men have to face. And its hard, its really hard. And its not a thing to be rushed. A lot of peoples first gay relationship is really unhealthy because of this, dating someone who is closeted or freshly out, or being closeted or freshly out yourself is taxing.

Aaron and Kevin have less chemistry than renee and dan, (nora originally mentioned wanting them to maybe have something between them)

Most ships with aaron in my opinion seem to be based in the fact that it would be so cute for this short grumpy boy to be with someone so much taller, it also seems like a work around a lot of times with andrews trauma because you have his twin there.

Ships with aaron and matt are kind of funny to me because about all they share is a history with drugs. That's about it. Aaron is grumpy and matt is... actually not as sunny as fandom depicts him he's a lot more chill and less bubbly in canon but eh thats not really based in anything bad besides simplifying characters for fics and fandom.

I've never read a kevaaron fic but I wouldn't be surprised if they are rushed feeling like you said.

I still have internalized homophobia lol, and I've been out for 6 years now. its not an easy thing to undo.

Again I will state fandom is inherently self indulgent, I just also think that the core messages of the canon shouldn't be ignored and that people shouldn't say x charcters doesn't even have that flaw in canon. Characters are always multi faceted and complex if they're well written. They don't always have to be likeable. That's what makes them good, makes them foxes.

Its okay to like a character who is homophobic in canon and HC what you want, i have so many ideas for seth who I love, but I also want to make sure I dont fall into the "psych he wasn't a real homophobe-he was queer the whole time!" Trope because it inherently blames gay people for the homophobia they experience by making it a inter community issue where gay people just need to learn to not hate themselves, and "hahaha wouldn't it be so funny if this homophobe was gay, that'll show him" as if being gay and hating yourself and others is... a good thing to wish on others and the gay community. The truth is some, in fact most, homophobes are straight people.

That being said I have a headcanon that kevin is bisexual, aromatic, but is with thea his whole life despite neither of them not being very happy but content enough, he never realizes hes aro or bisexual, and it follows basically Nora's EC after that. And aaron is straight and haloy with kaitlyn but sometimes wonders if he held on so tightly and married her just because he already put in all that effort and not to prove his brother right when breaking up with her, but thats only when he's depressed otherwise he's happy and chillin.

There is a very low number of openly bi men compared to openly bi women "how many men would be bisexual if we let them" is a cool quote from tumblr, and an accurate one.

My headcanon isn't a happy one but in my opinion fits with canon pretty well which is why I like it. A lot of people don't ever fully find out who they are. That's the reality, and my fandoms elf indulgences are me giving myself more realistically canon "content" in my opinion. Thats how I self indulge but not everyone has to.

People who like kevaaron or aaron and matt, do you show the same support for renesion? For dan and renee, dan allison ? If not, why? They have the same level of chemistry, if not more.

Just some questions to wonder why you ship the things you do and why the bar for mlm chemistry is so much lower than it is for wlw chemistry.

[avanalae]

Hayden’s Cat

Here we go, all! Welcome to my fanfic for the glorious webcomic that is Hayden’s Notes! Please see the comic here on Tapas and check out the lovely creator, Yufei, here on Tumblr.

I warn you now that this is pretty much 5k words of pure self-indulgance. I wanted to write sass-baby Hayden with his reluctant softness taking care of something I made up so I could have a way of smothering and mothering the brat. So this is focused on Hayden and her, though Cat and Shy play a part, too, to varying extents.

So yeah, if that makes you interested at all, please enjoy! I’m not expecting many notes on this, but I didn’t write this for attention. I wrote it for myself and Yufei.

Fandom: Hayden’s Notes Characters: Hayden Carter, Cat, Shy, Original Female Creature Warnings: Mention of poaching and harm to creatures Rating: G Summary: Hayden is good at getting himself into messes and somehow coming out mostly alright in the end, sometimes even with a bonus! Things like a new artifact to examine, a riddle to solve, or a mystery to puzzle out. Or, sometimes, a new friend.

___

It had been entirely unintentional.

Completely and utterly coincidental.

Honestly.

…

Alright, so maybe he has a problem sticking his nose into things but that’s not a bad quality. People are curious by nature, after all. But maybe in his case it leads to more problems than anything else.

But no matter how hard he tries, no matter his attempts to not get involved, what happens?

He gets involved.

_

Hayden had been on the hunt for a rare artifact making the rounds through the black market in town. Something like a monkey’s paw, according to the rumors, but rather more catastrophic. It sounded terribly interesting when he first heard of it, and he isn’t in the habit on denying himself. Day three into his investigation leads him to a warehouse. Obvious and so typical Hayden nearly feels his interest drop into nonexistence, but he plows on.

As it turns out, though, he’s going to have to reconsider the source this tip came from. Not only is the artifact not here, but he almost stumbles right into the middle of an illegal creature circus. Scrambling out of sight and cursing himself for not noticing the silencing wards sooner, he takes a moment to assess the situation.

He should leave.

In fact, he takes two whole steps back the way he came, fully intending to do just that.

But then there’s a crack of a whip and a pained trill from the stage. He looks back and seals his fate. This is going to be annoying.

After a heavy sigh and running his hands through his hair several times, he straightens and takes stock of himself. Not much in the way of supplies, unfortunately, just the standard things he takes when he leaves his house. Which, granted, is much more than the average person would have on hand, but is not nearly enough to easily take on this whole mess. So, he uses one of his emergency disillusion spells with a sigh at the cost of having to replace it.

He keeps them on hand because so many places, especially the not so legal ones, use detection spells for things like invisibility. However, because they are so often in use (usually in said illegal places), they often don’t check for most illusions.

He has only half an hour before it wears off, so he gets moving.

_

Hayden is very frustrated.

He swats at the shisa snapping at him from its cage once again, only making the lion-dog growl harder. While not actually part lion, they usually reflect similar mannerisms of them. However, they are dogs and are beasts meant to ward off evil spirits. A double whammy. At least the hellhound is only staring intently at him, pacing restlessly in its own cage. He’ll set their cages to release after he’s long gone.

The birds had been easy enough to free, and he sacrificed another item to send an illusion out to the stage for the daltokki he had already released. There aren’t many more creatures after that, and most of them don’t even acknowledge Hayden as they flee. Whatever, he’s not used to being thanked, anyway.

Finally, he gets to the last cage (aside from the dogs, of course). It’s a small one on top of a crate. Inside is a young cat, likely not quite a full adult yet. Its curled up, staring at him, and Hayden takes a closer look. Its fur is dark brown, almost black, with bright eyes that are fully blue. There’s a slight darker hue that follows his movements, hinting at a separate pupil or the like.

Its unhealthily skinny and shaggy, with- oh. He steps closer, not responding to the tensing and hiss he receives. He can see ragged stumps on its back.

A katzengeist, he thinks as he runs through what he knows. A very reclusive and relatively solitary species. Not necessarily malicious but most definitely mischievous, typically heavily distrustful of humans. Generally small shapeshifting spirits with coveted illusionary capabilities, relatively limited power over the elements, and other minor abilities. They are born as cats with wings, though they can take many shapes as they grow in age and ability, they often have a preferred form aside from that one.

As it is, this one should be able to use its abilities to heal itself, to mend its wings and escape. However, Hayden is quite sure it is currently unable to. He glances between the undernourished form, weak trembling, and the iron cage. Signs that it wouldn’t be able to escape, let alone survive on its own for now.

He sighs and mentally rolls his eyes at himself. He is going much too soft. None of the others had been in good shape either, but at least they could run away. “Hey, if I release you, will you allow me to take you home and treat you?”

The swishing tail stills, and the threatening rumble stops. It stares at him incredulously.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. I can show you my home and you can stay there until you recover.” Its tail flicks once but otherwise it remains still. “You won’t be alone, of course. Other creatures stay with me or tend to come and go.” There’s faint noise coming from the stage now, clapping, possibly.

Hayden gives it a moment, trying to be patient. It pays off when the katzengeist huffs and relaxes. He nods and opens the cage quickly, helping it out of the confined space. With the catlike creature in his arms, he takes one last once-over of the room and checks the cages with the growling shisa and the tense hellhound.

Then he’s gone, hurrying away so the dogs can escape in time. He may hate the beasts, but he hates abusive humans more.

_

The katzengeist is mostly limp in his hold, but the weight is hardly an issue with its unhealthy size. He gets some struggle when he maneuvers it to check for immediate injuries and barely dodges another scratch to the face when he checks for gender. “Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check. I didn’t think you’d be up for answering me right now, don’t give me that look.” He gets an annoyed huff in response. “Besides, I didn’t want to keep calling you ‘it’ in my head when there was an easy way to check. I imagine I won’t be getting your name anytime soon, so I guess I’ll call you ‘Little Lady’ for now, if that’s fine.”

He’s almost to the library when he finally gets a response. So long, in fact, that he doesn’t realize what it was a response to, at first. But she goes limp in his hold and whacks his arm with her tail. A reluctant agreement, but agreement, nonetheless. She stays compliant as he adjusts her to dig his key out of his pocket and open the door to his place.  

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Hayden says dramatically, spreading the arm that isn’t holding Little Lady with some flair as they enter. Tossing the keys aside he strides over to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll like it here, for however long you end up staying. You’ll meet everyone in time, it’d take forever to try and introduce you, considering how often they all like to hide away or come and go.” When he reaches the bottom, it’s unusually quiet. Not very surprising, it often is when someone else comes in with him, let alone someone or something unknown.

“Everyone, this is Little Lady. We’re going to help her heal for a bit until she feels ready to go, alright?” Lady’s tail twitches at the shift in the aura of the room. It’s not benign, but it’s welcoming enough to assure Hayden that no one or nothing is going to jump out right now. “See, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll all get along fine.”

Hayden carries Little Lady over to the small table he set aside for treating injuries. A little health station of sorts. Not that he usually needs it, but it’s handy to have in situations like this. The young katzengeist is docile as he treats her, cleaning her up the best he can before covering the wounds. He’ll assume for now that until she’s stronger things will be slower to heal.

“Alright,” he comes back to check on her, “I’ve set up a little corner for you that you can adjust to your liking.” He holds out his hands and she sighs before leaning into him so it’s easier to pick him up. He holds her gently and carries her over to the basket where he’d added several soft blankets, towels, and other scraps he could find. The basket is a large thing from an old job, so he thinks it’ll work fine if she decides to grow some more while she’s here. “I added what I could find on short notice. You can poke around later to see if there’s anything you’d like to add. I just ask that you leave anything that looks like it’s being used or is in the closet alone.”

She pokes around at the cloth as she settles in, nudging things around as she adjusts her new temporary nest. “I’m sure you’ll leave the artifacts and such alone. I’m not sure why anyone would want things like that in their beds, regardless of having seen the things I have.” He grimaces at the thought but is quickly distracted as she finishes curling up. She’s mostly buried under the blankets, but she seems quite comfortable. “Alright, I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’ll have some food for you in the morning, sorry that I don’t really have anything right now. There’s water for you here,” He gestures to a small bowl near the basket and stands to stretch.

He walks away to get ready to meet with his own bed at last. Once he’s tucked under the covers, he finds himself listening for the soft breathing of his new tenant. It’s soft, but not nearly as labored as it was, with the occasional sigh along with the rustle of the blankets when she shifts.

His fingers find a familiar scar to rest on.

“Humans truly are… the cruelest of species, aren’t they?”

_

The next week isn’t too unusual, even with his new visitor. Little Lady is rather quiet and hardly leaves her little nest except to eat, use the facilities (she’d nearly bit him when he suggested a litterbox so he just leaves the bathroom available for her), and sit near him on occasion when he’s working on a project.

Shy had come out the third day of her stay and they had hit it off surprisingly well. His familiar is the only one she’ll let close, though that’s not a surprise, considering how cute the shadow speck can be. She also seems to at least tolerate the calbri – an ancient spirit that takes the form of a hummingbird – that he had stolen from poachers to study before returning it home. It’ll flutter around her and occasionally she’ll let it rest on her head.

Like he thought, she was getting stronger quickly. She moved much better, often hopping up on the table to see what he’s working on, and her wings had almost fully reformed. She appeared to have wings similar to a blue morpho butterfly, and he was hoping that she’d let him take a look before she left. He’d not seen one with insect wings before, though really, he’d only seen two and that was on accident and didn’t end well for him, so he probably shouldn’t count it.

_

Two weeks in, he brings home a pod.

When Cat first blooms, Little Lady starts sitting by its pot more often. Cat grows more quickly than a regular plant, of course, but she hardly seems to leave its side before it is 3 feet tall and much more active. Hayden is already growing fond of the pretentious little plant. It has plenty of personality, that’s for sure, and seems to be quite happy with him.

Speaking of, however… He glances at Lady. She’s almost completely healed at this point. Her wings are fully formed again, large and glimmering. She has put on weight, looking much healthier and is moving without any issue. But something seems to be holding her back, something that is weighing on her. Perhaps she’s thinking about asking to stay.

Hayden rubs the back of his neck.

He guesses he wouldn’t mind. She’s not usually any trouble, at least not to him. She is quite the trickster and gives as good as she gets when the others prank or pester her, but she doesn’t usually go out of her way to do so unless she’s quite bored or has a reason. She seems to enjoy spending time with him quietly, as well, considering how often she sits with him as he works. She has also started greeting him at the door, of all things. Sure, it’s from a few feet away, but when he gets back, she’s there waiting. She’ll watch as he eventually makes his way downstairs before moving and leaping down to continue with whatever she’d presumably been doing before he’d returned.

It’s nice, in a way. The waiting and quiet company.

And Hayden was aware enough of his own selfishness that he understands he doesn’t want to give that up.

_

Three weeks later and Cat has continued to grow. Shy and Little Lady continue to grow closer, and really start involving Cat with things. It’s hilarious to watch, because Cat has a way of bringing Lady’s childish side out; he’ll find her leaping from vine to vine on Cat as Shy chases her or the other way around. Things like that. He smiles when he sees it, it’s good for such a young creature to start acting more her age.

To show that the fight hasn’t left her.

_

A month in, he notices Little Lady stares at him more frequently when she thinks he isn’t looking.

One night he spots her on the way to get a drink. She sits upstairs, looking at the door. Just sitting, staring at the door, almost completely still aside from the occasional twitch of her tail.

The next morning, he catches her looking at him again but this time she doesn’t look away. She stares at him intently, her tail flicking twice.

He quirks a smile and tilts his head at her but doesn’t say anything.

Guess there’s no getting rid of her now.

_

Several days after she had decided to stay, Hayden is working on a project. He’s focused intently on the sculpture in from of him, trying to decrypt the runes carved into the sides. His head is propped up against a fist while the other hand taps the pen he holds against the table. He’s aware of Little Lady being on the table with him, she’d been there for a while and was watching Cat when he last looked.

He blinks at a tap against his arm. He turns his head, not bothering to move otherwise, yet. He chokes a bit when he comes face-to-face with Little Lady. She is sitting right next to the arm he’s propped his head on, her tail tapping at him as it sways. He stills, watching her, and she… she noses at his hand.

Hardly daring to move much, he slowly lifts his head and turns his hand just a bit-

And she leans in, her head fitting easily into the curve of his fingers. He scratches absent-mindedly, eyes sharp as she closes hers, letting him pet her for several minutes. He indulges her, relaxing a bit more himself, and manages a laugh when she butts her head against his hand to stop him. She turns and hops off the table, then, and pads off to do who-knows-what.

Hayden rubs his thumb and forefingers together, smiling. He can’t help but be glad at this moment, the first where she approached him instead of allowing contact for any number of reasons. But he knows what this means.

He’s the only one around here with human hands, after all, and nobody gives better scritches.

_

The sock in his hands is just a regular sock, he thinks.

Hayden stretches the material again, trying to identify what happened. He’s sure he had discarded this sock and its twin when the holes had become too bothersome. They were one of his favorite pairs, so he’d been reluctant to part with them, but sentimentality doesn’t help with blisters. Yet here they are, in much better condition.

He squints harder at it and takes off the one he’d just put on before noticing this to look at as well. They’ve been mended, it looks like, with some skill. They aren’t perfectly fixed, having been used far too long and far too much, but they could definitely withstand some more wear. He can’t help but try and puzzle it out, running his fingers along the fabric to find that they’ve been darned with thread, the color an almost exact match.

What or who would be mending his clothes? And how? And, actually, the better question would be why?

He decides to keep an eye out for now.

_

Little things go missing, sometimes, though certain things reappear after a while. His clothes, specifically.

On one memorable occasion, he’d thought he’d misplaced a shirt he’d unfortunately be stabbed through on a job. But one morning as he was getting dressed, he found it hanging in his closet, as pristine as it could have been. Not a speck of blood or sign of the rip. Well, not quite, as he can feel the slight bump of the stitching when he looks for it, but close enough. Suddenly mad with curiosity, he throws himself into his closet. He doesn’t have much in the way of clothes, so it doesn’t take too long in comparison to some other things he’s done spur-of-the-moment.

Hayden finds that 3 of his shirts have been fixed aside from that one, along with half of his pants and most of his socks.

“What is…?” He narrows his eyes and thinks. There are only so many creatures in his apartment right now aside from him, and not all of them would be able to do things like this. And he’s not sure on how many of those would be willing to or want to do such a thing.

He thinks further, looking back on the last week as well as he can. He’d been out on RSS business for a few days and had come back quite annoyed, but with a new, exciting project successfully snatched out from right under Wolfe’s nose. He’d been rather absorbed in that, but now that he thinks about it…

He glances over to the table by his bed. The glass he’d left there last night is gone. Half-dressed, he jogs over to the sink, and spots it quickly – washed and placed on the shelf with the few other dishes he has. He makes his way around the rooms, finding little, innocuous things. The blanket draped over his favorite chair has been neatened, folded, and laid more purposefully.  The papers he’d scattered on the table in his search for a specific one are in neater piles, similarly to where they had been before his impatient search.

The chair at the worktable scrapes against the floor when Hayden falls into it. He hides his face in his hands, rubbing in sudden frustration. How, exactly, had he not noticed this? “Ugh,” he pulls on his own cheek in punishment, “I can’t believe this. Is this some sort of prank?” He sighs and slumps further. Cat prods him with a vine and he doesn’t bother to react to it, too caught up in thoughts of an invader or some sort of-

“Urk-“ he chokes as he’s yanked back, the chair almost tipping too far before it lets go and he manages to fumble for balance. “Cat!” He turns and glares, but Cat only whacks him on his forehead. He covers the stinging with one hand, “What in the world is going on with you?”

Suddenly Shy hops up from the table to his shoulder, making questioning noises.

“What, I,” Hayden blinks, “I, uh, I’m fine.” Cat raises another vine and he jumps back, almost sending the chair over again, “I am! I’m just, well.” He weakly waves a hand at the room at large. “Have you guys noticed the whole…” he waves some more, searching for the words, “cleaning, uh, fixing… thing?”

He trails off and waits for any response, but Shy blinks off his shoulder and Cat very obviously turns her attention to other things.

Huh.

Well, the fact that they blatantly know what’s going on is sort of encouraging. In its own way.

Kind of.

_

In the end, it takes an embarrassing week of trying to figure it out, one job from the RSS turned down (much to uninteresting), subtle and not-so-subtle interrogation of his “flat mates,” and rather more spells than he thought he’d have to use, he finally gets it.

In the end, all it took was just paying more attention. Which is so much harder than people think or say it is, Hayden swears.

He started paying more attention to the things that appear around him. A fruit or other easy to prepare and eat snacks happen to appear on the table when he gets caught up in something and misses meals. Sometimes things he’s quite sure he didn’t get on the last grocery run will appear, which is even more interesting. Things he’s searching for, like his chisel or a dropped screw, will be easier to find or will show up in places he thought he’d already looked. However, it’s usually just small things, but that might also be because it’s typically harder to lose something large.

All these little things start adding up and eventually Lady Luck pokes him at just the right moment.

_

It’s the middle of the night when it happens, and since Hayden’s been a bit more high-strung recently due to the mystery, he wakes when he hears a subtle noise. He blinks sleepily, but registers another noise before he moves, so he plays dead while trying to look around as best he can. There’s a bit of a shimmer in the corner and he blinks away the last little bit of sleep.

There’s a little ball of faelight floating just above a small figure, sitting on the cabinet in the corner. It’s rather humanoid, and Hayden wishes he had his glasses on, but he does his best. It looks a bit childlike, but another minute makes him tentatively decide on female, at least in mannerisms. Dark brown hair curls around her shoulders and luminescent blue eyes focus on what in front of her. She’s wearing a simple cover, possibly some plain tunic that is sleeveless and covers her down to the knee. He looks for the ears but can’t see them from this distance or through her hair.

He suddenly notices she’s holding a sewing needle, one that is probably as big as her arm, and Hayden realizes it’s a standard needle. He didn’t realize he had any outside of the ones used for stitching wounds. Unless that’s what it was, but he can clearly see fabric around her once he looks. She fumbles with the large (comparatively) implement for a moment before focusing and running the needle through the cloth.

It’s certainly an odd thing to see and he doesn’t realize what exactly he’s watching until she shifts, and little wings furl out to help her lift off the table as she pulls the stitch tighter.

He chokes and she startles, dropping the needle and darting into the shadow of the cabinet’s shelves.

Bolting upright, Hayden does his best not to fall off the bed, “W-Wait!” He stands, but falters in his first step forward. Swallowing, he stops, scratching at his cheek. There’s no noise or movement, all but the two of them fast asleep, though Cat seems to be stirring at his quiet outburst. He looks over, a bit closer and at a better angle now that he’s standing and sees the familiar bundle of his coat.

“That’s…” he sighs, and his hand rises to run through his hair. “Sorry for startling you like that, Little Lady.”

She doesn’t respond, but there’s a slight shift in the shadow.

After a minute of the quiet, he steps back and sits on the edge of his bed. “You don’t have to come out, but can I talk?” No response. “You’re sneakier than I gave you credit for, that’s for sure. I didn’t notice until about two weeks ago that something was up. Who knows how long you’d been doing it! It’s quite impressive.

“It really threw me for a loop, you know. I never bother with such things, myself, and haven’t really had anyone to do those kinds of things for me… well, let’s just say a long time since I’d even thought about it.” He looks over to Cat, who is definitely awake, and has little tendrils creeping towards the both of them. He doesn’t know for what, though, so he keeps on guard. “And I’m sure you’ve been going out to get things, like the fruit and nuts I’m positive I’ve never gotten before. And the mending…” He looks back over to the jacket, and then back at the shadow she’s hiding in. “Thanks, Little Lady.”

The shadow brightens, just a bit, with a soft blue glow before dimming quickly.

Hayden sighs, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have surprised you like this. I certainly didn’t intend too. I’ll leave you be.” One of Cat’s vines tickles his ankle and he lifts his foot away, bringing his legs up onto the bed. “I bet you knew about this, didn’t you, Cat?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Cat’s rumble is evidence enough.

He turns and pulls the covers back up, trying to let go of the surprise and other, lingering emotions so he can get back to sleep. He can see a faint light through his closed eyes at some point, but he lets himself just fall into sleep that had quickly started tugging at him.

_

The next day, his coat is hanging on the rack and Lady is nowhere to be found in any form.

_

Hayden starts growing concerned when a week passes and he still hasn’t seen her. The little things keep happening, especially the snacks when he gets distracted, but they aren’t as frequent. He’s a bit of a talker anyway, so he’ll occasionally mention something like he would if she were there or will say thanks for the snacks when they appear. Unfortunately, Wolfe decides to drag him out one day for a case and it takes a few days before he can escape back home. He doesn’t have any new toys, but he does have some interesting information to mull over for a while.

He lets out a gusty sigh when he closes the door behind himself, tossing his keys aside and his coat in the direction of the rack. He stumbles down the stairs, half tired and half annoyed at Wolfe, straight to the kitchen area for a drink. “I’m home,” he manages after a long draft of water, patting Cat’s head when it curls around him.

Wandering over to his bed, he sits on the edge, contemplating going to sleep for the night this early when he catches something. He blinks and looks over to the bed-side table and sees Little Lady. She’s sitting on the edge of it, looking up at him with those big, blue eyes. The cup he’d set down on the table is full of water once more and there’s a damp cloth next to it.

She watches him closely as he reaches out and takes the cloth, surprisingly warm and damp, though not wet enough to drip. He cleans his face of the dust and grime, feeling better for it. He keeps it in his hands as they drop to his lap and he looks at her, taking in more of the details. Her thick hair is has bit of a curved cut, falling to the just to the base of her neck in the back and to her clavicle in the front. It curls slightly at the ends, the newer, shorter hairs by her face curl cutely against her cheeks. The tunic is as plain as he thought it was and is a bit ragged. He doesn’t want to ask where it came from, having a bit of an idea already.

“Hey, Little Lady, good to see you.” She looks down and kicks her bare feet a little. Her wings are lax, drooping against the table and he hopes that means she’s not about to dart away. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks up at him again, still kicking her feet. He stares when she opens her mouth.

“Lia.”

Her voice is a bit bell-like, though still a soft tone. He wonders if that was always her name, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

“Nice to meet you properly, then, Little Lia.”

He can’t help but chuckle when she huffs and looks down again, a bit of a blush on her cheeks despite her frown. Cat shoves him a bit, but it’s not aggressive, so he lets himself laugh a bit more.

Little Lady.

Lia.

[css1992]

If you let me

Starker, 12k+ words

Warnings: explicit, nff, 18+, daddy kink, daddy issues, age gap (duh), brief mentions of non-con (not between main pairing), unhealthy coping mechanisms. No power AU.  

The thing Peter liked about older men was that they were easy to figure out, no games necessary. They were usually after one of two things: a distraction from a midlife crisis or an affair. If it were a midlife crisis, they wanted adventure, but it had to be a dirty little secret – after all, they were raised in different times, their family and friends expected them to fit certain boxes. These men liked pretty, young things to make eyes at them, play coy, pretend to be naive and sweet and virginal. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t usually do this, am I doing it right?” Peter figured it made them feel young, powerful, strong, so he played along.  

The ones looking for an affair were pretty amusing, too, they usually had a good family, a beautiful wife, cute kids, but they wanted more. Something fun, and new, and crazy, without risking what they had. Usually, this happened to men who never got to experiment in their youth – again, different times. So they got married, had children, worked at boring jobs, barbecued on Sundays and fucked guys like Peter on Monday after work, or Tuesday before gym, or Wednesday after their son’s little league game.

It was cool with Peter either way, he didn’t want commitment, but he did want a few things. A warm, strong body to hold him for a couple of hours; a thick, hard cock to fill him up good, and that sense of protection and safeness that came from being with an older man. The endearments that inevitably fell from their lips, the praises, the gentleness of their touch, the way they grabbed him by the nape of his neck with a warm hand and called him boy. Good boy. Baby boy. With no strings attached, they had reputations to keep and families to get back to at the end of the night, which was perfect.

Peter had tried dating younger guys, but it just didn’t do it for him. They were often too eager, too fast, too rough. Just too young, in general. Not that older men couldn’t be too much, too, Peter learned it the hard way, not all of them knew how to take no for an answer; not all of them were willing to stop if he asked. It was okay, though, because even the ones who didn’t stop at his request were usually nice to him afterwards, so – no harm, no foul.  

The man looking back at him from across the room seemed like a good one. He knew he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but he was gorgeous. Possibly the most handsome man Peter had ever seen in his short life. He must be well into his forties, if the wrinkles around his eyes and the graying hair at his temples were anything to go by, but his face was beautiful and yet so masculine. His eyes were kind-looking, bright and brown, with long eyelashes, framed by dark and thick eyebrows. His nose was thin and straight, almost aristocratic, but round at the tip, and he had a strong jawline and a well-groomed goatee, that framed the fullest, most kissable lips a man his age should be allowed to have.

He approached Peter with his drink, probably whiskey, judging by the color, and the younger man clutched his glass, smiling coyly when the gorgeous man finally stopped by his side,  looking at him intently.

“What’s a sweet boy like you doing all alone in this terrible place?” He had a charming smile that lighted up his whole face, it was almost blinding. Peter refrained from telling him it wasn’t a terrible place, otherwise such a distinct man like himself wouldn’t be there. It was a fancy, five-star hotel bar, Peter obviously couldn’t afford anything there, not even a glass of water, but he didn’t need to, every time he was there someone bought him a drink.

“I’m not alone anymore,” he smiled charmingly, sucking the colorful straw of his sugary drink. He hated it, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, the drink had been sent to him by a shy gentleman sitting a few seats away from him. “And I’m not that sweet.”

“Is that so?” The older man seemed amused by Peter’s boldness, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He gave him a shameless once over, eyes traveling from head to toe, burning holes in the boy’s clothes,  but he seemed more than happy with what he saw. “Could have fooled me.”

“I’m Peter.” He offered his hand and the older man took it carefully, like a gentleman, and kissed his knuckles softly. Peter shook his head with amusement, more than aware of all the tricks a guy would pull to take a boy like him to bed. Little did he know, he already had Peter in the bag, no games needed.

“It’s a pleasure, Peter. I’m Tony.” He held his hand for a little longer than necessary, then let it go, sipping his whiskey slowly, eyes fixed on Peter’s face. “You looked so lonely here, all by yourself, thought I’d keep you company.”

“My hero.” The younger man grinned, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, under Tony’s intense gaze. “Did you come by yourself as well?”

“I never come by myself, sweetie.” He wiggled his eyebrows and if it were anyone else, Peter would probably have rolled his eyebrows and walked away, but that man was so magnetic he actually giggled at the lame joke. “I’m staying here for a couple of days, came from California for a boring meeting with some boring people, and I was just heading back upstairs when I saw you needed rescuing. Can I buy you another drink?” He gestured to Peter’s nearly empty glass and the young man nodded with a smile.

“If you insist.” Tony gestured to the bartender and he came over so quickly Peter thought he might trip over his own feet, which was odd, because he was basically scowling at at pretty much everyone at the bar all night.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” The name sounded familiar, Peter was sure he had heard it before somewhere, and not that long ago, but he couldn’t place it.

“Another one of whatever he’s having. Put it on my tab.” Peter wanted to tell him that he didn’t want that pink, frilly drink, he could really use a beer, but again – gift horse.

“What was your meeting about, Mr. Stark?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, once the bartender hurried away to make his drink, and the older man narrowed his eyes slightly.

“It’s Tony, sweetheart.” He winked, downing the rest of his whiskey. He waved his empty glass at the bartender and he quickly nodded in understanding. “And what is everything ever about? Money, of course.” He shrugged. “You see, I’m plotting world domination, you need cash for that.”

“So I’ve heard.” He smiled, amused. His eyes drifted to the man’s hands when he accepted a new tumbler filled with golden liquid from the bartender, and Peter noticed that there were no rings on his fingers. “What’s your big plan to take over the world, Tony?”

“Clean energy.” The older man had a smart glint in his eyes when he answered, like he was satisfied with himself.

“Nice. Tell me more.” Peter wouldn’t usually take this long to drag a man to bed, but Tony seemed interesting and he was nice to look at, so he indulged himself a little bit. Besides, the bartender had just placed a fresh drink in front of him, he couldn’t let that go to waste.

“Well, it’s a little complicated, sweetheart.” Peter rolled his eyes, disappointed, but not surprised. Men like Tony would usually take one look at him and assume he was just a dumb, horny bimbo who couldn’t keep up with their wit.

“Why don’t you give it a try, sweetheart.” He mocked, seeing an amused smile take over Tony’s face, then he nodded.

“Fair enough.” He took a deep breath, scrunching his face up in thought for a few seconds. “Let’s see, do you know what a fusion reactor is, in theory? What it does?” He asked, and Peter nodded easily, sipping his drink. Tony looked doubtful, but went on anyway. “Well, so I created an affordable, compact fusion reactor that’s able to power all of New York City for a month with just a small amount of fuel.”

“That’s very impressive, assuming this is true. I suppose you’re using deuterium and tritium as fuel? Or just deuterium? How do you even meet the Lawson criterion? You’d have to heat the fuel to tens of millions of degrees, how do you produce enough energy for it to be self-sustained?” As the words left his lips, Tony’s eyes grew comically wide and Peter couldn’t avoid a chuckle.

“Who are you? Do you work for Hammer or something?” He took a step back, eyeing Peter suspiciously, so the younger man quickly shook his head.

���I’m just a waiter, Tony.” The older man continued to stare at him as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, or maybe he was waiting for Peter to confess that he was a corporate spy. Well, he couldn’t care less about any of that, he just wanted to get laid, so. “You don’t have to tell me how you did it, I was just curious.”

“Okay...” He said, slowly, approaching Peter again, carefully. He searched his face for a few seconds, then shrugged. “I’ll bite.” An amused smile stretched over his face. “It’s not like it’s a secret anymore, I did publish a paper on this subject just last week. Anyway, I’m using hydrogen isotopes with palladium, which means –“

“Cold nuclear fusion.” Peter raised his eyebrows, a little shocked, and the man seemed just as shocked by the fact the Peter understood what he said. “Are you telling me you cracked cold nuclear fusion? Scratch that, are you telling me you cracked nuclear fusion as a viable energy source at all?” He asked, still a little incredulous, but the older man looked really proud of himself, so maybe he was telling the truth.

“If you give me your e-mail address, I can send you the paper I wrote on that.” He sipped his drink again, giving Peter another once over, more carefully this time around. “I’ve gotta admit, I’m impressed, kid. I came here fully expecting to talk to an airheaded, slightly tipsy twink. I was planning to charm you with a few smart words and talk about world domination.” Tony’s smile was genuine and it was beautiful. He seemed so relaxed when he smiled, and so much younger.

“Is that what you like?” Peter cocked his head with a raised brow and a teasing smile, and Tony shrugged, still grinning.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He got a little closer and Peter observed with interest as he dragged his eyes lazily all over his body, making his skin tingle with anticipation. “Not tonight, though.”

--

Peter lay on the bed feeling a little dizzy and short-breathed, already fully naked – when had that happened? - as he watched the older man unbuttoning his crisp white, expensive-looking shirt, revealing a broad chest spattered with soft hairs, muscular abs and strong biceps. Peter was still trying to figure out what hit him when he entered that hotel room, Tony was like a force of nature the way he attacked his lips, hands roaming freely all over his body, like he owned him, like Peter belonged to him. It was thrilling and intoxicating and the young man was still dizzy, trying to wrap his head around what was going on, because that man could not be real.

He sure felt real, though, when his goatee prickled his sensitive neck, as those sexy lips left a wet trail of kisses across his jawline, then down his throat. Peter moaned helplessly, carding his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with short nails, biting his lips and trying not to make a fool of himself by moaning like a bitch in heat, which was exactly how he felt right then and there.

His mouth traveled down to his collarbones, biting across them with great care and the right amount of pressure to leave bruises, but not too many, licking the sore skin right after as if to soothe it. The older man stuck a clothed leg between Peter’s and he humped against it unashamedly, eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling Tony’s lips stretch in a smile against his skin.

“So needy...” He whispered hoarsely, before attacking one of his nipples, sucking it into his mouth, torturing the little bud sweetly by holding it between his teeth as he licked it with the rough pad of his tongue. Peter threw his head back in ecstasy, hips bucking up to meet Tony’s leg. His nipples were so sensitive, it was the easiest way to get him off quickly, and it was like the older man knew that, like he knew everything about Peter’s body, he played him like a violin. “Such a pretty boy.” He dragged his lips to his other nipple, his goatee scratching the sensitive skin of his chest. He’d have beard burns all over his come morning, but he couldn’t care less. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“Fuck.” Peter loved it when they said it first. He always felt awkward bringing it up, always felt weird asking to call someone daddy, or even just saying it out of the blue. Not that he ever received a bad reaction, but he was just afraid one of these days someone might not like it so much. “Fuck, daddy, your mouth feels so good,” he cried, writhing on the bed and rutting against the older man’s leg. His cock was impossibly hard and leaking so much precum he was worried he’d ruin Tony’s very expensive-looking pants, but not worried enough to stop. He could feel the older man’s hard-on pressing against his thigh and his mouth filled with saliva just thinking about what it looked like, how good it would taste on his tongue – fuck.  

Tony kept alternating between his nipples, sucking and biting them until they almost hurt from how sensitive they became – swollen and red from the abuse. Sensing it, the older man made his way down his abs, dragging his teeth and tongue all over his skin and quivering muscles, until Peter was no longer able to rub against his leg, but it didn’t stop him from trying. The older man stopped when he reached his cock and Peter blushed a little. He was always a little self-conscious about that part of him, he knew he was a little on the small side, but Tony didn’t seem to mind at all.

“You have such a pretty cock, baby, so hard already, you’re leaking all over, making such a mess.” His hot breath on Peter’s sensitive, flushed skin made him shiver, body trembling with anticipation, as he tried to breathe deeply to avoid a disaster.  “Daddy’s gonna take care of it now, ok? You just sit back and relax.”

He swallowed Peter’s whole cock in one go and the younger man went to heaven and back in a matter of seconds, eyes rolling, back arched off the bed, hands grabbing the other man’s head desperately, toes curling in warning. He moaned loudly, beyond caring if Tony would find it weird, his fingers were shaking, skin shivering. The brunette didn’t seem to mind, though, as he pulled back slowly to suck the very tip of his cock, only to go all the way down again, until Peter could feel the back of his throat and the way it squeezed his cock when he swallowed.

He was good, fuck, he was so good, probably the best Peter ever had, some guys didn’t even care if he got off or not, some didn’t even mind much if he was hard. Not this guy – fuck – this guy didn’t even seem like he cared about getting himself off; from the moment their lips touched for the first time it was all about Peter.

His hands traveled up Peter’s legs from the back of his knees, touch so light he could barely feel it, but a jolt of electricity traveled all the way up to the back of his neck, his hole fluttered around nothing, he was so fucking empty all of a sudden. Tony’s hands reached his ass and he palmed his cheeks hungrily, his fingers were strong and rough as they lifted Peter’s lower half from the bed to meet his mouth halfway. It felt so good, being manhandled like that by such a powerful, gorgeous man, he was going insane seeing that mop of brown-gray hair bobbing up and down on his cock, he was –

“Fuck, daddy, stop, stop – I’m gonna –“

He stopped almost immediately, letting his cock go with a pop and a smirk. He reached for the night stand, where a bottle of lube and a packet of condom sat innocently. Ah, he had planned it. Of course he had, he went to that meeting knowing that he wouldn’t come up to his room alone. Peter was just glad he was the lucky one.

Tony threw the supplies on the bed, then ran his wide, open palms from Peter’s thighs to his ankles, before placing them on his shoulders. He kissed both of his knees sweetly and Peter didn’t really know why, but it made him shiver, his nipples perked up and he gasped, biting his lower lip. Tony leaned forward, folding him almost in half, and took his mouth possessively, capturing his lips like they belonged to him, like it was his right. His tongue fucked into his mouth like a promise and Peter felt helpless and hot all over, hole quivering desperately, begging for touch.

“You were lying earlier, baby boy, you’re just as sweet as I imagined,” he murmured against his lips, before dragging his mouth across his jawline, his goatee scratching his face in the most sweet torture he could imagine. When Tony bit his ear, he felt his wet, slick finger trying to breach him and he yelped in surprise. Again, when had that happened? The older man made him feel so out of it, he thought he was missing time. “You okay?” He asked, seriously, stopping at once.

“Yeah, I’m good, just kiss me,” Peter didn’t mean to sound so needy, and he usually didn’t, but fuck. That guy was messing with his head. Tony smirked and obeyed; his soft, wet lips could almost swallow Peter whole, it drove him mad with want. He barely felt as the finger tried to breach him again, successfully this time, then went deeper and deeper until it was fully sheathed inside him. He whined into Tony’s mouth as he rocked against it, craving that sweet friction, that slight burn on his rim.

Tony fucked his finger in and out of his hole slowly, carefully, it slid easily with the help of a lot of lube. It was such a sweet kind of torture, the promise of something so much better, bigger –

“Fuck,” He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip until it hurt, as he tried to reign in the pleasure when Tony brushed against his prostate. “Right there, daddy, please...” He could barely form words when he felt the older man slide yet another finger inside him, as he kissed his neck soothingly. “Oh, fuck.”

“Doing okay, sweetie?” He asked quietly against his skin, fingers moving ever so gently until Peter nodded his head frantically and he chuckled, resuming his pace from earlier that night. He scissored his digits and curled them inside him, as Peter moved with him trying to get him to go deeper, faster, harder, he didn’t really know anymore, but he saw white when Tony found his sweet spot again.

“I-I’m not gonna last, daddy,” he warned, feeling another jolt of pleasure course through him when Tony pressured against his prostate yet again. “Pl-please!”

“You beg so nicely,” he whispered against his lips, drawing his fingers out of his hole. He sat up straight on his knees, letting Peter’s legs fall from his shoulders, as he started undoing his pants. “Are you gonna take it like a good boy, huh?” he asked, lowering his pants just enough to free his cock and Peter gasped, because it was fucking gorgeous – long, thick and veiny, and so fucking hard it was dripping, head flushed almost purple, it looked painful. “Do you wanna help daddy get it ready for your little hole?” He asked, stroking it slowly, and Peter up quickly, licking his lips. “Open your mouth, baby, there you go. Just the tip, ok? Don’t make daddy come too early.”

The younger man barely let him finish before he was licking and sucking the head of his cock into his mouth, groaning in satisfaction when the salty, bitter taste of his precum filled his mouth. He held the shaft with one hand, pumping it, and when he looked up he saw Tony with his eyes closed, mouth parted open and he almost came untouched right then and there. “Fuck,” he whispered, pushing Peter’s head away gently, and he whined unhappily.

Tony smirked as he got out of the bed to take his pants and underwear off, returning quickly to push Peter back onto the mattress. The younger man parted his legs, eager for what was to come, and Tony wasted no time, the blunt head of his cock started breaching him unrelentingly. Peter threw his head back, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was good, fucking perfect.

“Sh, shh, you can take it, I know you can, baby.” He placed sweet kisses on Peter’s neck as each inch of his cock was forced into him, and it felt endless, so big, it wasn’t gonna fit, it wasn’t –“There you go, baby, so good for me, such a good boy.” He whispered against his hair and Peter felt so full, his head was dizzy, he felt so out of it, light, floating, and so fucking good. “Doing okay there, sweetie?”

“Yes, daddy, feels so good,” He was able to answer, grabbing the older man’s face to drag him down for a filthy kiss. “You feel so fucking good, fuck me.”

“As you wish.” He grinned, pulling back slowly only to slam back into him hard, making him see stars. He set a hallucinating pace, hammering into Peter like a madman, hands clutching his ass, his thighs, his waist, leaving bruises everywhere. The younger man wrapped his legs around him for leverage as he rocked back against him just as hard, fingers leaving marks on strong shoulders.  Peter saw white when his orgasm took him by surprise – he hadn’t even touched his cock – and when Tony saw it, he lost it. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” He kissed him again, sloppy, dirty, wet, and Peter’s hole was sensitive, but it felt so fucking good, he thought would come again. Tony grunted against his lips when he came, hips bucking a few times, before his body fell limply on top Peter, the younger man’s legs falling apart to make room for him.

They lay there for what felt like hours, Tony’s body felt heavy, but good, it grounded him. He shut his eyes and let his fingers run across his broad back as they both tried to catch their breaths. After a while, Tony pulled off, placed a kiss on his abused, swollen lips, and got up from the bed. Peter hissed at the slight burn, but said nothing as the older man headed to the bathroom.

He heard the slick sound of the condom being taken off and thrown in the trash, then he head the tap running and, after a few seconds, Tony came back with a wet towel and gently cleaned his chest and stomach, and Peter smiled, eyes fluttering shut. He wouldn’t fall asleep, though, of course he wouldn’t. He had to go home, back to his own bed, back to real life.

The older man got back in bed and pulled Peter closer, let him rest his head on his chest, and they  lay there silently for a while longer, but it didn’t feel weird or awkward, it was nice, Tony’s fingers scratched his scalp as Peter’s fingers drew figures on his skin. It was getting pretty late, though, and he still had to catch the train. He sat up lazily, stretched, then got up to find his clothes.

“Can I see you again?” He was surprised to hear the older man’s voice. He turned around, already buttoning up his shirt, and smirked, as he approached the bed. He covered the older man’s eyes with a hand, playfully.

“I don’t know, can you?” He grinned when Tony grabbed his wrist, an annoyed huff leaving his lips.

“Cheeky.” He kissed his knuckles like he had earlier that night, then looked up at him with a resigned expression. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘give it a try’” Peter winked, smiling honestly. He wasn’t against seeing the older man again, as long as they kept it casual. He didn’t usually go for second “dates” - or fucks – be he could make a few rare exceptions here and there.

“Good.” He smiled that beautiful, genuine smile of his and got up from the bed in all his naked glory. “When you get downstairs, there will be a grumpy-looking man waiting out front. That’s my driver. I’ll text him to take you anywhere you need to go.”

“Oh, there’s no need, really –“

“Let’s skip this part, just accept it, sweetheart. It’s late, if you go out there by yourself and something happens, I feel like that’s on me, and I don’t need that on my conscience.” He took Peter by the chin and pulled him closer, giving him one last kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

Peter figured he didn’t mean it, he didn’t even ask for his phone number, but that was okay.

~-*-~

“How are you doing, man? It feels like we haven’t talked in ages.” Ned was on speaker because Peter couldn’t seem to find his one good, clean shirt that was supposed to be on the top drawer of the dresser, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“That’s because it’s been ages, dude. I miss you. Stop pulling that disappearing act, will you?” His voice sounded a little sad and Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I know, I’m sorry, life’s crazy when you don’t have a cool, tech job, you know? I’m killing myself here trying to make ends meet.” There was no bite to his tone and Ned knew he wasn’t being bitter, Peter was actually proud of him. When they graduated high school, his friend got accepted into Caltech and was hired by a big company right out of college. He had a nice life in Malibu, it seemed, but Peter never got to visit him.

“You could have one, you know that.” Again, Peter sighed, he hated hearing that familiar sound of disappointment in his voice.

“So, how’s work, anyway?” He changed the subject quickly, finally finding his shirt under the bed, for whatever reason. His phone announced a new message and a quick look revealed it was from Adrian Toomes, the guy he was supposed to meet in an hour and he was already running late. He seemed nice when they talked on Tinder, he had kind, blue eyes, but he was also a little older then Peter would usually go for, but he thought he’d give it a try.

“It’s ok, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Stark Industries is about to launch a new power plant that’s supposed to generate renewable, clean energy, at really low prices.” Peter paused for a second when he heard the name, but then it all made sense, why it had sounded so familiar. Ned had been working for Stark Industries ever since he graduated last fall. “So it’s been a little crazy, but it’s good.”

“Oh, yeah, cool.” He sat on the bed to tie his shoelaces and couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. He remembered that glorious night with Tony and it sent shivers down his spine. He hadn’t thought of that in a while, it had been three weeks since then and, sure enough, no word from him.

“Dude, you know I’m worried about you, right?” Ned asked and Peter flopped on the bed, sighing.

“No need to, Ned, seriously, I’m fine, I’m more than fine, actually.” It felt like the hundredth time that he had to say that in the last half hour.

“Really? When was the last time you saw May?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut at that, refusing to feel the burn of tears that were sure to follow every time he thought of her. He missed her so much, but couldn’t bear the look on her face whenever they met and she realized he’d never amount to anything anymore.

“I don’t know, Christmas?” He shrugged, alone in his messy, tiny room in Brooklyn, and he missed his tiny, old room in Queens, which always smelled of May’s nasty cooking.

“Dude, fuck, that was eight months ago, what about your birthday?” He sounded alarmed for some reason, and Peter flinched, because, yeah – almost a year. Almost a whole goddamned year.

“We talked on the phone. I was busy.” He muttered, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, like a kid who knew he’d messed up.

“Doing what?” Came the outraged reply.

“Stuff.”

“Peter, c’mon!” Ned sighed, frustrated, and Peter pinched his nose, shutting his eyes.

“Ned, stop this, it’s –”

“I just… You’re killing yourself, man, you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve to go to a good college, get a good job, have a good relationship with your aunt, who’s your only fucking family, and –“

“Look, I gotta go, I’m late for work. Catch you later?” He asked in a haste, sitting up and taking the phone from the bed. There were three texts from Adrian asking if he was close, and he typed in a quick answer as he flew out the door.

“Sure, man. Talk later.” As always, Ned sounded tired and disappointed, and that was exactly why they never talked anymore.

~–*–~

“Hey, Parker, table three asked for you specifically.” Brad rolled his eyes impatiently as he handed Peter the menu. “You always get the best fucking tables,” he grumbled, walking away towards the kitchen.

Peter took a deep breath and braced himself for what was bound to be a night of unwanted flirting and maybe even some ass groping, which was what usually happened when someone asked for him specifically. That place was a dump, they couldn’t careless if the waiters were harassed by the clients, as long as they payed for their food. Well, he hoped some good tipping was involved, otherwise he would lose his shit, he really wasn’t having a good day.

When he headed towards the table, though, he quickly recognized those smart, brown eyes staring back at him, that cocky smirk framing perfect, straight, white teeth and the honey-like voice that greeted him.

“Missed me?” He asked coolly, but Peter knew better than that, a man like Tony Stark wouldn’t casually walk into a dumpster in Brooklyn to have dinner on a Thursday evening. He was there for a reason.

“How did you know where to find me?” Peter raised his eyebrows, clutching the menu, and the older man just looked amused.

“I have my ways,” he replied unhelpfully, with a smug, self-satisfied grin, and Peter couldn’t help but smile back, even though it was a little creepy.

“Should I be worried?” He asked, placing the menu in front of the older man and, sure enough, he didn’t even try to pretend to be interested in it.

“Probably.” He shrugged, eyes never leaving Peter’s body, like they were actually trying to burn holes in his clothes. “So, is the waiter on the menu?” He cocked his head to the side, trying to look at Peter’s ass, and the younger man chuckled, shaking his head at his antics.

“I’m afraid not, sir.” He looked around to check if anyone was listening in on them, and once he was satisfied, leaned down a little to whisper closer to the older man’s ear. “But he gets off at eleven if you wanna ask him again.” A wide grin spread across the man’s perfect face, accentuating the little crow feet around his eyes.

“My driver will meet you out front.”

--

“Sh, sh, shhh, nice and slow, sweetie, nice and slow… There you go. Good boy.” Peter felt like crying as he rode the older man’s cock painfully slowly, knuckles white from clutching the solid muscles on his shoulders like his life depended on it. With one hand, Tony held his right hip firmly, dictating the pace, and with the other he was stroking Peter’s cock, pumping it lazily, as he kissed his jaw and nipped his neck. “Such a sweet boy.”

“Daddy, please, I need to come so badly,” he begged, eyes squeezed shut, hips twitching, wanting to go faster. He felt so full, and stretched, and perfect, he just wanted to ride the hell out of that dick and find his release, but the mere sound of Tony’s voice telling him to go slow was enough to pin him to place. Fuck, the things he’d let that man do to him.

“Not now, honey, I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” he whispered against his lips, before taking them roughly. Peter cupped the older man’s face with both of his hands, kissing him back with just as much hunger and despair, trying with all his heart to keep the slow pace that Tony imposed.

“You’re killing me.” He bit Tony’s lip harder than necessary and the older man smirked, biting him back, as his right hand left his hip to tug his hair. Peter moaned as he sunk back down on his cock, trying to take it as deeply as it could possibly go and it drove him a little mad when it brushed against his prostate for the hundredth time that night. He moved upwards until the head of his cock almost slipped out of him, making them both hiss, Peter’s dick was leaking so much precum Tony’s stomach was soaking wet with it.  

“You’re such an impatient brat,” he grumbled, tugging Peter’s hair hard enough to make him tilt his head back, exposing his throat, and Tony attacked it with soft bites and kisses. “It feels amazing inside of you, I’m just enjoying it for as long as I can, is it to much to ask?” His hand slid from the back of his head all the way down his back to his ass and Tony grabbed it roughly, squeezing his right cheek before slapping it loudly.

“You’re mean,” he whined softly, but he shivered all over at the words, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the cock inside him brushed his prostate yet again. “Daddy!”

“Take what you need, baby, c’mon.” Finally, sweet permission. Peter let himself go with abandon, holding on to Tony’s shoulders as he bounced on his cock for dear life, trying messily to thrust into the tight squeeze of his fist at the same time. “That’s it, baby, come for me, come on.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He slipped over the edge, falling limp in Tony’s arms, and the older man flipped him easily, lying him on the couch, manhandling him like he was a rag doll, only to pound him into the cushions, taking his pleasure from him like it was his god-given right. Fuck, he was so hot with his face all scrunched up in pleasure, in ecstasy, as he came inside Peter. He wished he could feel his seed sliding out of him, he really did.

They lay there for a while, breathing heavily, and again Peter felt like Tony’s weight on top of him was grounding and soothing. It didn’t last long, though, as the older man rolled off of him and headed for the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a wet towel to clean him up.

“How do you feel about room service?” He asked, once he was done, as he sat back on the couch with Peter’s legs on his lap. “I’m starving, that ting you called a steak hardly counts as dinner.”

“Ah, which reminds me,” Peter reached for his jeans on the floor, struggling a little. He pulled out the five hundred dollars Tony had left on the table from his left pocket and offered it to the older man, who raised a brow. “I’m a little slutty, but you do know I’m not actually a hooker, right?”

“What? I just really enjoyed the service back in the restaurant.” He feigned innocence but accepted the money back, throwing it on the couch. “I was just trying to show my appreciation.”

“I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation,” Peter smirked, parting his legs, making Tony laugh loudly.

“Starting with some food, how about that? You must be hungry, too.” He squeezed Peter’s calves, and the younger man bit his lip. He should really leave, he really wasn’t the type to stay around after fucking. It just felt weird and overly intimate to be with a person after you’re both sated, it seemed besides the point. Still--

“Sounds good.”

The older man grinned and quickly grabbed the phone to place an order, Peter couldn’t understand half the words he said, really, but he’d eat pretty much anything. Feeling a little self-conscious to be naked now that they were done, he crossed his arms over his chest, not sure if he should get dressed, or if it was rude or whatever, he really wasn’t familiar with that part.

“Are you cold?” Tony probably noticed him rubbing his arms.

“Yeah, a little,” he answered sheepishly, and the older man got up from the couch, heading for the bathroom again, coming back with two robes.

“Here. It is a bit chilly.” Peter accepted it with a sigh of relief and quickly covered himself with the soft, fluffy robe. Tony grinned when Peter snuggled on the couch like a satisfied cat, then walked to the mini bar in his own robe, which somehow made him look expensive and refined, not like he had just stepped out of a bath. “So, how long have you worked at that restaurant?”

“I don’t know, too long, for sure.” Peter smiled, watching as the older man filled two glasses with scotch from tiny bottles. “Why, do you wanna hire me? Not as an escort, I hope.”

“That wouldn’t be such a terrible idea. I could keep you on my arm like a pretty accessory, people would assume you were just a dumb gold-digger. Then you’d open your mouth and knock them dead with that brilliant brain of yours. I’d pay good money to see that.” Tony came back with the glasses then offered one to Peter, as he sat on the couch by his side. “But seriously, kid, you’re so smart. Thought you’d be doing something else. I actually looked you up to make sure you weren’t a corporate spy working for Oscorps or something, that’s how I knew where to find you.”

“Told you, just a waiter.” He shrugged, growing uncomfortable with the subject, and the older man must have picked up on that, because he dropped it immediately.

“Did you get a chance to read my paper?” He asked with a curious glint in his eyes and Peter nodded excitedly.  

“Yes, I looked it up, it’s genius! Where the fuck did that idea come from?”

Everything became easier after that, they spent hours talking about the arc reactor, how it worked, and how Tony got the idea for it. When the food arrived, they sat at the small table in the room and somehow ended up talking about Tony’s time at MIT – Peter’s dream college –, about Stark industries, what life was like in Malibu. Peter had no idea what he was eating, but it was delicious, and so was the wine. It was nearing 2AM when they finished and Peter started getting dressed.

“You can stay over, you know, plenty of room in the bed.” Tony announced from his spot on the couch, nursing yet another glass of scotch.

“Oh, I noticed.” Peter smirked, but didn’t reply to what the older man said, as he continued to get dressed. Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just kept watching Peter like some sort of predator.

“What a man’s got to do to get your phone number, huh?” The older man’s voice startled him when he was fully dressed and he turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“You could try asking for it.” He smirked, seeing a similar expression take over Tony’s face.

“Can I have you number, kid?” He asked, amused, and Peter pretended to think, tapping his chin.

“I don’t know, I kinda like my privacy.” He sighed, and the older man threw a cushion at him, making him giggle. He told him the number, though, and Tony typed it into his phone.  

“Is that your real number? Will you actually answer if I call?” He narrowed his eyes and Peter shrugged.

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest when Tony got up from the couch, approaching him slowly.

“Why do you have to be such a tease about everything, you little minx?” His robe was tied very loosely around his waist, his chest was almost completely exposed, Peter’s fingers twitched, wanting to touch it.

“I’m a man of mystery” He answered gravely, feeling the older man’s strong arms wrapping around his waist.

“You’re an asshole,” Tony muttered against his neck as he bit it, and Peter giggled, trying to get away.

“You like my asshole.” They burst out laughing and Tony pulled him into one last kiss.  

~-*-~

Walking inside that apartment felt like time-traveling. Everything was exactly how he left it years ago, May didn’t move a single vase out of place. He suspected that his room would still be the same, too, but didn’t dare to check. He sat on the couch and observed May’s features, she looked older. Still incredibly gorgeous, yes, but older. The only thing in the apartment that gave away that time had moved on.

“Mr. Delmar asked about you the other day.” She smiled, sipping her coffee.

“It’s been a while.” He admitted, watching her face become more serious as she nodded slowly.

Fuck, this was such a bad idea, he shouldn’t have come. Ever since his talk with Ned, he was feeling guilty about not visiting May, but sitting there, in his childhood home, with the woman who raised him like a mother, felt – wrong. He didn’t deserve to be there. He should never be there. He ruined her.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pete,” she could always tell what he was thinking – another good reason not to visit. “There was nothing you could have done to –“

“I was right there, May,” he cut her off, quietly, rubbing his hands at his face. They’d had that conversation at least a million times over the years and it still felt draining. “He pointed the gun at me first, you know. Ben protected me. I stood there, frozen, like a scared little boy. I didn’t –“

“What were you supposed to do? Jump in front of the bullet? Die in his place? Peter, he would never want you to do that, I would never want you to do that! You were like a son to him, to us, it was our duty to protect you, not the other way around!” She pleaded, desperate, and he looked away from her. No matter what she said, he looked at her, at how – broken she was, and he knew it was because of him. Because he couldn’t help Ben. Because her husband gave his life to save his, and Ben was a hardworking, kind, loving man, who had May and tons of friends, and Peter was just – worthless. He knew, deep down, May could see that too.

“Nevermind, I’m just gonna –“

“It was hard for me, too, Pete.” She said, suddenly. “I know you were a kid and you loved him like a father, but he was my husband. My life partner. It was hard for me, too.” Her eyes were shining when she looked at him briefly and his heart broke to pieces to see how devastated she was, but she looked away quickly.

“I never said it wasn’t, May –“

“But it wasn’t your fault. Never, in a million years, could anyone ever blame you. I just… I don’t know why you keep pushing me away. I know I’m not your blood like Ben was, but you’re still my nephew, no matter what. I raised you like a son.” She was crying openly now and Peter couldn’t even reach out to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry, May.” He covered his face with his hands, unwilling to look at her, unwilling to let her see the tears forming in his own eyes at her admission. “It’s not you, okay? It’s just – I need – I-I miss you, too.”

After Ben’s death, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bear to look at May. He couldn’t bear to be in the apartment. He figured they reminded him of Ben, of his parents, of better days, but it wasn’t just that. He was 16 when Ben died and it broke him, it took him back to that dark place he’d been in at 10, after his parents’ death. He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t leave the house. He failed so many classes, by the time they were supposed to apply for colleges, he didn’t have many options and, weirdly enough, he didn’t really care. May was devastated, she cried for months. It was hard, looking at her.

But she didn’t deserve what he was doing to her, so he sucked it up and smiled.

“I promise I’m gonna visit more often, ok? Are you free on Sunday?”

~– * –~

It was Saturday night and Peter was just lounging on his bed, after a long shift at the restaurant, when his phone ringed. He didn’t recognize the number, but he figured it could be one of the guys he hooked up with in the past, and he was really bored, so.

“Hello?”

“Ah, so this really is your number.” Peter was a little surprised to hear that voice. After he left the hotel, a couple of weeks prior, Tony never called or texted, so he thought that was the end of their little adventure. He smiled to himself.

“Took you long enough to figure that out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, kid, I meant to call earlier, but that whole world domination plan is still a thing, so I’m a little short on time. But I’ll be in New York next Thursday, any chance you could make some time for me then? Say, around nine?”

Peter bit his lower lip, considering. He enjoyed Tony’s company, he really did, the man was smart and funny, and he made Peter feel so fucking good when they fucked. He was also a great kisser, a very attentive lover and just generally a nice guy. The thing was, Peter couldn’t even remember the last time he had a third date with someone and, to be completely honest, he usually tried to avoid those, he didn’t want to send the wrong message. But Tony lived in California, anyway, and he only called when he was in town, looking for sex, so what was the harm in going?

“Sure, yeah. I can make that work.” He shrugged at the empty room.

“Sweet. Dress nice, I’m taking you somewhere fancy.”

“Oh, God, no, there’s no --” Peter rubbed at his face, already feeling anxious just to think about the sort of restaurants Tony usually went to.

“Hey, don’t even try, I’m gonna feed you before I fuck you, it’s common courtesy and I’m a gentleman. You just didn’t give me a chance before, you jumped me before I could even offer you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you complaining, what with your tongue so far down my throat.” Peter grinned and heard the other man chuckle.

“Happy will pick you up at nine, brat. Text me the address sometime this week.”

--

Peter was still a little tipsy from the fancy wine they had at dinner and the scotch they had later. Tony wasn’t kidding when he said it was a fancy restaurant, he felt weird and out of place at first, but the older man made everything seem so normal and natural, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his brain seemed to stop functioning properly around him.

They ended up back in his hotel room, where they had the sloppiest, messiest, drunkest sex anyone had ever had and Peter was lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, slowly sobering up as the minutes ticked by. Tony was sitting with his back against the headboard, running his fingertips lightly across Peter’s shoulders, talking about his PA, Pepper Potts, and how he couldn’t run the company without her, because he was such a slacker. He was still drinking scotch and Peter honestly had no idea how he wasn’t completely trashed, even though he was clearly not sober either.

“You were really young when you took over the company, right?” Peter slurred, sleepily, as Tony’s fingers slid up the back of his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp. The younger man closed his eyes, purring.

“Yeah, I was around twenty or something.” For the first time since they met, Tony’s voice was quiet, not booming with confidence or mirth, just quiet and soft.

“Because your parents died?” Peter whispered, eyes still closed, but Tony’s hand in his hair didn’t even falter, so he figured it wasn’t a touchy subject.

“Yeah.”

“How did you cope so well?” He opened his eyes and the older man was resting his head against the headboard, eyes closed, face relaxed and open, fingers still scratching his scalp. It took Peter by surprise how at ease he seemed to be around him, it made him blush and feel – what was he feeling?

“I didn’t, kid, I was all over the place. I got drunk every night, got high everyday. I fucked so many people it’s miracle I didn’t get some fucked up STD. My twenties are a fucking blur.” He turned to look at the younger man and he felt so small under his gaze.

“But you’re better now.” He whispered, trying hard not to break eye contact. The older man smiled.

“Yeah, this might come as a surprise to you, but it’s been a while since I was twenty.” Tony grinned and Peter raised his upper body, supporting his weight on his elbows. Tony slid his knuckles across his cheeks, and Peter’s eyes fluttered shut. “Did you lose your parents, too?” He asked, softly, and Peter thought about avoiding the question, but he was too drunk and too tired to be mysterious.

“Yeah, when I was ten. I-I was all over the place, too, and just when I thought I was getting better, I lost my uncle – and I. I couldn’t help him. He was like a father to me. I think it fucked me up for good, you know?” He winced while trying to smile, and the older man tried to smooth down the lines on his forehead with his fingers.

“Nah, it gets better. I promise.”

“That’s nice to hear.” He smiled, even though he didn’t believe him, and Tony could probably tell. “How come you never married?” Tony raised and eyebrow, amused, and Peter shrugged. “You’re hot, smart, rich. Like, people must throw themselves at you all the time. Are you a confirmed bachelor or something?”

“It just never happened. I guess when you have so many – attractive features, it’s difficult to tell who’s there for the right reasons.” He pinched Peter’s nose and the younger man scrunched up his face, making Tony laugh. “Why? Are you gonna propose? Got a ring hidden up this cute little butt? Let me check.” He playfully patted and squeezed Peter’s ass cheeks and he squealed, laughing hard.

“You wish!” He giggled when Tony started tickling his ribs, batting his hands away and turning over on the bed. “Stop!” The older man crawled on top of him, caging his head between him arms as Peter panted, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t have a chance to do so, because Tony started kissing him gently and deeply, slowly, and Peter melted into the bed. The man was such a good kisser, he could swear he must have taken a course somewhere or something like that. When he pulled away, Peter took a deep breath. “I have to go now.”

“You want to go now.” Tony corrected, but he was smiling. He rolled off of his body, not before leaving a peck on his lips. “Happy will be waiting for you out front. Drink lots of water, you don’t wanna have a hang over tomorrow.”

“You do realize you’re not really my dad, right?” Peter narrowed his eyes at the older man and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, no, trust me, if I were, you wouldn’t be this bratty.”

–*--

Bored out of my mind

Tony’s text lighted up Peter’s phone screen and he smiled, shaking his head as he pocketed it to serve his tables. That was a thing, now, apparently. He and Tony texting. They had been doing it for a few weeks, ever since the older man left the last time. He was fine with that. They were friends, Tony made him laugh, and there was the added benefit of sex whenever he was in town, there was really no harm.

His phone vibrated in his pocket a few other times as he worked, he figure they were more texts from Tony, or maybe even from May or Ned. He had been trying to talk to them more often and, slowly, it stopped feeling weird and forced. Slowly, it started feeling good again.

Once his shift was over and he walked home, he took a quick shower and opened his texts. There two from Tony, one with a picture of his bored face and another one saying “entertain me”. There was a text from Ned letting him know that he planned to come home for Christmas and a missed call from May that he’d return later.

More importantly, there was a notification from Tinder. When he opened it, he saw that he was matched with a guy named Quentin Beck. He was 38, so not a lot older, but still. He looked gorgeous, with pale blue eyes and a lumberjack beard. It had been a while since he had gone out with anyone besides Tony – actually, when he thought about it, he hadn’t really talked to anyone new in a very long time.

So when the guy asked him if he wanted to meet that night, he went. He didn’t really want to go, even though the guy was gorgeous and apparently very nice, but he went anyway. They made small talk in the guy’s living room, but they soon moved to his bedroom. He was okay, not amazing, Peter had to get himself off or he wouldn’t come. It was whatever, he felt a little used, a little weird, but didn’t think much about it.

When he got home, he texted Tony a picture of himself making a silly face, along with a text: “I hope this is entertaining enough.” Not even two minutes later, he got a text with a picture of the older man with a hand over his heart, making a dramatic face. “I’m not entertained, I’m in love, but thanks for trying.”

Peter laughed alone in his room at Tony’s joke, shaking his head, and for some reason, his night got a little better.

–*--  

“I missed you so much, baby boy.” Tony whispered in his ear from behind and he shivered all over, clutching the wooden headboard as the older man slammed against him, chest touching his back, arms firmly wrapped around his waist. Fuck, he missed Tony, too, so much, even though they’d been talking every day for months, they hadn’t met in a long time, Peter was climbing the walls by the time the older man announced he’d be in town for the weekend. “Come for me, baby, come on.” He wrapped a hand around Peter’s cock and it took only two pumps to push him over the edge, as he moaned loudly, hole clenching around Tony’s dick as the older man came, too, grunting against his neck.

After a few seconds catching his breath, Tony pulled away, still holding Peter from behind, kissing his neck, his ears, and tickling his ribs. Peter giggled, trying to get away, but the older man wouldn’t let him.

“Tony, cut it out!” He squealed, and finally the older man let him go. Breathing hard and still giggling a bit, he stepped out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom to clean himself up. “I really have to go, I’m so, so late!” Peter couldn’t afford to give up his shift at the restaurant, money was really tight that month, so he and Tony managed to squeeze an hour between the end of the man’s meetings and the beginning of Peter’s shift, but he was already running late.

He went around the room putting on his clothes, and when he was finally ready, Tony got up from the bed to meet him at the door.

“You need a new jacket” He muttered against his lips as they shared a final kiss. They both looked down at Peter’s pitiful jacket, there were at least two visible holes on it, and Peter knew there was another one under his left arm that Tony couldn’t see.

“Tell that to my bank account.” He joked, watching a dissatisfied look take over Tony’s face.

“Let me buy you one.” He asked seriously, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Tony –“

“Please. We’ve been seeing each other for what, five months now? I’ve never got you a gift, do you know how hard this is for me? I’m a billionaire, I like spending money on people, you’re killing me with this ‘no gifts policy’, kid.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, smiling, and the older man looked hopeful, arms tightening around his waist.

“So, what do you say? I have the afternoon off tomorrow, I could take you shopping.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Peter raised one finger in front of his face.

“Not shopping. One jacket. One single jacket. I mean it.” He said gravely, only to see a grin spread across Tony’s face.  

--

“Gorgeous. Exquisite.” He adjusted the lapels of Peter’s new jacket, then his new scarf, which matched his new gloves perfectly. They had just stepped out of the store and Peter was still a little freaked out that there were no price tags on the clothes and Tony didn’t let him check the receipt. “And cute as a button.” He pecked his lips.

“You’re impossible!” He said as Tony clasped a hand on the back of his neck and guided him down the street, walking straight by Happy and his car. Peter frowned. “Aren’t we going back to the hotel?” They had met at the store after Tony’s meetings were over, so they hadn’t got a chance to be alone yet.

“How about some hot chocolate first?” He offered, walking them towards a coffee shop just down the street, and Peter shrugged, agreeing. Tony slid his arm across Peter’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and the younger man tucked himself under his arm contently, sighing at the warmth.

When they got to the coffee shop, Tony told him to take a seat while he ordered. He stared out the window as he waited, thinking that Christmas was just around the corner and how fast that year had gone by and how much had changed, specially over the last few months. He smiled to himself, feeling silly and happy, for the first time in a very long time.

“What is it, did someone fall on their butt?” Tony asked when he arrived with their drinks, looking out the window curiously. Peter chuckled, shaking his head, but didn’t offer anymore information. He eyed the mugs of hot chocolate filled to the brim with whipped-cream and his mouth watered.

Tony sat by his side on the booth and Peter took the beverage with both hands, trying to steal some of its warmth, and when he took the first sip, some of the whipped-cream smeared his nose and upper lip. He went cross-eyed trying to lick it clean, and heard Tony laughing out loud beside him.

“Oh, no, wait, wait!” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and directed the camera at Peter. The young man made a bored face as Tony took the picture. “And that is my new wallpaper, thanks,” he beamed, turning to look at Peter again. “C’mere,” before the young man could react, Tony licked the tip of his nose clean.

“Tony!” There were tears in his eyes from how much he was laughing, even though he was punching the older man’s arm in protest.  

~-*-~

“I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this, ok?” Peter warned seriously and heard Ned agree eagerly. They had been talking more often over the last few months, just like he was trying to visit May at least once a weak. “I’m gonna start attending community college next year.” He bit his lower lip nervously, a little afraid of what Ned would think. May had cried tears of joy for hours when he told her, but he and Ned had once made plans to be roommates at MIT and he had graduated from CalTech last fall, so--

“Peter, holy fuck! Dude, I can’t – I’m so fucking happy for you! That’s what I’m talking about, you’re awesome, you’re gonna do great, and then –“

“Okay, calm down, like I said, let’s not make a big deal out of this, ok? It’s just something that I’m gonna try and it might not work, so chill.” He smiled to himself, a little relieved that Ned was happy for him, but what did he expect? He was the best friend Peter could hope for.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, sure. Of course. Super chill.” He was silent for just a few seconds, before he spoke excitedly again. “But I’m so happy, Pete. You’re – I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.”

“Speaking of seeing, are you coming home for Christmas? I miss you, dude, haven’t seen you in what, two years?”

“Yeah, I’ll come, and I have good news of my own! Are you sitting down?” Peter confirmed, amused. “Ok, remember I told you about Stark Industries new power plant and stuff?”

“Yes?” Peter blushed at the mention of the name Stark. Ned had no idea that he’d been banging his boss, so it was always weird when he talked about his job.

“It’s gonna operate in New York, they were putting together a team to transfer there, and guess who’s going?”

“Shut up!”

“Yeah! I’m going home, dude, for good! And best part is, I’m gonna work closely with Mr. Stark, I’m talking about same floor kinda deal, dude.” Peter froze.

“Wait, what? But I thought T – Mr. Stark lived in Malibu?” Surely Ned must be mistaken, Tony loved Malibu, he would never leave it for New York, that was stupid. He wasn’t coming.

“Yeah, dude, but he’s moving to New York next year, after they launch the power plant. He’s moving the headquarters of S.I. to New York.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Peter tried to take a deep breath, he just needed to rationalize this. They just couldn’t be together once he moved, that would be – they weren’t dating or anything, because Tony lived thousands of miles away, so if he came, it would be different, because they would be living in the same city, and just – really, they weren’t dating, Peter didn’t date, so they weren’t dating, so it was fine, he’d just call Tony and let him know that their arrangement was over, which was fine, he didn’t –

“Oh. Cool.” He remembered that Ned was still on the line.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I’m psyched!”

–

“Hey, Pete. Are you ok?” Tony answered on the second ring, sounding surprised and on alert. “You never call.”

“Sorry, did I disturb you? Can you talk?” He asked, nervously. There was a reason he never called Tony, he was a busy, important man, he had meetings to go and things to create and money to make, he couldn’t possibly have time for Peter.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up? Is something the matter? Are you in trouble? You sound nervous.” He could hear the concern in his voice and he bit his lips, feeling guilty. There was nothing Tony had to worry about, after all, it was silly, Peter was making a big deal out of nothing. It wasn’t like they were breaking up or anything, they weren’t even together to begin with, so. It was just a “no more sex” kind of talk. Nothing to be nervous about.  

“I’m fine, I’m okay, it’s – Are- are you moving to New York?”

“What? How do you know that?” He was surprised by the question, but didn’t seem mad, which was good, he didn’t want to get Ned in trouble over this.

“Just answer, please?” He pleaded quietly.

“Yes, I am. It was supposed to be a surprise, though, I was gonna tell you in person, after Christmas. What’s the matter?” Again, he sounded worried, and Peter bit his lips until he drew blood.

“It’s just… I… We – I don’t know, Tony, I’m. What is this to you – us? What are we…?” He didn’t know why the fuck he was going in that direction, he was just supposed to say they couldn’t fuck anymore.

“Uh, I don’t know? Does it matter? Do you wanna put a name on it? We can be boyfriends or whatever, but I think I’m a little old for that title, so maybe you could be my boyfriend and I can be your… manfriend? Significant other? We can figu–”

“Tony, stop joking around!” He gasped, shocked at the word boyfriend, what was Tony even talking about, Jesus, they weren’t – they never –

“I’m not joking around. I mean, I was joking about the manfriend thing, but otherwise I’m dead serious.” Fuck, no, this couldn’t be right, this couldn’t be true. Surely Tony wasn’t being serious, of course it was all a big joke, they weren’t dating, for fuck’s sake, they were fucking, that was it, nothing more, why was he talking about boyfriends, relationships – “Peter, you’re freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” He squealed, taking himself by surprise by how high his own voice sounded.

“I knew this was gonna happen, that’s why I wanted to talk to you in person. Look, it’s no big deal.” Why the fuck was he so calm and collected?

“Tony, this is not – we’re not – this is casual! It’s – It’s just sex!” He reasoned, hearing a sigh coming from the other side.

“Honey, c’mon, you know that’s not true. I care about you, and I know you –“

“I’ve slept with other men while you were away.” He blurted out, because that was very important information, that was proof that they weren’t serious. He slept with Toomes and with Beck and if they were boyfriends he wouldn’t have done that, so, clearly, they weren’t boyfriends, what kind of boyfriend would do that? No kind. No kind of boyfriend would do that.

“O-kay.” He said slowly, clearly surprised by the confession. “Okay, that’s fine, we haven’t talked about exclusivity yet, so you did nothing wrong, there’s nothing to –“

“Tony! I’m – I’m worthless! I’m a slut, I’m poor, I’m – I’m just a waiter, I have no future, you can’t  be with me!” He was really freaking out there, he could barely breath, he was sweating like a pig, pacing his room, and Tony couldn’t seem to understand what he was saying, why couldn’t he understand what he was saying? Wasn’t the man supposed to be a genius?  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid! First of all, take a deep breath, will you? Second of all, I’m a big boy, I can very well choose who I want to be with or not. And third of all, are you insane? You’re the smartest person I’ve talked to in years, you’re gorgeous, funny, kind and sweet, and of course I wanna be with you!”

“Well, I-I don’t wanna be with you,” He answered, voice wavering, but he was sure of it, of course he was sure.

“Peter, come on, you’re not thinking this through –“

“I can’t do this, Tony, I can’t. I’m not – I’m not boyfriend material, I’m – You’re – This isn’t gonna work.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, he was doing the right thing, it was for the best.

“It’s been working for almost six months in case you haven’t noticed, Pete, what --”

“No, no! We’re not – Look, I’ve gotta go, just – Just leave it alone, ok?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he just hung up the phone and threw out of reach. There, done. Easy as pie.  

–*--

Christmas had come and gone and it was really nice. He and May had take out Thai food after they ruined their attempts of cooking Christmas dinner. It was kind of a tradition for them. They would try to cook, fuck up royally, then they’d order the least Christmassy thing they could think of. Ned visited for a couple of days, they hung out in his room building Legos and drinking beer, then he had to go back to Malibu, but he was supposed to move back in February, which was nice.

Everything was nice and okay, life hadn’t been this easy in a long time, so he had no idea why there was a Tony-shaped void in his heart, when he was so used to that place to being completely and shapelessly empty.

It was the first week of January when his bell rang, he thought it was the Chinese he ordered, but when he opened the door, soft brown eyes stared back at him.

“Tony, wh – what are you doing here?” He stuttered, clutching the door, and the older man looked so elegant and composed and calm, what was he even doing in such a terrible neighborhood, he didn’t belong there.  

“May I come in?” He asked calmly, and Peter wanted to say no, because he couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want to look at him. But he couldn’t say no, so he stepped aside and let the man in. He stood there, in the middle of his ridiculously tiny and messy living room, and Peter closed the door, leaning against it, as if he needed a quick escape route in case of emergencies. He turned to look at Peter. “Not very nice of you to break up over the phone, hang up on me and then block my number, kid.”

“I-I, I didn’t, I –“ Before he could think of an answer, the older man raised a hand, stopping him.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, I’m here now, sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” He stepped closer to Peter, who in turn tried to become one with the door the way he pressed his back against it.

“I-I didn’t ask you to come. In fact, you should leave,” He muttered, looking down at the floor, until he saw Tony’s expensive shoes stepping into his line of view, so close to his sock-clad feet, and he blushed when he noticed that his socks didn’t even match.  

“Here’s what I think, correct me if I get anything wrong. I think you’re lonely – and I think you like feeling lonely, because it’s safer. I think you’ve isolated yourself from the people you love, afraid you’d lose them one way or another, afraid that you’d have to go through that pain again, and you’ve been avoiding getting close to other people for way too long. And then I came in.” Tony placed a finger on his chin, lifting his head gently, and Peter hadn’t even noticed that his face was wet and he was sobbing quietly. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bear to look at Tony’s face, afraid of what he might see there. “I know you, kid. I’ve been you.” Tony’s lips on his took him by surprise, but he didn’t flinch, he didn’t move away, he craved that touch, he wanted Tony to come closer, to hold him, to stay with him, just – “I love you. And I’m not going anywhere, you can’t push me away.”

“Tony.” He wrapped his arms around his neck, crying silently against his shoulder. There were so many words trapped in his mouth, but he couldn’t say them, he couldn’t.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not leaving,” He whispered against his curls, holding him so tight, so close, that Peter believed him.

If you let me

Here’s what I’ll do

I’ll take care of you.

[redwritinghood]

for a lamen writing prompt maybe something like enenmy secret agents or assassins

YES. ngl though kinda gets soft rather than action/adventure-y 

—

A shadow fell over Damen’s desk and he knew he was about to get bad news. Nikandros never loomed behind him to ask what bar they were going to after work.

“What’s up?” Damen turned in his chair and looked up at Nik’s dark expression.

“You’re being taken off field duty,” he said and folded his arms, guarding against Damen’s objections.

“Why?” Damen asked standing.

“Intel has discovered a hit was put out on you and an assassin has already accepted the job.”

“That doesn’t mean I should be taken off field duty,” Damen said.

“Yes,” Nik emphasized his words, “it does.”

“That’s what the person who put the hit out wants. I’m obviously on to something with my case. Besides, I have to go outside at some point, you can’t keep me locked away in the building.”

Nikandros stood firm in his decision, staring Damen down with no chance of relenting.

“Nik—” Damen began.

“Don’t even start.”

“Just let me—”

“No. Desk duty.” Nik ended the conversation by marching away.

The threat was bothersome but Damen determinedly went about his daily schedule. Only under scrutiny did he realize how predictable his routine was. Particularly the mornings. After the gym, he went to the same cafe and made an excellent target when he sat outside to eat his breakfast. There were even tall buildings across the street, an ideal place for a sniper to nest and take him out. This was where Damen would set his trap.

“Damn it, Damen, you aren’t even trying to be careful.” Nikandros’s shadow loomed over Damen’s desk and he turned in his chair to look up at the grumpy expression.

“You said desk duty and I’ve been here, at my desk, for over a week.”

“That doesn’t matter if you’re just going to walk around the city unprotected.” 

“Exactly,” Damen agreed, “I’m more likely to be shot outside of work, so you should probably just let me back on my case.”

For a moment, Nikandros was speechless. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll start having you escorted to and from work in an armored vehicle if that’s what it takes.”

“No thanks, I’ll handle this myself,” Damen said.

“Handle what yourself?” Nikandros asked. His face was darkening to an unhealthy color.

“My assassin,” Damen said. Nikandros opened his mouth then closed it, a vein prominent on his forehead. Damen had mercy, and said, “As in I think after Friday I’ll be working from home.”

Nikandros recovered enough to say, “Fine,” before he stormed off.

Damen had been certain to follow his same routine for a week, most importantly taking his breakfast outside the cafe. Everything else he let vary to be certain the assassin considered the cafe was the best place to strike. Now he just had to force the date and time. Only two days until Friday and Damen continued his morning routine, but was careful when he visited the cafe. One morning he’d been purposefully late so his breakfast went with him to the office, the next day he was fortunate the forecast had been reliable and ate inside to avoid the rain. 

His assassin had to know Friday would be their last chance. The night before, Damen prepared, packing his gym bag differently than normal. His body thrummed with nervous energy. He was excited.

At the cafe, Damen had to plan his moves carefully. His pulse was loud in his ears as he stepped outside claiming his usual table. After setting his breakfast down he re-entered the building hoping it appeared like he planned on returning to his meal and the sniper would wait. Instead, Damen went out the back, pulling his hood over his head he bolted across the street far enough from the cafe to go unnoticed. The schematics for the buildings had been obtained through work and he had used them to memorize the quickest path to the place a sniper would likely set up camp.

The gun came out of the shoulder holster when he was close to where he predicted the sniper would be. The top two floors were empty, closed off for construction until someone bought the office space. The area was plywood walls, with multiple trip hazards, and plastic flapping in the breeze. It was exactly where a movie or tv show would depict a waiting assassin. 

He turned the corner and aimed the handgun at nothing. The space was empty. Damen could barely hear over his heartbeat. His stomach had dropped with disappointment. Carefully he approached one of the open windows where the hot summer air blew in uninhibited. The cafe was easily visible, he could even see a pigeon attacking his breakfast sandwich. This was the best vantage point for a sniper. 

Unless. 

Unless the person he was looking for never did the expected. Damen thought quickly. Where would there be another vantage point? 

There was another spot. The adjacent building had its large industrial AC units on the roof. They would hide a person easily, but the line of sight would be a different angle. Even an experienced marksman would have some difficulty lining up the shot. 

It was loud. The flat rooftop vibrated. The large units and giant exhaust pipes created a maze. Gun still in hand, he approached the probable sniper spot. There wasn’t a clear view, he couldn’t tell if an assassin waited only a few feet away. 

A sharp beam of sunlight reflected into his eyes. He threw up a hand seeing a singular bright spot near the ledge. It was a small mirror. 

Damen’s heart was in his throat. The assassin had been able to see him coming. He turned in time. A figure dressed entirely in black rolled out from behind a vent pipe, rifle braced to the shoulder. Damen dove for cover barely fitting between the metal units. The assassin was swift and nimble, leaping onto the platform above Damen. He grabbed the attacker’s ankle and the body hit with a metallic hollow thump. On his back, he aimed the rifle at Damen’s face. Only a foot away, Damen was able to catch the barrel and redirect it away from his body. Black boots kicked off Damen’s chest, he slid backward off the unit and ripped the rifle from Damen’s grasp. 

There was a glimpse of the figure as the assassin disappeared into another row. Smaller than Damen, he hid easily. Whereas Damen had to crouch down to keep from being seen. The motors from the ACs masked most sounds and unable to rely on sound or vision, Damen had to trust his instincts. 

Just a flash of black was seen from his peripheral, but it gave him enough time to turn and block an assault. Too close to use the rifle like a gun, the assassin had swung it as a club. The blow had landed on Damen’s forearm. It stung but he reached out to catch the black figure. He would undoubtedly have the upper hand in wrestling or hand-to-hand combat. 

His arm was kicked aside, the movement grounded in a martial arts stance. Damen squared-off, a balanced position. The assassin’s face was hidden beneath a black hood so Damen wouldn’t be able to read the expressions and interpret the next move. It came with speed and agility, using the rifle like a bo staff. Damen had to block both the gun and another kick. He tried to snatch the rifle but still held his own gun and only had the one free hand. The assassin was skilled, more acrobatic, using the varying heights of the units to his advantage. It made Damen have to evade spinning kicks at head height. 

It was very impressive. The ninja-like skill of the assassin was a contrast to Damen’s sturdy defense. The only advantage was speed, there wasn’t enough power to do serious harm, and Damen was mostly concerned with the rifle. The enemy was smart, knowing to stay out of reach and use the gun like two separate weapons. It had to be blocked when used as a club and avoided when the barrel pointed at him. All of this was done while fending off the distracting barrage of attacks. 

Damen moved backward, careful of tripping hazards, and eventually stepped into a clearing where he thought he would have the advantage. Damen took the offensive, also experienced in martial arts. His opponent was skilled even without the help of the varying terrain. He moved deftly, skirting the edge of Damen’s reach. He caught the rifle and only had the one hand to hold on with. The assassin tried turning the gun to dislodge Damen’s grip, but he held on. Quickly, he pushed forward, walking the assassin back into a corner, and trapped him against the brick. Damen’s body held him there, unable to escape, the rifle a hard line between them. 

Damen ripped off the hood. Blond hair spilled out into piercing blue eyes. The pale face flushed from exertion. Their bodies pressed together, Damen could feel him trying to catch his breath.

A golden brow lifted, “You’re getting slow.”

“You put a hit out on me?” Damen asked.

“Now you look more important. How many agents can boast an assassination attempt?”

“Laurent,” Damen groaned.

“If I were actually here to kill you, you’d be dead. I know I’m the best but you should be more careful.”

“I was fairly certain it was you.”

“And what if it wasn’t? What were you going to do with that unloaded pistol?”

“You’re carrying around a paintball gun.” Damen released the rifle and so did Laurent. It fell and there were only clothes between them. “There’s a clip in my pocket,” Damen stated.

“That’s something I suppose. Now about your schedule—”

“I know,” Damen said, “I’ll work on that. What else am I doing wrong?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet,” Laurent said, blue eyes bright.

The handgun clattered to the ground. Damen pulled him close with a strong grip on the slim waist. Laurent’s lips parted and eyelashes dipped in anticipation of the kiss. Damen stroked a thumb along his jaw, briefly cementing the moment in his mind before he leaned in to take Laurent’s mouth. Laurent went to his toes, hands traveled up Damen’s arms to circle his neck and bring him closer. 

There was an urgency. A need. It had been too long. Damen couldn’t seem to hold Laurent close enough. He pressed him back into the wall and lifted him with hands beneath his thighs, bouncing him once for a steadier hold. Laurent assisted by wrapping legs around his waist. Damen reclaimed his mouth and Laurent made a soft sound, body arching into Damen’s.  

“I’ve missed you,” Damen breathed, his face turned into the slender neck. 

Laurent’s hands tangled in his hair, the grip almost painful with his fierce hold. “Fuck me,” he said.

“Here? On a rooftop?”

“Yes.”

“We can go to the apartment—”

“Now,” Laurent said, desperation roughening his voice.

“What about—”

Laurent moved his hips, just so, and the air escaped Damen. Leaning in with mouth against his ear he said, “I’ve already prepared.”

Damen nearly fell over. “Okay,” he choked.

—

As an internationally wanted assassin and government secret agent, they tried to not be seen together. Damen took a cab to the apartment. Laurent got there somehow. He was climbing through the window as Damen unlocked the door.

“Perhaps we should hire a maid.” Laurent swiped his fingers across the dusty desk. The apartment was only used when they were both in town, which wasn’t often, it could be a financial drain but was a more reliable hiding place than a hotel.

“Hey, get over here,” Damen said, throwing the blankets off the bed. Laurent complied, smiling as Damen pulled him down into the sheets. It was clumsy at first, with the same rushed need as the rooftop, but this time clothes were coming off. Laurent’s outfit was convoluted and frustrating like always.

“Do you think you’re Batman or something?” Damen grumbled after struggling with knee and elbow pads only to discover wrist sheaths complete with six-inch blades.

“I’d probably look good in a cape,” Laurent said, watching with amusement as Damen fought the buckles and straps. 

There was a pile of weapons when they were finished. Damen knew they would have to sort through them later. It would be very hard to explain how his government-issued firearms had ended up in the hands of an assassin.

—

“I missed you too.” Laurent languidly rolled onto his back, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“How long are you staying?” Damen asked, moving to kiss his bare shoulder.

“I have a plane tomorrow night.”

“That’s not long enough,” Damen groaned, dropping his head into Laurent’s neck.

“I know,” Laurent said, stroking Damen’s hair. “We have Paris in two months.”

“You’re not going to forget?”

“I didn’t forget about New York, I couldn’t make it and I’ve apologized a hundred times. Besides this is our anniversary.” Laurent lifted his hand into the sunlight filtering in through the window. He wore the gold woven band shaped to look like a laurel wreath. Damen's matching ring was worn on a chain around his neck. He wished he could wear it on his hand but no one knew he was married. 

“What’s the gift for five years?” Damen asked.

“Wood,” Laurent replied, still admiring his ring.

“I have that now,” Damen said, rolling over on top of him. 

Laurent snorted, unamused, “While I envy your stamina, you are lacking in wit.” He sat up pushing Damen off. “I need food.”

Once dinner was ordered and delivered, Laurent explained the new pink scar on his bicep and told of his recent adventure in Iceland. Damen suspected he downplayed the violence and danger.

“Where are you going after this?” Damen had settled in behind Laurent, hugging him to his chest face resting against the back of the blond head.

“Home. Briefly.”

“I haven’t been to France since—”

“Since you arrested me?”

“I was going to say since we met,” Damen said. “I didn’t technically arrest you.”

“No, you just cuffed me to a bed.”

“You were being a pain in the ass,” Damen laughed, absently running his knuckles along the naked pale thigh. 

Five years ago, Damen had been given the task of gathering evidence against a corrupt politician, only to constantly have Laurent in his way, even appearing as a waiter at a fundraising event. Threats of incarceration hadn’t frightened him away. At the time if Damen had known who Laurent really was he wouldn’t have simply used threats, but instead thought he was a lackey being used to distract Damen from his case. At the party, the mini-feud had escalated to Damen tying Laurent to a bed, which had escalated to something else. Laurent then shared a partial truth that the corrupt politician was his uncle and he was after him for personal vengeance. A tentative partnership had been formed and from there the chaos had only escalated, ending in a marriage.

For the agency, it was still an open case, and for Laurent, it was his main mission. He had even claimed he would retire afterward and made a joke about becoming a trophy wife. Damen wasn’t optimistic, Laurent liked his adventures and he secretly worried he couldn’t keep him entertained. 

They had fallen into a comfortable silence. While Damen petted Laurent, he removed the chain from Damen’s neck and slipped the ring onto his finger where it belonged. Laurent held his hand next to Damen’s comparing the bands while on the appropriate finger. Endeared by the quiet reverie, Damen held him a little closer.

Laurent turned in his arms, kneeling, face above Damen’s. The cool hands held his face, thumb caressing cheekbones. He looked into Damen’s face the same way he had admired the rings together. Gently he pressed a kiss to Damen’s forehead. The tenderness and adoration of it made Damen’s heart ache.

“I love you,” Laurent said it in his language before he kissed him.

Neither wanted to sleep when they’re time together was so brief, but it went by too quickly anyway and Laurent left the next evening.

—

Damen was sure he remembered there being a newspaper stand near the Eiffel Tower. When he found it, he bought the day's paper and flipped to the story he wanted. A few weeks ago it had been on the front page around the continent. Plane crash over the Meditteranean. Twenty-one dead, thirty-four survivors, six missing. Pictures of the six had made it into the media. After a time, three had been found alive, one dead, with two still missing. The images were still in circulation and Damen found them on page seven. He put a finger over the blond head printed in black and white. 

The face next to Laurent’s was also recognizable. It had been over five years now but Damen knew the flat-nose face of Govart, one of the uncle’s henchmen. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Two months ago, 4am, and wrapped in Damen’s arms Laurent had told him it was almost over, that he was close to finding his vengeance.

When the news first came out and Damen had seen the headline and photo of Laurent on the front page he had quit his job. Laurent was alive. Damen was certain and he would find him.

[direnightshade]

Broken Patterns

“Where are you working, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The steady tick, tick, tick of the wall mounted clock nearby fills the silence that follows the woman’s statement. I glance around nervously, taking in the sight of the room. The walls are white and the bottom half is trimmed with a molding that I’ve only ever seen in places that are far too expensive for me to afford. Meanwhile, the top half of the walls are covered in a multitude of photos and art, each one framed in mismatched metals. To my left there is a bookshelf that spans the entirety of one wall. It is filled to the brim with books of varying genres.

Oh, how I long for a place such as this some day.

My gaze swings back to the woman with the pinched face and the short, jet black pixie haircut. I swallow thickly and wipe my already clammy palms along the tops of my jean-clad thighs. “I just landed an internship with Simon & Schuster.”

A steady scribble of the tip of her pen can be heard as she scrawls across her piece of paper, humming in acknowledgement, though I am certain the sound is a mere afterthought; one to appease me as if she’s giving off the appearance that she’s listening. “And when did you move to New York?”

“Two years ago, right after I turned eighteen.”

More scribbling follows, and I shift anxiously on the velveteen couch that has been dyed a pretty shade of dark green. Almost immediately, I am pinned to the very spot I sit by the intense gaze of the woman who is meant to be my therapist. There are no words exchanged, but the look that she is giving me seems to say it all: stay still. I sink into myself and remain in place as she has so silently willed me to do.

This is only the beginning of the session, and already, it is unlike anything I would have expected.

“So, tell me,” she says, finally satisfied that she’s written all that she can for the time being, “what brings you into my office?” Her posture has straightened considerably now, and for the first time since I’d stepped foot past the threshold of the room’s door do I feel as if she’s actually listening to what I have to say.

I inhale a shaky breath in hopes that it will steel my resolve, and when I exhale, I begin to tell her everything.

I tell her about the screaming that became a staple in my childhood home; about how it had all been my fault, because of course it was. I had been unable to grasp the simplest things that were being taught to me. It certainly hadn’t been because the expectations that were set so heavily onto my shoulders were so unrealistic that no child at my age could have lived up to them. No. No, of course not. That wasn’t it at all. It was all me. My failings.

I tell her about how I’d taken out all of my pent up anger and aggression out on the dolls that my mother had so lovingly gifted to me; that I’d mutilated them so badly my mother took me to see a child psychologist claiming she thought me to be some future murdering psychopath. Isn’t that hilarious?!

It’s an absurd thought. Truly.

I couldn’t harm a fly…

I tell her about Ben.

He was, I think, the first person I ever thought I loved. I met him, of all the places, on Bow Bridge in Central Park one crisp Autumn morning. I’d been fresh off the train, barely in the city for a full twenty four hours when we’d crossed paths. He’s a painter—a lovely one at that, I’ve always told him as much—and when I’d stumbled across him, he was painting the landscape. I couldn’t help but admire his talents. I think I may have stopped and gawked for far too long and perhaps that is what caught his attention, though I am sure if he was here, he would sing a different tune. He loves to tell people that when he saw me it was if I had walked straight out of one of his paintings; a dream incarnate. The line makes me roll my eyes with disgust now, but back then in the early stages of the relationship, that line would always have me hook, line, and sinker.

But therein lies the problem, you see. I am a sucker for pretty words, for people who can paint me the loveliest picture of a life that I have always wanted but yet to have. And, oh, how he painted that lie well.

Over time the compliments and the affection have waned significantly, and now I fear that it is only I who is trying to give it my all any more. I believe that he is seeing someone else, that the pretty words he once showered down on me are now being put upon another heart, leaving mine to rot.

He checks his phone late at night when he thinks that I am asleep. I can hear the steady tap, tap, tap of his thumbs against the screen and every now and again, I can hear the soft laughter he emits whenever whomever she is responds with some undoubtedly witty remark. Where he once used to be so adamant that we put our phones aside and focus on one another, he now has done a complete one-eighty. We sit on opposite ends of the couch whilst he entertains himself with whatever conversation he is so engrossed in, meanwhile I am left to watch this movie—one that he chose—alone.

I am turning into my mother more and more every day, I realize. I am untrusting and paranoid, always asking him who it is that he’s taking calls from or who he’s texting. He tells me it’s nothing, that it’s just work, but he was never this busy with work before…

Two days ago is when he’d come clean.

My suspicions were not unfounded. He had been seeing someone. Her name is Mina and apparently she is lovely.

There is a brief bout of scribbling of a pen against paper, and when it stops, my therapist lifts her head once more to look at me. “How does that make you feel?”

Like I am a waste, I want to tell her. It makes me feel as if I am nothing; that if the one person on this planet who was meant to love me cannot seem to then perhaps I am, myself, unworthy of such a gift.

My features soften and I allow the corners of my mouth to turn up into a small smile. “I feel fine.”

The woman reaches up to pull her glasses down off of the bridge of her nose, setting the frames atop her notebook. She exhales a sigh and regards me carefully before doling out a reply. “This is a new development for you. Surely you must have some sort of feelings about it.”

“I told you that I’d had my suspicions. I’ve had more than two days to process the inevitable.”

“Having a suspicion and having confirmation are two completely different things. This idea in your mind has since been made real. Doesn’t that hurt you,” she counters.

The smile that had been so carefully put into place falters, and my lips press into a thin line.

It is clear that my therapist is pleased with this non verbal response as she once again resumes her note taking.

“No,” I reply carefully.

“No?”

“No.”

There is a stretch of silence that follows my insistence, and soon enough, she sets the notepad, pen, and her glasses aside and regards me carefully. “What are you doing to cope?”

I barely manage to bite back the snort that nearly bubbled up to the surface. Cope? Since when have I ever coped with anything? I suppose, if we are being technical, what I do is a form of coping, albeit an unhealthy one. I take those feelings, the ones that weigh on my chest so heavily that it feels as if it may very well collapse under the strain, and I compact them until they are so small I can easily store them in a cage that I have built myself. I tuck them away and store the box somewhere deep inside myself, never allowing them to see the light of day so that I never have to deal with the emotional traumas that I have been dealt.

“I work,” I say matter-of-factly, as if the idea of me needing to do anything else is utterly absurd.

She hums and clasps her hands together, setting them atop her lap. “And what have you done for an emotional release? Anything at all? Or are you throwing yourself into work to avoid the situation?”

My jaw clenches at her insistence, though, I don’t know why I would have expected anything else. Perhaps I wasn’t expecting this first session to have become so deep so quickly. “If you’re asking if I’ve cried, the answer is no.”

“And why not?”

I am growing more and more irritated by the second. I could, if I so wished, put an end to this right now. I could get up and end the session, thank her for her time and walk right out of the door. Or, the pen sitting beside her on the end table would push straight into her eye socket rather nicely, I reckon…

No. No, I rid myself of that thought and exhale an audible sigh.

“Because what is the point? Crying doesn’t fix the relationship. He’s made his choice.”

“Crying can be a good release for us. It’s very cathartic.”

“I’m not wasting my tears on someone who didn’t have the decency to leave the relationship before giving a part of themselves to someone else.”

The irony is not lost on me that eleven years later I find myself in another office in a different part of the city with tears freely spilling down onto my cheeks as I reach for the tissue that is offered to me. When one isn’t enough, I am gifted the entire box.

It feels as if I am crying out years and years of repressed emotion, and I fear—as my body wracks with sob after sob—that the tears will be never ending. This therapist, who I have already decided is miles above the one I’d seen when I was twenty, sits and waits patiently for me to let it all out. She has been nothing short of supportive and I feel relief.

Earlier this week I had requested that Charlie jot down the number for his therapist’s office so that I may make an appointment of my own. Though he, too, has been more than happy to listen to me when I vent my frustrations or cry on his shoulder when things become a little too overwhelming for me, I have come to realize that perhaps it is not fair of me to unload so much onto him when he is still dealing with so much himself. And what’s more, is that I have realized that I have begun to fall into an old pattern.

Rather than fully dealing with the emotional upset he has caused with his trysts, I have once again begun to tamp down and repress my negative emotions in favor of pretending that all's right with the world. Not only do I not want to shut myself down and risk ruining this relationship, I also do not believe my tactics to be in the best interest of Little b. So, if nothing else, I will do this for them.

When the tears finally subside, and I have once again managed to pull myself together, I take a moment to dab a clean tissue against the underside of my eyes. Just as I am inhaling another shaky breath, my therapist—who is not the same woman that Charlie shares his allotted time with—poses a question.

“Have you discussed your feelings with him?”

I sniffle and ball up the tissue in my hand as it comes to rest in my lap. “We had a long, long discussion after things calmed down. He knows that I was—am—unhappy with his choices.”

There is a soft sigh emitted when she shifts in her seat and crosses her legs. One hand rests on her knee whilst the other keeps her chin propped up as her elbow sets on the arm of the chair she’s currently seated in. “You told me that he’s admitted to opening up to someone emotionally when he felt he couldn’t do that with you and that this seems to be the root of your dispiritedness. I’d like to talk about that.”

I wouldn’t, I think to myself almost immediately.

But, this is why I am here, after all. I need to discuss the things that I wish to bury. Only then do I have any real chance of repairing the damaged, unhealthy parts of myself. If we, as a family, have any real shot at moving forward, then I must face this head on regardless of how much I want nothing more than to run the other way.

And yet…

I am struggling.

“Do you still worry that this may be an issue?”

My head hangs forward, and I close my eyes tightly to ward off the onslaught of tears that once again threaten to force their way out. There is a slight tremor that starts in my chin and works its way to my bottom lip. I hate this, this feeling of being rendered speechless, of being weak and vulnerable. I hate that, once again, I have given someone else the power to crush me so.

I nod wordlessly, the motion so slight that it would have been missed had she not been paying careful attention.

“Has he done anything to make you think that it is?”

Another stretch of silence follows her words, and this time, I find myself shaking my head. No, no he hasn’t.

And yet…

I am afraid.

And…

My therapist says my name to grab my attention, and when I finally lift my head to look at her, it is with tearfully blurred vision. “If he has not done anything to make you think that it is, then tell me about the steps he has taken to attempt to alleviate those fears.”

I inhale a shaky breath and begin to list off everything from deleting the long list of contacts in his phone to quitting his job at the theater. When the subject of the move to Los Angeles is brought up, I am asked that one question that haunted my thoughts mere days ago.

What do I want?

How do I feel?

“I…” My lips press together as I trail off, and I work my jaw as I take a moment to think. “I want to leave. I think the move will be good for both of us, and not just because this means that Charlie can see Henry more regularly now.” While I speak, I lift a hand to dab away the last remaining tears from my eyes, finally feeling more confident in this turn of conversation. “You know, when I first moved here, I loved this city so much that I resolved to stay here until I turned old and grey.”

There is a small smile that forms when I speak, and I huff out soft laughter. But as I shake my head, the smile begins to wane. “But now… After everything that’s transpired over the last month… This city that brought me so much joy just feels so oppressive now. Some of the places I used to love to venture to have been tainted by the awful confessions that he’s bestowed upon me. What I want is to leave. But most importantly, what I want is for this to work...”

By the time that my session concludes, I am feeling infinitely better than when I’d initially walked through the front door. For the first time in all the times that I have tried—or was forced to try—therapy, I am leaving a session with tools that I feel will be useful in aiding my own emotional recovery from everything that I have dealt with in life. For the first time in my life, I will attempt to cope with the emotions that I feel in a healthy way. I feel, for the first time in a long, long time, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

When I make my way out of the building, I am surprised to find Charlie waiting for me just outside. There is a fleeting look of concern that flashes across his face when he takes in my red-rimmed eyes, but just as quickly as the look emerges, it dissipates entirely when a broad smile stretches across my face. “You came all the way out here to get me,” I ask, the pleasant surprise evident in my voice.

“Wanted to make sure your first session went well,” he says just as he reaches out for me once I’m near enough.

A soft hum is emitted when his hands settle on my waist to draw me in closer, and I lift my arms to wrap them loosely around his neck. I tip my head back slightly to look up at him, taking a moment to soak in his features before I speak. “You were nervous.”

He huffs in automatic response, his gaze darting to the side momentarily. “Absolutely not.”

If it is possible for my smile to widen any further, then it certainly does so. “It’s okay,” I say, fingers raking through the hair at the nape of Charlie’s neck whilst he continues to hold me close, safe and out of the way from any passersby. “We’re okay. It went great. Probably the best session I’ve ever had. Now I know why you’ve chosen that office.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We smile at one another, and for the first time in over a month, I truly feel as if everything will be alright.