#literally exhausted all the way to this fucking pit in my chest and breathing feels like it's manual

[hamburgirlbulge]

A girl wants to go back to bed so badly

[sillysillygoofygoose]

"Speak Up" ♡

You dont get anything unless you tell Toji exactly what you want.

*daddy/little one usage, ddlg-ish, safeword used, implied subspace... don't like, don't read <333 MDNI, READER IS 18+

LMAAOO GUYS literally ignore everything I said in my last miguel post (though I stand by it 😩) because reader is the polar opposite in this one 💀 I'm such a clown y'all, I switch up sooo fast

"Please?" Your hoarse voice barley leaves your throat as your mouth hangs open in exhaustion.

"Aw, c'mon, little one... you can do much better than that, don't cha think?" His sly delivery makes the heat in your lower stomach spread like a forest fire.

Flushed features scrunching up at his teasing, you grow more and more frustrated at his antagonizing and sadistic games. Toji's thick, calloused fingers ghost over your embarrassingly soaked pussy, treating you as if you were a burning hot stove top. Every slip of his fingers down your slit has your back arching from his chest, legs threatening to unlatch from his built thighs. His legs keep yours spread as you sit on his clothed lap, feeling his twitching boner against your pudgy ass.

You never realized how quiet you get in bed... almost as if someone switches on your mute button the second your clothes hit the ground. Toji hates it. Of course, he thinks you're cute - the way you clasp your hand over your mouth every time a noise threatens to leak out - but he wants to hear you. He needs to hear you. Especially when you get all mushy and pathetic, just for him.

Your hushed whines are almost overpowered by the lewd wet sounds Toji pulls from your pussy as he sinks his middle and ring fingers in, knuckle deep. He's guided you to your edge four times already. And everytime he's pulled you back from stumbling over.

"Pleeaasee, I want it. Fuck, really want it daddy." Griping onto his bicep, you feel tears begin to build alongside your orgasm. Your bare toes curl in on themselves as tingling sensations blur in your feet and travel up your sensitive, desperate little body.

"What do ya want? Huh, baby? C'mon, tell Daddy, use your big girl words." Toji smiles when he sees the delicate muscles in your stomach clench as your body stutters.

"I want to. Please. 's so embarrassing. " More mumbles. He really thought he was getting somewhere. You feel the coil in your stomach unsatisfyingly unravel, fall apart more like, as Toji removes his fingers from your body without warning.

"No! Why-why did you stop? I was so close." The tears splashing at your waterline race down your overheated cheeks as you completely remove your body from your cruel boyfriend's touch.

"You gotta speak up, baby, or I won't know what you want." His sadistic smile only makes you cry harder as he gathers you up in his arms once again, spreading your weak, trembling legs. Turning you to face him, he positions your crying cunnie over his brawny leg, clit immediately rubbing against his sweatpants. The pain overrides the pleasure as he rocks you back and forth against him, forcing stimulation on your puffed parts.

"No more, n'more. 'M all done." You beg, pushing his broad shoulders as you shiver and shake, tears gathering at the tip of your nose while you look down in shame.

"You can take one more, hm baby? All you have to do is ask nicely, and I'll give you anything you want, sweets." His pushes you down harder, forcing a sob out of your lips, splotched face buried in his neck.

"Nnmmh. No. No, thank you. Red." Your last word is hardly a whisper, but Toji hears you loud and clear.

"Oh, hey, hey, shit baby, I'm sorry." Toji hands fly from your hips as he lets you crawl from his thigh, disoriented and shy. Your cries increase into the palm of your shaky hands as embarrassment crashes over your overexerted body.

"Fuck, 'm so sorry little one. Didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry." The pit in his stomach only grew deeper and more dreadful as you refused to look at him, balled up into your own frenzy. You heave out tired breaths as you grab onto his hand, moving to rest on his shoulder, signaling that he can touch you.

"Was too much. Just need to cum, daddy. 'M so overwhelmed." You wipe your tears away as you tiredly peck Toji's cheek, melting the worry off his face.

"Daddy will make you feel good, sweets. I'm so sorry, baby." Toji slowly moves his hand from yours to cup your soaked pussy, but feeling you tense, he decides to help his pretty girl more delicately.

"Here, sweet girl, lay down f'me." Toji grunts as he maneuvers satin draped pillows under your hips. "Daddy's gonna take such good care of you, okay?"

Immediately, you feel his tongue flat against your core and you moan out, dejected pussy embracing the strong hits of pleasure.

You buck your hips into Toji's welcoming mouth as he nuzzles his lower face into you. Exhausted but invigorated, your hips find their own rhythm against Toji's mouth and nose. You don't hold back, whines, moans, and whimpers alike rushing from your mouth like a waterfall of praise.

"Mhm mhm, cum f'me pretty baby. You deserve it, such a good girl" Toji doesn't even break from you as he encourages you through your sudden but long anticipated orgasm, mumbling and groaning into your pussy. Your legs force him further down against you as your back hovers off the bed, panting filling the room as you ride your release.

Closing your eyes, your legs drop to either side of Toji's head. Your plump lips are spread, taking in as much air as your lungs will allow as dried tear tracks fade against your pink cheeks. Baby hairs stick to your sticky, sweaty forehead. He chuckles, looking up at your spaced state.

"You alright, doll?" He huffs out, rubbing up and down your outer thigh. You don't respond, simply letting your hand flop on top of his as you nestle yourself into the inviting mattress under you.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

Credit to @pommecita for the divider <3333

[melancholymetropolis]

Exchange pt. III

plot: In which Gojo and Y/N wake up together and have morning sex

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Porn with Feelings

warnings: unedited (mostly). PORN PORN PORN!!!!!!!!!! (This is kinda stand-alone piece) safe sex. oral sex (f receiving). light choking. multiple positions. fingering. squirting. PIV SEX. pet names (sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.) multiple orgasms. LAUGHING DURING SEX. lowkey rom com vibes. play wrestling.

song association: Fetish by Selena Gomez

a/n: don't fight me! I come with smut (3k words worth)

w.c: 4.6k

part(s): Part I Part II

A head of unruly, white hair rested comfortably on my chest. Gentle breaths eased out of the owner's nostrils as he slept peacefully. Parted, pink lips were left slightly ajar and pushed out a deep breath every so often. A pool of drool fell from the mouth as well. It created a medium size spot on my tee shirt. His strong arms were wrapped around my midsection and one of his legs was resting between mine. Saturo held onto me like I was his lifeline. The very oxygen gracing his lungs. Even in his sleep, the man couldn't fake his affection for me. 

My hand found his hair moments later. My fingertips caressed the thick, full locks tenderly. He was truly something of a fairy tale. His face was almost angelic in the low light. It kissed his pale skin like a lover and embraced him with a fondness I knew all too well. Wispy, white lashes graced his drowsy eyes. My hand lowered from his hair and to his cheek. My fingers brushed against the smooth, clear skin of the area. 

“Keep touching me like that,” Saturo grunted, nuzzling my chest. “And I'll get the wrong idea.”

A soft smile fell onto my lips. “And what idea is that?”

“That you're falling in love with me.” Amusement dripped from his voice like a faucet.

I playfully swatted the top of his head. “Oh shut up!”

He lifted his head from my chest in one swift motion. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light and that sleepy smile stabbed me in the heart. 

Holy fuck is he gorgeous, I found myself thinking.

“Admit it, sweetheart,” he teased. “You’re falling in love with me. I mean why else would you invite me to your bed.” 

“Maybe because it was 3 AM when we finished eating?” I suggested, a smile falling to my lips. “And you shouldn’t be driving while exhausted?”

He paused, pretended to think for a minute, before shooting me the cockiest fucking look I had ever seen in my life. “It could be that,” he started. “Or, you were just so worried about your husband’s well being that you wanted him to sleep safely in your arms for the night.”

“Boy, bye!” I chuckled, pushing against his shoulders. “Now you’re dragging it.”

Saturo lifts his body from mine and I instantly felt a cooling sensation dance between the space. 

“Come on, wifey,” he grinned. “You don’t have to hide feelings from your husband.”

I shoved at his shoulders again. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna kick you off the bed.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he provoked.

A knowing smirk fell on my lips. “Challenge accepted.”

Before Saturo could throw a snide comment my way, both of my legs hooked around his waist. At the same time, my arms latched underneath his pits. I swung our bodies to the left, effectively switching our positions.  I straddled his waist, allowing my lower half to pin his legs to the bed. I placed both hands on his T-shirt covered chest and pinned his upper half down as well. His blue eyes widened with utter astonishment, fear and a little something else I couldn’t exactly catch. 

“Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he gasped, eyes trailing over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I was not expecting that. Like at all…. Shit. I think you took my breath away. Literally.”

Laughter erupted from my chest and poured from my lips. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”

His hands rested on my thighs, a look of amazement still on his face. “Seriously, sweetheart, is there something you're not telling me.”

“Like what?” I giggled. 

“I don't know. . . Like maybe you have a secret second life that requires you to be as strong a fucking body builder.”

“Seriously, ‘Toru, you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm not being— wait. What did you just say?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That you're being ridiculous?”

“Before that,” a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Seriously?”

“After that.”

“I didn't say anything—”

“Don't deny it, sweetness,” the smile was so wide that it practically covered half of his face. “You called me by my first name.”

“I did no such thing!” I crossed my arms over my chest and playfully avoided his gaze.

“Not only that,” he replied, lifting his back from the bed. “You gave me a nickname.”

“No I did not—ah!”

Saturo flipped our bodies back to their original position, with him on top. His massive hand took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knees rested on either side of my thighs, caging my body underneath his. Saturo used his other hand to cradle my face and direct my gaze directly into his eyes. They were electric blue, once again. They shined brightly before me in a way I had only seen twice before. Once at the wedding and the other last night in the restaurant. They searched my face for something I couldn't necessarily pick up. Some truth hidden beneath the surface that I was too scared to reveal. The longer he stared, the deeper the ringing in my ear sounded. 

“Say it again,” his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Say what?” I smirked, pulling at my wrists. 

“Playing coy is gonna get you in trouble, sweetheart,” he replied, returning my smirk. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

“And what exactly are you gonna do, Ole husband of mine?” I replied, a lustful glint in my eye. “Spank me?”

His jaw clenched and the grip on my wrists tightened. “Please don't threaten me with a good time, sweetness.” He shivered, visibly. “I'll have you on my lap before that cute little nickname leaves your lips a second time.”

“Is that a promise?” I said, allowing my eyes to drop half lidded. 

Saturo sucked in a breath and he clenched his jaw. “I am trying my best to behave. To be the gentleman you deserve. But all I can think about is burying myself in that sweet pussy and fucking you until the next sun rise. So, please, darling, don't tease me. My meager heart cannot take it.”

The desire burned in his eyes like sunshine through a magnifying glass. Point it at just the right angle and the object underneath would catch fire. The object or, more specifically, the person underneath said magnifying glass happened to be me. His gaze was beginning to set my body ablaze. Flashes of our last entanglement flickered through my mind like an old film. The heaviness of his body against mine as he pumped into me like a piston. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and how he groaned my name. I remember the way my nails scraped against the wooden headboard behind us. Remembering the rhythmic banging had sent me shivers down my spine. The look on his face made my womanhood tingle. He was remembering that night too. The evening my shins shook violently on his shoulders and he came so hard his entire body convulsed. 

It was also the last night we spent together before the wedding.

The same night I left him.

A subtle pain started to throb in my chest from the memory. The guilt slowly threatened to consume me. I  reassured myself that I knew better, currently. I knew that the white haired above me was more than just a vacation fling. More than just a cheap thrill to distract me from the tipsy bride-to-be and the plastered bridesmaids. He was a good guy, underneath that silly demeanor. He was thorough. Saturo weighed every option presented to him before coming to a conclusion. He was consistent. When he finally chose said option, he would try his hardest to see it through. He was passionate. There wasn’t a challenge he couldn’t overcome. A person he couldn’t charm. Myself included. 

“Left nightstand,” I found myself saying, a subtle smile on my lips. “Top drawer.”

“What’s in there?” A confused look colored his face.

“Condoms.”

The confused look morphed into three different expressions as the realization of what I said hit him. The first being shock. His eyebrows rose and his grip on my wrists loosened. The words rising over in his brain several more times before it morphed into a look of adoration. Saturo’s eyes eased halfway closed and a small smile formed on his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the grip he had on my wrists was forgotten. A gentle hand cupped my cheek before the final expression took over his face: unadulterated joy. He leaned his body down and pressed his forehead to mine. I could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Singing a song I was quickly learning the lyrics to. His hot breath fanned my face and his eyes looked deeply into mine; as if he could see my soul. See how it was opening up for him and how it searched for him after all this time. 

“Can I kiss you?” The question was breathless on his lips. Almost like the moment we were having wasn’t real. Almost as if I weren’t real. 

“Please.”

The softness of his lips melted the ice covering my defenses. My arms wrapped around his neck and I started to pull Saturo closer. The weight of his body broke down the walls I eradicated to keep him out of my heart. His touch pulled away the feelings of confusion and uncertainty. He moaned against my lips; his arms so tightly around my body I could barely breathe. I could barely form a thought, other than the one that we seemed to share. 

I want you.

When the need of oxygen became prevalent for the both of us, I pulled away. My eyes were blurry with lust and I could hear myself panting like horny teenager after such an embrace. Saturo’s hot mouth continued to lay kisses along my neck and shoulder. His hips dropped from the levitating position and situated themselves between my open legs. Saturo arched his back, almost like a feline, and started to grind his pelvic area against mine. The clothes and blanket between us did nothing to hide the intensity of his erection. The teasing thrusts of his hips were sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation of what was to come driving me up the wall. 

A warm hand wiggled between our two bodies and slid underneath my shirt. The wide palm pressed against the soft tissue of my left breasts before giving it a squeeze. At the same time, the bastard ran a hot tongue against the side of my neck. I moaned as a result. His fingers found the nipple instantly. Saturo ruled the bud between his fingers, while leaving little nips at my shoulder. 

“Care to help me out, sweetness?” He asked softly.

His voice was deep with sleep, but had been coated with lust. 

Saturo’s half opened blue eyes looked down at me as if I were hiding something.

The ghost of a smile on his perfect pink lips had me melting in the middle.

“Yes. . . ?” Was all I could mutter after staring at him for a noticeable amount of time.

“Take your shirt off for me, baby,” he replied, the humorous look on his face growing into a full-blown grin.

As I lifted the shirt over my head, a thought appeared in my mind. Saturo was not the kind of person to pressure me into doing things I didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning, he was a little shit about hanging out and getting to know me— though he never forced me to do it. Nor did he guilt trip into going out with him. Saturo gave me an option. He made it known that it was always my choice to have whatever relationship I wanted with him. 

My hands gripped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled the garment from my body. The cool air in the bedroom caused me to shiver slightly. The man above me froze the moment he caught sight of my bare breasts. His eyes rolled over them like water on a leaf as his tongue ran against his bottom lip. Saturo brought his face to my chest while panting. His mouth was already ready ajar while he gripped the first mound and brought the dark brown bud to his lips. We both moaned at the action. His eyes fluttered closed as he suckled the needy nipple. After a few moments, he released it with a pop and started to swirl his tongue against it. I squirmed beneath him. I wanted nothing more.

His warm hand slid down my bare belly as he switched to the other nipple. The slender fingers shimmied under the waistband and found my sticky womanhood. Two digits ran along my slit before dipping into the folds and circling my bud. A pleasurable sigh left my body from the sensation. My hips rolled against his hand. The friction was utterly delicious on the neglected area. I felt my body vibrate beneath his; the desire to be consumed by him becoming too great to ignore. 

A little while later, Saturo lifted his head from my breast and started to kiss down my navel. His eyes flickering up to meet mine every so often. I nervously nipped my bottom lip as I watched his face grow closer to my cunt. His hands pulled at the legs of the sleep shorts; I raised my hips to assist in the action. The cool air on my warm cunt made me shiver. An unholy groan left Saturo’s lips as his eyes stared at the curly mound.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes snapping back to mine.

“I hardly ever sleep with them on,” I admitted with a shrug.

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.  

Saturo, then, spread my legs nice and wide to get a better view. I saw his breath hitch at the sight. His thumb ran against the slick slit and I moaned from the feather-like strokes. He pushed my hips apart further and brought my body closer to the edge of the bed. With knees planted on the floor and both hands planted on the backs of my thighs, Saturo dove right in.

Long, slow licks graced my neglected folds and I shuddered beneath him. The tip of his plush tongue ran from my drenched center to the throbbing pearl. He circled said pearl with agonizingly slow movements that made me squirm. 

“Stop teasing,” I purred, gently combing through his messy hair. “I thought you wanted to bury yourself in my sweet pussy, or whatever you said earlier.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and Sauro’s eyes caught mine. “Aren’t we impatient, sweetness?” He nipped at the side of my thigh, earning a smile from me. 

“Well, it has been a while since you performed your husbandly duties. . .” I trailed off with a knowing smile.

“Oh?” Saturo raised an eyebrow. “So I am your husband now?”

“I mean, you could go back to being my cheap whore,” I teased, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a few bills before I send you away.”

“I knew you did that shit on purpose!” Saturo barked with laughter.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I am not denying the allegation.”

Saturo swatted my leg playfully before throwing me a stern look. “Just for that, I should leave you like this. Hot and bothered.”

“You could,” I nodded. “But, you won’t.”

Saturo narrowed his eyes. “. . . I won’t.”

“Good boy.”

His mouth was on my heat once more, sucking the throbbing pearl into his scorching mouth. The teasing was over and the real game began. As Saturo sucked, the tip of his tongue brushed against the underside of my clit every so often. I squirmed beneath him as the pleasure rose in my belly. He must’ve remembered our last time together. The way I creamed all over his face when did that exact movement with his tongue on my womanhood. A flash of something familiar crossed his eyes and watched an arm wrap around my right thigh, as two fingers brushed my entrance. As if to ask for permission. 

“If you add those digits, darling, I’m gonna make a mess of that pretty face.” I sighed, attempting to sound unenthusiastic about the action. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

The taller gentleman groaned against my cunt, but never removed his mouth from it. He pushed both fingers into my awaiting hole and I sucked in a breath. The digits curled in my sex and found the familiar spongy center at the roof of it. My thighs shook in his arms. Saturo massaged the area with a firm hand. He kneaded my g-spot into submission and I felt body start to vibrate underneath him. 

“Oooh. . .” I cooed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Just like that. . . Don’t stop. . .”

Saturo groaned again, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at me.

He was truly enjoying himself, more than he assumed possible.

His desire, like mine, tainted the air with its sweet music. I could hear them clearly, despite the amulet hanging from my neck. The energy he oozed was far more powerful than anything I had previously encountered. It bellowed out to me in such a way that it was hard to ignore it. The ringing in my ear was subtle, almost like a whisper from a lover. A warm pool in my stomach started to grow. One by one, my limbs grew unfeeling. I could feel absolutely nothing by Saturo’s mouth on my pussy. My eyes started to roll back as my back arched from the bed. My nails dug into the bed sheets as my mouth hung open. The climax was deep and guttural. It pulled a sound from my being that I did not recognize. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the pressure in my chest grew too great. I had to force a giant wave of cool air to flood my lungs as I cried out Saturo’s name. I felt my legs shake against his face, as he continued to suck my clit. 

“Too much!” I gasped, nudging his head away from my sensitive womanhood. “Stop! Please. . .”

Saturo removed his lips from the aching bud and pressed wet kisses on my soft stomach. He crawled up my body and took me in his arms. He held me tightly as the aftershocks of the orgasm started to wear off. With my back pressed against his chest, I felt myself relax almost instantly. His presence was certain as the sunrise and it warmed me immensely. We laid in silence for several moments, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

The taller gentleman pulled away for a breath moment. Moments later, I heard the familiar slide of the nightstand’s drawer open. Followed by that was a gentle crinkle of plastic and then a soft hiss fell from his lips. Saturo’s arms were around me before my body grew cold. He pressed hot kisses on my naked shoulder, before pressing his hard length on my bare ass.

“Are you still up for this, sweetness?” 

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

The throbbing member sank into my center from behind and I swore I saw stars. His strong arm hooked across my middle to steady himself. His hips rolled against my plush rear and soft moans spilled from his lips afterward. The weight of his body on mine and the feeling of his breath against my ear was indescribable. The thoughts spinning in mind were in one category: adoration. Maybe it was the dopamine and adrenaline creating a toxic cocktail on my emotions, but all I could think about was my future with Saturo. The way our mornings could be just like this one. Filled with sensual love-making and intimacy that made my head spin. The way he cradled by body as he thrusted into me was exhilarating. He held me like I was going to disappear at any moment. 

After a short while, he hiked my left leg into the arm and hooked his arm around my thigh. Saturo tilted his hips backward and started to thrust into me a little bit harder. My shoulders fell into the crook of his arm as my  back pressed against the soft mattress. His cock moved deeper into my cunt and pressed a pleasure point I had forgotten I had. My eyes rolled back and the air in my throat grew thick. My nails dug into his forearms as I felt my toes curl.

“There it is,” Saturo snickered. “That’s the face I am looking for.”

“ ‘Turo. . .” I moaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder. 

He shuddered from the sound of the nickname and moved his hips faster against my ass. 

My eyes rolled back as I felt the pressure in my belly grow once more. My nerves were buzzing and started to feel my body begin to heat all over. The sensations coursing through me were simply incredible and I didn’t want them to end. I never wanted to be separated from the feeling Saturo, my husband, was giving me. 

Gradually, the thought of being married to him did not repulse me. It ignited a sort of excitement within me that I kept hidden from the public eye. To have such a biblically beautiful man on one’s as we simply lived life would greatly boost anyone’s ego. For that same man to be downright obsessed with everything about me was something entirely different. The passion he had for me was simply extraordinary. The sweet words that fell from his lips as he fucked me tenderly had made my heart sing. The heat from his body and the power that surrounded him was simply ethereal. All reasonable doubt slipped from my mind the longer the thrusted into me. All I could think about was Gojo Saturo and coming home to his girthy cock every night.

One by one, I felt my limbs go numb and my body stiffen. Keep, harsh breaths poured from my lips as my eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of his cock slipping against my walls had broken through the numbness. I could feel said walls begin to contract, squeezing his member tightly as I climaxed. A gush of cool air filled my lungs as my body melted into his. 

“Don’t stop!” I screamed, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t stop. . . oh God. . .”

The second wave of the orgasm made my entire body shake against his. My hips bucked against his thick member and my thigh shook in grasp. The older gentleman tried everything to keep the slippery limb from his grasp, but to no avail. 

Frustrated, Saturo rolled my stomach and wrapped a hand across my chest. He pressed his entire body against my back, before putting a hand on my throat. Upon pressing his hips against my ass, I realized that his cock was even deeper than it was before. Saturo started to rock his hips against my soft ass and I had never felt something so marvelous in my entire life. The pressure in which he used to fuck me was unholy. The head of his brilliant cock was hitting a pleasure point so deep in my pussy that I was sure that the other lover knew it existed. The weight of his body pushed my pelvis nearly flat against the mattress and added pressure to my stomach. Just between my thighs I felt something rather fluffy nestled right against my apex. The cushioned item slid against my throbbing clit with each thrust and I felt my entire body shiver.

I had no idea when Saturo shoved a pillow between my thighs, but I knew the move was far from a mistake.

“You are so… fucking… perfect,” He stammered, pounding into slick pussy like his life depended on it. “The best. . . person. . . for me.”

Saturo’s grip on the bedsheets tightened and I felt his hips begin to twitch against mine.

He was getting close.

“Tell me,” I said, breathless. “Tell me that you're mine.”

Soft curses fell from his lips as the fingers on my neck tightened. Jagged breaths fell from his lips as his hips moved faster against my lower half. The heaviness of the member pushed against the roof of cunt. Added with the weight of his body against mine meant that Saturo was annihilating two of my pleasure points at once. The addition of the pillow meant that he was three. I couldn’t even feel the last orgasm building as I felt with the prior two. The lovely man was simply taking me onto an ongoing wave of pleasure, equipped with peaks and valleys. 

The grinding of his body against mine was mind-numbing. I could feel little dribbles of drool spill from the side of my mouth as he fucked me. Incoherent words spilled from my lips like a drunk prayer, along with a few slurred sprinkles of his name. I never wanted that moment to end, I never wanted him to stop pounding me into the mattress as the late morning sun illuminated our sweat soaked bodies. I wanted the moment to last forever. I wanted to stay with him forever; for in that moment he was truly mine. 

My friend.

My lover. 

My. . . husband.

The orgasm poured over me like a soothing wave. It was just as deep as the other two, but didn’t have such violent muscle tension. My eyes squeezed shut as I rode on the high. It made my entire body warm and my heart tingle. It made me thankful for the impulsive decision to invite him into my apartment and into my bed. I almost scolded myself for not doing it sooner. The heavy member still pressed against the inflated, spongy area in my cunt. Every thrust had sent electricity throughout my body. The little control that Saturo was holding onto slipped through his fingers. The power behind his thrusts grew elevated and resulted in him practically dropping his cock in my awaiting hole. The movement further stimulated my sensitive clit, since his heaviness caused my womanhood to have even more contact with the pillow. My pearl ground against the plush surface hard as Saturo fucked me deeper than before. 

“I’m gonna cum again!” I screamed, pulling at the sheets. “I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s it, baby,” Saturo grunted. “Scream for your husband.”

His fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my neck as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. The word ‘yes’ spilled from my lips as if it were the only word in the dictionary. I could feel my legs shake violently beneath him and my mouth open wider than it ever had. A warm pool of liquid started to spill from my sticky cunt shortly after, resulting in a small puddle forming between my thighs. The scream that left my throat was so intense that it was silent. I could feel the massive man above me begin to shudder uncontrollably as his heavy member twitched within my snatch. His body fell onto mine in a sweaty heap and Saturo took a moment to catch his breath.

His hand slipped from my throat and he laced the digits with my shaky one. He pressed soft kisses onto my shoulders as I caught my breath. 

“I am yours,” he replied, finally acknowledging my request. The one I nearly forgot. “As you are mine. Forever”.

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

a/n: before you come for me (pun intended), just know that the next installment may not be the happiest.

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TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse @maliamaiden @@satoruontopofme

[undeademoprincess]

I need to get this off my chest somehow because i just

I feel so fucking conflicted and tired. The constant teeter tottering if not riding both extremes of feeling like a burden, no one wants or seeks out my company the way i do theirs, the "why even bother" mentality always in steadily creeping up on me, feeling constant over stimulation as well as under stimulation (sometimes both at once and theres times its only one effecting me but i get no break from it all) vs knowing and seeing im loved, wanted and appreciated, that im not some forced to be stuck with tag along burden people in my life put up with, and just being able to breath without doubting thoughts and actions of others towards me and feeling the calm that life is supposed to be. Just, all of the cruel thoughts, turning my own mind against itself and those i care for is exhausting and painful, especially when i unfortunately see things that back up the "mental demons", where i sadly agree with it because its persuasive and skilled enough to warp the truth i know for fact, im just too disheartened and tried to aruge back and thus sadly agree and it breaks me. For how it feels, when all this kicks in, it really does feel like some demon or dark intruder gets off on pitting me against things. I can watch someone so small and insignificant happen and when im not on the ball to counter it, it uses that as evidence that "see? You ARE bothering others". The slightest reaction or lack thereof always gets warped and twisted. The tiring part is i KNOW its pitting me against things, myself, and others. I KNOW this "voice" or intrusive thought(s) are just that, intrusive and theyre lying and warping reality to suit its perspective. To constantly rebuttle, reanalyze memories, literally ask what someone meant by what they said something, its beyond draining. Id say its all day, that theres obvious signs to who or what and HOW itd go after everything, but there just isnt. Theres no consistency other than being relentlessly brutal on making me feel alienated despite that very well not being the case. And again, i both know and see that. But i dont always have the heart or energy to fight back, rebuttle every dark thought, PROVE it wrong.

Thats when its actually relentless. Whispers and snarky, slide off the shoulder quick "comments" become whole trains of thought for minutes if not hours. Like a song you cant get out of your head in a way. Every year, as it gets closer and closer to holidays i dont like due to so many loved ones ive lost this time of year, i get seasonal depression and thus the mental beat down just gets worse. I know thats a root cause, with a handful of other things tho far more minor and insignificant from years back. I dont know how to stop all this, or to stop adding fuel to the fire the intrusive thoughts, dark voices, or mental demons (whichever suits your fancy) feed so desperately off of. My go to has always been to back off and isolate myself. Over time i noticed interactions with people are what it really pits against me, so if i back away from people for a while, it loses its fuel source and dies out. I then get my break from the mental warfare, i get hopefully some sort of quality time to myself during this, recover my foot hold over myself, and can eventually turn back to my friends and family comfortably without having to argue with myself their intentions and my self worth.

I dont want pity, i just need to rant and that feeling like im unloved, unwelcomed, a burden, and etc etc is at a ever creeping high at the moment for me right now. Ive always believed in letting out and talking to others about thoughts and emotions, helps yoy process things and open up. Rn i dont feel emotionally or mentally stable enough without absolutely breaking down and crumbling on those who i KNOW are there for me, always have and always will be. They dont need me losing my marbles on them, and i dont like people seeing or hearing me this low. I dont want anyone who unfortunately reads this to worry about me, especially doing anything drastic. Im a tough cookie and ive been through hell, this aint anything but its definitely a dark bumpy road that i WILL navigate. I just, i needed to rant and sort out my thoughts some, and between talking and typing it all out, those work best for me.

So for anyone that does unfortunately read this, sorry for possibly worrying you. I both am and am not fine, and the aspects of me that arent are things i plan on puttinf aside for now and recovering with for a bit. And until i learn anything else that works for me on battling and stopping this mental warfare i always get each year, im taking my people break, for my own selfish reasons. Im purposely going to make it harder to reach me for a while so that way my mind gets the social rest it needs to stop manipulating shit as i experience it. I cant stress how much i WILL be fine. I have my cats luna and bubba, my gecko tubby, my dogs pierre and louie. I have them for warmth, cuddles, kisses and company while im recouping. It might take me a bit to crawl back out of my hole, but i hope if anything i can come back to open arms friend wise when im feeling and doing far better than i am now. That itll be seen and treated like i was on vacation. These arent thoughts and emotions i like showing or displaying, another reason i isolate myself until im better.

If, for whatever reason you feel you need to or have to reach me, those who know how to reach me and can will. Im basically going to shrink access down to me to texts, cause everything else adds to the flip flop warfare of being over stimulating and under stimulating all at once. With everything else goin on in my mind and life rn, i really need whatever energy i have and can spare to get through all this in one piece, finish this semester, and get through this hellish time of the year without seasonal depression also fatiguing me.

I just... im in desperate need of me time if you will. And ill be back to my old usual self in hopefully a few weeks, maybe as long as until after Christmas. I just, i dont wanna don a mask in front of others, struggle to hold it up, break down, and feel worse. I dont like putting up fronts for others

Ill be fine, really. I think the only other thought i wanna express is that even when my mind tells and tries its hardest to convice me otherwise, i know im loved, wanted, and appreciated by people. I just cant confidently tell you why or what about me is worthwhile to others (i struggle with this even on normal days when everything is hunky dory), but i know this simple fact, and even if im struggling to hold onto it, trust me when i say that the usual me that gets so tired and worn out during times like this definitely knows and remembers, and its facts like this that i can, even in rocky times like this, guarantee ill be just fine, because its these tucked away facts that eventually help me get my foot hold again.

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐇.𝐋 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: You worried too much. That was what he always told you when you brought up a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sometimes you were right though, and that’s proven when the two of you run into him during your drifting session.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m literally in love with this gif. In-fucken-love. Also, sorry this request took me yonks, I’m back on my bullshit where I literally forget that writing is a thing that I do and love? So yeah, it ain’t much but it’s honest work.

Cars had never been something of interest to you.

Obviously when you saw a decent car you could stop to appreciate it, but other than that you never noticed the hype about them. Your family hadn’t brought you up with cars, none of your friends had ever been into them, and the one girl you hated throughout high school who thought she was ‘not like the other girls’ had never shut up about them.

So yeah, they never caught your interest.

It wasn’t until you had a gap year in Japan, traveling the world and meeting new people, that you finally started to notice them, admire them, and grow a passion for them after the first proper job you could find in Tokyo was working in some bar by a garage.

Listening to them, looking at them, seeing the adoration in their owners faces every time they looked at their cars, whether it was a Supra or a Civic.

That was how you met him.

Han was mysterious at first and never really opened up to you, but the more drunk nights he spent sitting in front of you while you slid him bottles of corona across the rustic bar top the more he opened up to you.

The two of you bonded and grew closer, gradually transitioning from just talking at the bar to actually going out together and spending time with one another, not that the two of you would ever admit they were dates.

You learnt all about his past, his family, despite him telling you how afraid he was you would leave him for it. But you proved him wrong, and now some two years later the two of you were still together.

“You comin’?” He called out as he carefully shut the door of the s15. ‘Mona Lisa’ as Twinkie liked to call it.

“I dunno, I just...” You trailed off as you got in beside him, also careful to shut the door knowing you would never hear the end of it if you slammed it. “I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

Han’s eyes widened and he turned in his seat to face you.

“Baby we do this like every week.” He reassured you, his voice soft. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah I know but like, it’s just this feeling in my stomach.” You tried to explain.

“Y/n, you’ve had a stressful month with work and everything. You’ve been worrying about everything, and this is a time for you to just let go and relax.” He placed his hand on your knee. “We’re gonna be fine. Promise.”

You swallowed and nodded, pushing down your anxiety.

Han was right, it had been a crazy stressful month for you with your job, you had been busting your ass off for a promotion, and when you finally got it you realized just how many new responsibilities you had.

Sitting passenger with Han while the two of you went drifting up some mountain or along some abandoned road somewhere was one of your favorite things to do, and of course it would relax you rather than worry you even more.

“You’re right.” You smiled, placing your hand over his. “Let’s go.”

As much as you had convinced yourself that the two of you would be fine, throughout the drive you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety creep back into the pits of your stomach.

A grin made it’s way onto your face as the two of you find a familiar road a good half hour or so from the city.

You close your eyes as Han drives, drifting perfectly, loving the feeling and just leaving your worries behind. You were also exhausted, and it was only just now hitting you as your coffee was wearing off.

You had almost thought you were about to fall asleep when Han slammed the breaks, jolting you awake.

“What the-” You began to ask but he cut you off.

“Stay in the car.”

You watched, mouth agape as he left you alone in the Silvia, walking in front of the car to a parked 350Z on the other side of the road, and your eyes widened at the familiar face who was also getting out of the car.

DK.

You watched, your heart beating faster and faster until it was almost going through your chest as the two men argued, occasionally giving the other a shove to the chest.

You watched as Han said something to DK, clearly pissing him off and turning around to walk back to you.

Your breath stopped as you watched DK pull something out of his waistband, pointing it at Han.

Panicked, you opened the car door and stormed out, ignoring the bite of the icy air as you stared down the man in front of you.

“Put the fucking gun down before I call the cops.” You said harshly, your voice cold and calm despite your erratic heart beat and breathing.

He scoffed at you, glancing up and down at your figure with an impressed grin on his face, licking his lips much to Han’s dismay.

“I control the cops princess. But nice try.”

“No, that’s your uncle DK.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “And last time I checked, your last meeting with him didn’t go too great.”

His face fell at that.

“So put the fucking gun down or you’re going to have a huge damn problem.”

Begrudgingly, he stuck it into his pocket, placing his hands up in mock surrender as you turned and walked back to the car, Han following silently with one last dirty look at him.

“Hey!” DK called out to the two of you as you were about to slide into the passenger seat. “Next time your girlfriend won’t be around to help!”

“Just get in the car.” You whispered to Han, answering DK with a loud door slam even though it killed you.

Han followed suit, the two of you sitting in silence until DK’s car had long disappeared.

“Don’t say it.” He said as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I told you so.”

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[rebeccccccaaa]

sʜʏ ɢᴜʏ

______________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hey :) I hope I can give you an idea for an imagine. You and Steve are a couple and all the other Avengers ship you a lot. Then on time at another one of Tony’s party the guys tease Steve a bit that he barely has sexual experience and he gets all flustered. Then you take him back to your shared apartment to get him in safety. You cuddle on the couch but then things start to get heated and Steve isn’t that shy guy anymore? I don’t know, something like that maybe if you want. 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT! (minors dni plz), there’s a list, so there’s choking, light bondage, major teasing, oral m!rec and f!rec, oragasm denial/control, a bit of degradation and praise ;), dacryphilia and i’m pretty sure that should be it. 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: oh boy let’s just dive in shall we

_______________________

“You two are just too cute,” Wanda gushed looking at you and Steve. You sat very close to each whispering sweet things and nonsense making each other giggle and smile all night. The team thought Steve really scored one with you. You made him so happy and carefree. 

“Gross,” Nat said, sipping her gin and tonic.

“Oh please, Nat. What are you afraid of; romance? Love?” Tony teased.

“Oh please, I can be romantic,” she said. Everyone went silent before bursting out in laughter including Nat herself, smacking the table in a flurry of humor. 

“I bet there’s no flavor. No spice. All vanilla,” she said.

“What?” you smiled with confusion in your eyes.

“You guys don’t really radiate sexual tension, lust, erotic behavior,” Tony said. 

“Well, that’s something we do in private. Nothing you guys need to know about,” Steve defended. 

“Woah, calm down captain. No one’s saying that’s a bad thing,” Bucky patted his friend's shoulder. 

“Can we drop this?” Steve sighed. 

You and Steve left the party early feeling tired and worn out. Steve’s had a busy week with missions and reports; he just wanted to lay on the couch with his girl and relax. But he couldn’t help but think about what the guys said about their sex life. He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much, it was none of their business. He realized you hadn’t defended him too much either. Did you agree? Did you think he was too vanilla? 

“Steve?” you asked softly.

“Yes, my love?”

“I asked if you were going to go to sleep right now? I tell you’re exhausted,” you cupped his face. 

No, just… come here,” he held you close slowly making his way to the couch. 

You kissed his jaw softly laying on top of him. His hands scratched your back softly and you hummed quietly into his neck. He thought back again, because he couldn’t help it, thinking about what the guys said. Maybe he should ask?

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like it when we have sex?” he asked bluntly.

“What? Of course I do; otherwise I wouldn’t keep doing it,” you nudged his shoulder playfully. 

“Well, would you mind if maybe we could try some new things?”

“Oh well, of course. Why now?” you asked; you had a feeling this had something to do with what happened earlier this night. 

“Well, I just wanna try something new,” he tried not to smile, but eventually cracked a smile making you grin.

“Baby, you don’t have to be dominator to have pleasurable sex.”

“I know but I guess I just hated everyone teasing me.”

“I know they’re mean,” you scratched his head lightly.

He looked into your eyes lovingly flickering down to your lips. You leaned in knowing his desire, your lips pressing perfectly against his. His hands held your hips lightly and you shifted over and over again grinding on his dick. Steve's hand came up to your neck and slowly wrapped a hesitant hand around it pushing you away.

“You gotta stop teasing me like that if you know what’s good for you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Steve,” you breathed out. You already like this ‘trying new things’ Steve that you’re getting tonight.

“I want you upstairs for me sitting like a good girl on the bed got it?” he practically growled. 

You instantly jumped on his lap and felt his hand come up and smack your ass before you scurried away with a giggle. You trampled through your bedroom door taking your clothes off and sat on the bed patiently. The need and desire burned in your belly and you ached for Steve to come quickly. 

Slowly, after longer than you hoped, Steve opened the door with his unbuttoned whited collared shirt and pair of grey suit pants that he wore for tonight. You bit your lip holding back a moan simply from the sight of your man. And with his dominance piercing through, you couldn’t help the arousal dripping from you.

“Look at that,” he grinned, making you feel shy under his lustful gaze. 

“So pretty,” he walked up to you holding your chin between his fingers to make you look up at him. He traced your lips faintly with the tip of his thumb and you opened your mouth invitingly, wrapping your lips around his thumb. Steve’s eye stayed trained on your mouth; thoughts of them being wrapped around his dick rather than his thumb making him harder with each passing second. 

You noticed his hungry gaze and to tease him just a bit you moved your hand over the prominent tent under his pants, softly pressed and squeezing his cock making him groan. You slowly unbuckled his belt making eye contact and unzipped his pants to pull his hard dick into your palm. 

You slowly stroked his cock in your hand, rubbing your own thumb over the tip. Steve moaned softly at the feeling before pulling his thumb out of mouth and pulling you in a feverish kiss. His knees buckled as he got closer to a release simply by your hand. You liked the power you had but you saw the switch in Steve’s eyes and he remembered that he was going to take charge tonight. 

“You had your fun?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

He softly combed his finger through your hair before tugging harshly and pushing down do you were on both your hands and knees now. You instantly stared and practically drooled over the size of Steve. It didn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you’d never be able to get over how big he was. 

“You wanna suck my cock, baby?” Steve teased.

“Yes, please. I want you to fuck my mouth, Captain,” you said seducitvely.

“Fucking hell, baby girl.”

You leaned forward immediately and stared up at Steve with faux innocent eyes. He gathered your hair and you started bobbing your head up back and forth on his cock. You reached down your front; your pussy clenching around nothing desperate for some sort of stimulation. 

“Hands where I can see them,” Steve yanked on your hair. You moaned around his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your mouth. You curled your fingers over his pants trying your best to suck on his dick. He looked down at your and the sight was a beauty. 

You’ve sucked Steve’s dick before but he was usually sitting or laying on the bed and didn’t really ever get a good look at you; you always made him feel too good. But seeing you in your fullest right now, drooling, crying, moaning, he was pushed to the edge and he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“Fuck, sucking my cock so good. I’m gonna cum,” he grunted above you. 

His hips started thrusting hitting the back of your throat and you squeezing his hips bracing yourself. You tried to breathe slowly through your nose as you slightly gagged on his cock. Your eyes rolled back and you felt his cum quickly going down your throat. You swallowed as best you could and the cum that drooled from the corners of your mouth you gathered with your fingers and sucked on them making eye contact with Steve, who panted heavily after his high. 

“Fuck, baby. That deserves a reward doesn’t. You made your captain feel so good,” Steve kissed you softly. 

Steve took his shirt off with eagerness; his chest was blushed from heat as were his cheeks, a layer of sweat coated his forehead and chest. He pulled his pants down and sat down on the bed. He laid back and grabbed your hand gentlemanly so you could straddle his face, a complete contrast to the energy in the room.

You smiled down at him combing your fingers softly through his hair. He kissed right above where you needed him most but ultimately gave in and kissed your clit. You sighed softly and bit your lip. His hands wrapped around the back of your thighs softly squeezing your cheeks with his hands. 

His tongue dipped past your folds and you gasped at the feeling. He pulled his tongue out momentarily to wrap his lips around your clit. Your body shuddered feeling him suck hard. You couldn’t help the trembling in your legs. 

Steve’s cheeks reddened even more under you but he loved it. His eyes were closed and all he could feel was you against his mouth perfectly; he was heaven. You moaned loudly above him and soon enough that coil bubbling in the pit of your stomach burst and you practically gushed all over Steve’s face. 

You fell forward and Steve sat up immediately flipped over your tired body and towered over you. He kissed you softly and you moaned into his mouth. He got off of you and the whimper you made felt pathetic.

“Awe, you gonna cry? Pathetic little whore desperate for my cock,” his words made you whined again and squirm. He walked back to you holding his belt in hand and you literally shook in anticipation. 

“Arms up baby girl,” Steve smirked.

While Steve wrapped the belt around you and you couldn’t help the smile lovingly at him. Steve noticed your beautiful smile and kissed you before going back to buckle the belt around wrists.

“What’s with the grin, beauty?”

“I like this side of you,” you whispered.

“I like this side of me too,” he winked. 

He kissed down your arms to your chest; his tongue playfully licked your nipple before nipping the bud with his teeth. Steve had enough teasing himself and the ache in his dick was becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. 

“You’re gonna keep those hands there and you’re not cum until I say so, got it?” Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him directly. You nodded eagerly.

“Yes, Captain,” He clarified.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

Steve slid into you effortlessly; you’re slick and Steve’s saliva making it easy for him to thrust into you. You bit down hard on your bottom lip trying your best to suffice a moan. Steve moaned softly before kissing you once again. As he slowly and torturously moved in and out of you, it became increasingly harder to keep your hands where they were. 

“Fuck, Captain; I want to touch you so bad,” you whined.

“I know you do; that’s what makes this so fun,” he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“I can feel ya clenching around me dick hard, baby. Do you wanna cum? You wanna make a mess all over my dick?” he mocked.

“Yes! Please, Captain. Please let me cum!”

“Wait baby, you’re gonna wait until your captain cums first and you can let it go. Don’t you dare cum until I say so,” he squeezed the sides of your throat perfectly making you nearly pass out in pleasure. 

Your hips squirmed and wiggled with each thrust; Steve brushing your G Spot perfectly. Tears brimmed your eyes as you desperately held back your climax. As much as you’d love to see how Steve would punish you, you were so beyond exhausted that you didn’t think you could handle any more releases. 

Steve kept his eyes locked with your and when he saw the tears falling from the outer corners of your eyes he grunted loudly moving his hips even more so wildly; the headboard of the bed smacking against the wall over and over again. You screamed in pleasure and your body shook. Tears emitted rapidly down your temples soaking your pillow and sheets but you loved every goddamn second of it. 

Steve kissed you messily, lustfully, sloppy, passionately. Your wrists tugged on the belt in an attempt to free the restraints; you just wanted to hold him but not being able to was so arousing. 

“You ready, baby?” Steve growled, all that came from you were shrieks and whines. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for your Captain. Let go, baby. I’m right there with ya,” Steve rested his forehead against yours.

You looked into his eyes once more before your orgasm ripped through harshly and your body writhed and trembled under him. Steve’s eyes screwed shut as his hips dug into yours with one last thrust spilling inside you perfectly. 

His arms gave out and he fell on top of you lightly pressing faint kisses to your hot skin. He barely lifted his head enough to see the wrists and lazily nbound them. In an instant you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders clinging desperately onto him making him chuckled lightly.

“Fuck, Steve. Oh my god, I love you. I love you so much,” you painted. 

“I love you too baby girl,” he whispered petting the back of your head softly.

“That was incredible! The team needs to tease you more often if that’s the outcome, holy shit,” you cupped his face and he smiled innocently at you. 

“I didn’t hurt you or anything?” he asked, grabbing your wrists softly.

“It kinda stings, but if I get to cum like that again, that’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to pay,” you said, making him laugh.

Steve cleaned both of you up quickly, changing the sheets and pillow cases while you showered, before crawling into bed with you. You clung onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. The meeting between your thighs already began to burn deliciously, the feeling of Steve still inside you. You buried your face into his neck pressing kisses and nipping playfully at his skin before ultimately falling into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

The next morning, Steve had tried to wake you but you groaned and nearly cried from how sore you were. You pouted like a child who didn't want to go to school, and because Steve loves you so much he let you stay in bed. 

“I’m going to fill out some paperwork and check in on training and I’ll be back as soon as possible. With food,” he winked.

When Steve got there he wasn’t going to lie, it felt everyone could see right through him; like they know he fucked your brains out to the point where you couldn’t walk but no one said a thing. He went into the conference room to do paperwork like he told you and headed to the gym when he was finished. 

“Hey, Steve,” Nat said after pining Peter down on the mat.

“How’s training?”

“Not good!” Peter groaned.

“He’s getting there,” Nat smirked, “Where’s Y/n?”

“She’s not feeling too well, so she stayed home.”

“Aw, maybe I should come by and-”

“No she’s ok,” Steve blurted out.

Nat squinted her eyes at him suspiciously before she noticed the many hickies and bite marks on Steve’s shoulder, barely peeking out from under his shirt. She smirked and noticed Steve beginning to blush. 

“Run her a bath, get her the rose scented lotion she likes a lot, and give her a massage. From the looks of it, she needs one.”

“Thanks,” Steve said quickly before running off to get back home to the love of his life.

============================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

[flowerwrites06]

utopic desire I — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks. 

“Glasses, five o’clock.” Yoongi muttered mostly under his breath but enough for the group to hear before taking a small sip of his reddened whiskey.

Belle felt a light rumble in her belly at his words, turning her head a little to see the male sitting quietly at the bar counter. Blue sweater with some light wash jeans, thin rimmed glasses and slightly long messy locks hovering over his temples. The tiny pout on his bottom lip only added to what an adorable specimen he was. “Jeon?” She smirked.

Yoongi shrugged mimicking the little curl on her lips as his eyes flickered to the side to get another look of him. “Hangs around with the pure bloods a lot. Must be a favourite source.”

Jungkook was the quietest whenever Belle noticed him in the pure blood crowds and with the way he held himself, it didn’t seem like he was much of a power in the group. One of the vampires who she knew was called Vira always clung to him which she could only assume meant he must have been her human.

“Could be fun annoying the shit out of Vira.” Belle mused.

“Or dangerous.” Jimin spoke up, finger tracing the brim of his glass with the drink barely sipped on. “Pure bloods don’t like us meddling.”

“They don’t like it when I meddle.” She corrected.

Pure bloods had no issue with other pure blood vampires. Even Taehyung, they tolerated despite their dated views on humans. With her though, a spawn of an original vampire and a human was downright blasphemy in their eyes. Belle still wondered to this day why Jimin, Yoongi or even Kiku thought about including her into their group, tainting their name in the academy.

Yoongi nudged Jimin’s arm harshly. “For a Park, you’re a real buzzkill, you know that?”

Jimin rolled his eyes in response, raking through his blue hair before murmuring a small apology towards Belle.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“What’re you willing to give me when I get him?” Belle leaned in, elbows rested on the surface.

A smirk plastered across the man’s lips. “If you get him to sleep with you, I’ll give you my Lamborghini.”

Belle scoffed. “Which one?”

“The Centenario.”

“Nah—I want the Veneno.”

“If you were less hot maybe but everyone wants you so…the Centenario.”

“Oh come on—”

“If it helps I’m pretty sure Yoongi came on one of the Veneno seats one time.” Kiku spoke gesturing a toothpick towards Yoongi who stammered a little.

Belle grimaced lightly. “Fine, the Centenario.”

“That’s only cause someone decided for the first time they weren’t going to swallow.”

“You literally begged me to let you come all over my face.” Kiku parted her lips in slight offense while Yoongi shifted in his seat.

“Okay now I’m really going to go.” Belle chuckled climbing off the stool and fixing her deep red, ruche dress fitted to her curves before walking to the bar counter.

Jungkook still had his eyes fixated on his drink taking one sip almost every hour while he was somehow deep in thought. Though as he noticed a figure walking his way, his head shot meeting two beetle orbs with shining ruby flecks scattered across. It glimmered in the night light resembling a dark faery of some sort though he knew she was no faery.

“Do you always sit around alone in the college bars?” Belle asked sitting down on the stool next to him, ignoring how her dress rode up her thighs when she did.

Gaze flickered down to the heavily exposed skin, body exuding a thick, warm scent flooding his nostrils and filling his lungs. Jungkook felt his head spin from the sweetness but found himself taking more in anyway. “I don’t like a whole lot of company.” He mumbled.

“Do I count as a whole lot of company?”

“Not really.”

Belle smiled, that tiny spark of accomplishment lingering in the pit of her belly but she knew not to get too excited. “I don’t like much company either.”

“You seem to have a few friends.”

“And I love them.” She nodded. “But I also love...more intimate company.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched briefly as he gripped onto the glass a little tightly. He watched her move forward with her arms folded under her chest, making them pop beautifully in the dim lighting. “What kind of intimate company?”

“Just two people. Me and them. Taking a walk, going to eat, having sex…” Belle let a small moment of silence linger between the two people before shrugging. “Intimate moments where it’s only between the two of you.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a little tingle. How it was easy to just fall into her careful words and drown in her whole aura. “Do you get to do it a lot?”

The corner of her lips curled up a little. “I haven’t for a while.”

“That’s not good.” The scent grew thicker around him again and Jungkook sought it as a good sign enough to shift closer. A layer of ice melting between them with a new brewing heat.

She hummed sadly.

“How much did he bet?”

Belle peered up at him curiously, tilting her head. It didn’t really matter whether Jungkook knew it was a bet or not at this point. She already had him close enough. “A Lamborghini Centenario.” She smiled.

Jungkook raised a brow tempted to glance over at her group but he stopped himself. Not that it was too difficult when he started unintentionally counting the little ruby flecks in her eyes. “High price for little old me.” His voice descended into a darker register as he leaned closer, feeling a strange heat radiate from her skin. “You sure you want to take it?”

“Depends…how little are you?” Belle’s eyes flickered down his body momentarily.

He chuckled, licking the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his drink. Now more than ever in this entire night, Jungkook lost full interest of filling himself up with alcohol that won’t even intoxicate him. He needed something sweeter. “Well I can’t confirm anything to you here.”

-

Hunger never tugged any stronger than a bad cramp with Belle. She found decent satisfaction in food but it was almost like strong, uncontrollable cravings when her body wanted to feed properly. A type of craving that needed to be satisfied for her own health and wellbeing. While Belle could take it more than any other vampire, refusing to take blood could still kill her just as easily.

Jungkook’s hunger was a basic need. His hunger panged and pulled at his gut, spread exhaustion through his limbs, head spinning uncomfortably. The last time he fed was on one of the history students in his group project. It was consensual but he couldn’t take much before the boy fainted. There was something different pumping through Belle’s veins, radiating with so much warmth and smelling so sweet that he made him a little dizzy.

Public bathrooms were not an ideal place for a feed but the dark purple walls and black marble floors allowed for less traces and easy clean ups. Door clicked as it locked. All Belle did was turn around before her whole body was engulfed with another, lips locked with his as he pinned her against the door. It was icy at first until it started meshing in with her own warmth allowing her to melt into it.

Somewhere deep in the thick lake of his thirst, Jungkook knew he should stop and go back to the bar to prevent any issues. If anyone found out who he was with in the bathroom stalls, they would give him hell beyond belief. But the thought drowned as quickly as he grabbed onto her hips and moved them to the sink counter.

Jungkook whipped her around until she bent over the marble counter a little, a smile curling at her reddening smudged lips. Looking into the mirror Belle admired the way his forehead knitted when she felt her dress push up to her hips. He brushed away her long hair to expose her shoulder and the crook of her neck.

Leaning in, he pressed wet kisses along her shoulder while his hips harboring a mind of its own ground against her plump bottom. His gut gripped at whatever satisfaction he could get from her smell. That thickly sweet smell just calling out to him. How was it possible? She wasn’t supposed to smell this warm. He wasn’t supposed to feel this hungry tasting her skin.

Belle tilted her head to give him more room waiting for him to get as riled up as possible before she took her own feeding. His large palms exploring every inch of her body, reaching up to her breasts and kneading them to light squeeze before trailing down her hips again.

Tongue traced across one particular spot, soft and sensitive. Fingers gripped at the roots of her hair to expose more skin before his fangs bared, white shining in the light before it sunk in. His whole body trembled in glee. The burst of warmth trailing down his throat, tasting so fucking delicious on his tongue that he kept taking in more. Jungkook moaned against her skin, one palm moving between her legs as he rubbed himself on her curve.

Her first instinct was to protest when Belle felt an intrusion on her skin. She held onto the edge of the counter so tightly that one of her nails could have cracked off. Except the words died on her tongue and the only sounds forming out of her were whimpers…pleased whimpers. The warmth that exploded through her was so thrilling, so intoxicating that her knees began to wobble.

Jungkook could feel himself getting full right to the very limit but he still took more. A slight tinge of concern sparked inside him. He was taking too much. Forcefully he pulled away and pressed his tongue against the injury to heal it quickly before taking deep breaths like they had already done the deed. He usually was really good at holding back. What was wrong with him?

“You’re a fucking trickster.” Belle breathed out with a light giggle. She really should be mad but her body felt far too satisfied to be angry. Though she still felt something stiff rubbing against her. With a cheeky smile, she swayed her hips against his causing the vampire to hiss and grab onto her.

“You wanted to do the same to me.” Jungkook spoke in a low growl, his eyes flashing back to his original red except it darkened in seconds with his ever growing lust.

“Except I can’t, can I?” Belle mumbled a little lazily, allowing him to dig his nails as much as he wanted into her skin but she still wasn’t going to stay put.

Jungkook buried his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her back so he pressed right against his torso. “You can’t tell anyone about this…” He whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her soft earlobe. “And you’ll still get your Lamborghini.”

Belle had it coming. The secret promise. Every pure blood or turned vampire asked her the same thing right when their moment of clarity passed through them after a night of heated movements and sinful noises.

‘ Don’t tell anyone I touched you. ’

‘ No one can know we were together. ’

She was never allowed to speak a word but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them jabbering how the failed breedling begged for it with their other friends. “I promise.” She muttered like a familiar song.

Jungkook searched her eyes for a moment, the ruby flecks losing their usual twinkle when she spoke those two small words. His expression softened, grip on her hair loosening before moving his hand down to fix her dress gently as if it could somehow cushion on a blow he didn’t know he caused. But it was there. He could feel the way her skin chilled slightly disallowing him to melt into her again.

Before he could truly understand what that feeling was, Belle shifted away from his hold a little, setting up her hair again in the mirror. Not a single confused twitch on her features.

Then why was he confused?

He was the one who asked to keep it a secret so that was it. It would be selfish to expect some kind of argument when there was no way around the matter.

“I’ll have to go first.” Belle broke through the momentary silence. “Yoongi won’t believe something happened if you went out before me.”

“Why not?”

Another grin tugged at her lips even though the flecks were still dull and unexcited. “I usually tire out the ones I’m with. They have to take a break or at least look really out of it afterwards.” Belle walked over to him and patted his cheek.

Jungkook scoffed lightly though a little relieved he caught the tiniest cheeky glint before she walked out of the bathroom.

-

Two mornings passed and it left the pure blood emptier than he wanted to admit. Jungkook opted to take this particular dawn to cage himself in the gym for a few hours before classes started rolling. It was the best time when the whole building was empty save for the security guards. Eventually when he tired himself out enough not to think about those ruby flecks again and have the smell of sweat instead of that sweet, warm aroma, he started preparing for the library.

Apparently Vira and a couple of others wanted to get some readings done and it was getting too sunny outside for their liking.

The academy library was vast filled with books ancient to modern adorning shelves so much taller than him he could barely see the top. Jungkook had a simple black long sleeves draped on him as he walked over to the corner table and found Vira with an empty seat to her.

Deep red lips curled up into wide grin as she patted the seat and the male didn’t really respond much before doing as she silently asked.

Jungkook never found a whole lot of interest in the conversations his group mumbled towards each other and simply opened his books to skim through readings like he thought they were supposed to do. Though even with their words tuned out a little, his eyes still flickered up to scan the shelves, a few of the tables with quiet students curling on themselves. Except one figure glowed so bright near a few tables forward.

Her hair was not as black as he imagined it was in the bar lighting. It was almost a chocolate brown, a little messy and wavy with a small clip loosely placing back on side of it. Lips in a lighter pink tinge while wearing lilac thin sleeve dress with small peach flowers scattered across from what he could catch. Jungkooks’ lips twitched a little seeing her smile so easily with such a genuine aura when a blond haired girl next to her muttered something between them.

“Kook.”

He felt a harsh nudge on his arm causing him to shake back into reality and look over at Vira again. “What?”

“We saw you sneaking in with a certain someone back at the party.” One of the other pure blood vampires, Hoseok spoke with a wide smirk tugging at his lips. “The failed breedling.”

“I thought we called her a failed experiment.” Vira commented with a ghost of a smile over to Hoseok who chuckled in response. “Some kind of deformed rat in the lab.”

Jungkook curled his fingers against the table trying to kill the words that were desperately attempting to escape through him. “She’s definitely not deformed. I mean…we’ve seen Doyoung’s nose.”

A turned vampire, Doyoung shot a glare at the male while the rest of the group laughed in full agreement though quiet enough not to echo through the room.

Hoseok then turned back to Jungkook with his eyes flashing red. “How non-deformed is she exactly?”

Nails dug deep into his palm until the skin almost ripped. Jungkook was glad he had a good ability to hide his abilities otherwise his eyes would have been permanently red from anger. “She’s…kinda perfect physically. I fed from her.” You fucking dumbass.

“You did?” Vira didn’t care to hide her grimace, hand pressing to her chest. “God, aren’t you sick?”

“It tasted good.”

“Really?” Hoseok’s eyes faded into red for longer than Jungkook was comfortable with. That same faint smirk appearing back on his lips. “How good?”

Jungkook wanted to look back at Belle. As if there was this intense pull at his belly wanting to watch her smile so genuinely again and tune this conversation out again. “Better than a human.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Doyoung’s eyes widened so much his eyes could have popped out if he wasn’t careful.

“Maybe we should tell our original masters to take in more humans to breed.” Hoseok nodded down at his open and ignored book rested there for show.

Jungkook actively ignored the comment and gathered a bit more confidence to look over at Belle’s table again. His stomach jumped to his throat when he noticed those dark orbs meet his own. He held onto it, expression softening to admire how beautifully they sparkled, how her chest rose and fell. The way her lips curled up before she leaned into whisper something in her friend’s ear.

Vira scoffed without any care for volume. “They’d rather feed on animals than do that. One abomination is enough.” Every word was harsh and cut, not a single ounce of regret in what was spewing out of her mouth.

He heard the words but paid no mind to them when Belle stood up from the chair, giving him another smile before walking over to the other end of the library where the last, abandoned aisle was.

“If you ask me then they should’ve killed her along with her dirty parents.” Vira shrugged looking down at her long deep violet nails.

“I need to find a book.” Jungkook got up from his chair and walked through the library on the other side of the shelves away from the tables. He didn’t share a single glance to Vira when she called his name.

It was almost like a pull. Dragging him across the floor like a sorry but happy puppet, running to the one who controlled his strings. She shouldn’t be controlling his strings. But Jungkook still let her.

Finally he reached the last aisle, pausing in his tracks for a moment when he saw Belle leaning back against the wall shelf with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What happened to not telling anyone?” Belle asked with a faint smirk plastered on her lips.

Jungkook walked to stand right in front of the girl, the morning sun brightly shining through the window but thankfully high enough not to beam on the floor. “Who says anyone’s going to know?”

The cute smirk stretched into a mischievous smile. “You owe me a little.”

“How’s that?”

“You fed from me.” Granted, Belle strangely enjoyed the feeling far more than she would like to admit. “Yet I haven’t gotten anything from you.”

“You don’t think it’s a little selfish?”

Without a reply, she hooked her fingers on the frilly hem of her dress, pulling it up enough for him to see those thick thighs again. “Depends on how badly you don’t want to give me anything.” Belle couldn’t help but dive deep into her gaze when looking at the male. Thin black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to show off the veins popping from his arms after his morning workout, long tresses naturally curled and touching his brows. She could just imagine those fingers gripping at her skin.

Gaze darkened as he watched her plump, pink painted lips curl up into a smile while the rubies in her eyes disappeared almost completely turning into a blackened red. “Do you enjoy making a scene?” His voice grumbled, stepping closer until once again he was met with that beautiful heat radiating from her.

“It’s not a scene if no ones’ looking.” Belle murmured, breath hitting his lips almost magnetizing him to dip his head down further. “Besides—I already know your little quiet shy boy is just a façade now. Don’t expect me not to have a little fun with it.”

Hand grabbed onto her hips like his life depended on it, pads of his finger squeezing her until he heard a light gasp. “I’m not like your other sweet humans that you tire out, darling.”

“Well I wouldn’t know much from experience, would I?” Belle tilted her head, her nerves awakening with the way his fingers deliciously dug through her clothes into her skin almost forming permanent dimples.

Jungkook walked forward letting her stumble back so she rested further against the last shelf of books. Her scent filling her nostrils again and he sniffed in letting it flood his lungs and thicken right up to his throat. His hands latched off her hip and trailed down her short dress, rough fingers tracing her soft thigh. Sliding up thin clothing between her legs, his hands paused where he felt heat. Wet heat soaking through a thin soft fabric, almost soggy when he pressed his fingers against it.

Belle let out a shaky breath, gently caressing his rising chest. As the male pressed harder she could feel her erect nub throbbing out for him. The light spark of pleasure caused her to close her eyes. What a mistake that was. Almost instantly the pressure on her panties stopped and another hand grabbed onto her chin.

“Look at me.” Jungkook growled under his breath. Eyes flashed red when their gazes met again causing Belle to smile albeit a little shakily.

A soft hum emitting in her throat, Belle felt his rough fingers sneak into her panties. Rubbing straight against her nub jolting sparks of pleasure through her veins. It was too tempting to close her eyes and fully relish into the sensations but she kept her gaze on him. His eyes faded into an extremely deep crimson.

Fingers caressed circles on her delicate clit before sliding down her dripping slit. Spreading her nether lips, he slowly pushed in his middle digit, curling up deeper as he hungrily watched Belle part her mouth and throw her head back against the shelf. Jungkook dipped in latching his lips onto her jugular to get more of her taste. So warm. So fucking sweet. He tried to muffle out the groan against her skin. Jungkook pulled his finger out and slid back up to her clit, increasing his pace into a mild assault of pleasure.

Belle brushed through his slightly cold hair, giggling lightly as he gently grazed his teeth on the side of her neck before kissing her jawline. She tried soften her moans with her trembling breaths but tiny noises of desperation still escaped. The rush tightened in her lower belly. Warmer. Hotter. Her hips jerked against his movements, almost standing on her tiptoes.

Then her ears pricked for a moment. Footsteps echoing a little closer than normal.

“Someones’ coming.” Belle whispered in a shaky tone, trying to push Jungkooks’ hand out of her panties but he didn’t budge.

“I thought you liked making a scene, baby.” He swirled his finger around her clit in a tantalizing pace again forcing her orgasm to move to a distance again.

“Jungkook—”

As the footsteps grew closer, Jungkook whipped her around so she faced the shelf. The librarian appeared at the aisle giving them a quick glance as Belle pretended to pick up a book.

It only took a few minutes of her gazing around, looking for a book rather than watching them directly but it thickened the frustration between the couple. Belle cupped her core gently trying to gain more friction to keep her pleasure driving closer though it was hard not to move too fast.

Once the librarian disappeared, Jungkook dipped his hand back without a single moment of hesitation, rubbing up and down her slit to spread her arousal before torturing her clit again. Head buried in her shoulder he viciously rubbed her bundle of nerves as she held onto the shelves for dear life while the book she held dropped to the ground.

Belle leaned her forehead against the shelf feeling the tightness in her lower belly. Calling out to her and yearning for more of his touch. Fingers wrapped around his forearm as it moved at a lightning pace. “J-Ju—” Heat surged through her body spreading across her limbs, knees shaking causing to almost stumble onto the floor but Jungkook kept her steady. She let out a clearer whimper as he continued to drawl out her orgasm, rubbing at her sensitive nub at a tantalizing pace.

Jungkook pressed roughly against her clit causing Belle to whine and giggle breathlessly. He couldn’t help but grin at the sweet sound, relishing in the aroma of lust mixing in with her natural scent. He turned her around more gently, taking his fingers into his mouth and suckling off her delicious release. “Is that good enough?” He brushed and fixed the light tresses hovering over the girl’s face.

She grinned brushing down the creases in her dress. “Much better.” Belle reached out and absentmindedly caressed the neckline of his shirt with a softer expression across her features, padding closer until her forehead was almost touching his chin. She had a light hum under her breath as she nudged her nose against his jawline.

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asked, immediately regretting his words when he felt her comforting touch leave him making him feel empty.

Belle stammered stepping back a little and avoiding his gaze. He won’t care for you. “Nothing.” She mumbled quickly picking up the book from the floor, placing it back on the shelf. This was all you were meant for. “Sorry.” Was the final word uttered before she rushed to disappear out of the aisle.

Jungkook took a deep breath to call her back but the words died on his tongue. He had a feeling why she did it. That needy feeling to just cuddle into a warm body after coming down from a high. The little want to be taken care of. The knowledge of it all only caused a squeeze in his chest. I’m sorry.

NEXT PART >>

[babyboy-cody]

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

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Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

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After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

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Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

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CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

[fruitydiaz-archived]

my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

[datleggy]

Missing Scene 4x08 9-1-1 fox

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR “BREAKING POINT”

By the time he manages to grab his keys, jump into his truck, drive halfway across town and find parking in Buck’s neighborhood, Eddie is a mess of nerves as he makes his way across the threshold and into the loft. “Buck, where’s--” 

Buck shushes him immediately, pointing upstairs to where his bedroom is. “He’s exhausted. He ate one of those oven ready mac n’ cheese meals in my fridge and practically fell asleep on my couch; I carried him up to bed a few minutes ago. He’s knocked out up there.” 

Eddie sighs, the relief he feels is staggering. 

He quietly makes his way upstairs and lingers at the top step, watching his kid sleep soundly, his chest moving up and down rhythmically with every breath he takes. Eddie stands there and simply takes in the sight for a handful of minutes before slowly making his way back down and to the kitchen, where Buck is leaning back against his counter sipping on a beer. 

There’s another one on the table waiting for him and he gratefully grabs it, taking a long gulp before sitting it back down and letting out a deep sigh. 

“So uh, what exactly happened?” Buck asks, and there’s something about his tone Eddie can’t decipher, but he knows it’s not good. 

“I told you already, he found out I started dating someone and clearly he didn’t take it so well.” Eddie takes another swig of his beer, huffing in frustration. 

Buck places his drink down on the counter and folds his arms, “Yeah, I know that part, what I don’t get is how Christopher managed to literally run away from home with you in the house? What were you doing when he took your phone, used it to call an Uber and had some stranger drive him here in the middle of the night?” 

Accusatory. That’s what that tone is, Eddie finally identifies. “Are you serious right now?” he slams his beer bottle down with unnecessary force and Buck gives him a warning look. 

He half whispers, half yells, when he says, “No shit I’m serious. Answer the question.” 

Eddie blinks, surprised and equal parts irritated by the ire he’s receiving from Buck of all people. Lawsuit aside, Buck has never not been on Eddie’s side; this entire confrontation feels wrong and foreign to him. “I was on a video call with Ana, I had my headphones in, I knew Christopher was upset about the news, but I didn’t think he would--” 

“This? What happened tonight? This was the best case scenario, and I know damn well you know that. Christopher got into some strangers car tonight. Eddie, what if I hadn’t been home? He didn’t have a phone with him or anything, he didn’t even take your copy of my key with him, just in case Albert and I weren’t here. What the hell would he have done then? Hung out in the hallway or God forbid roamed the streets and waited for someone to notice an unattended nine year old?” Buck’s been angry before, but nothing compares to the wrath brewing somewhere deep in the pit of his belly right now.

Eddie goes on the defense, glaring at Buck from across the table in the half light. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me when you’re not a parent yourself, Buck. What do you expect from me? I can’t keep an eye on Christopher twenty four seven--how the hell was I supposed to know he’d leave like that?!” 

Buck glares at him right back, matching his intensity, times ten. “First of all, keep your voice down--he’s sleeping.” Buck plows on, even as Eddie tries to talk over him. “And secondly, I don’t need to be a parent to know you fucked up tonight the same way I don’t need to be a pilot to know that if the plane went down something’s wrong. How could you not hear him leaving? Were you two watching a goddamn movie over skype, is that why you didn’t hear the damn door open and shut? Christopher’s a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of ‘em Eddie.” 

“What the fuck is your problem right now? What? You think I don’t feel shitty enough already? You wanna add insult to injury on top of everything?” Eddie scoffs, aggravated and hurt and on the attack. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how to take care of my kid. He’s mine, not yours, in case you forgot.” 

Buck takes a step back, like he’s been dealt a harsh blow. “That’s not--I’m not saying--” he stammers, his face crumpling into despair. “I was scared.” he hides his face in his palms, exhaling fully. “Jesus Christ Eddie, I saw him standing outside my building in the cold, trying to work the handle, and he was alone and when I brought him inside and he told me everything, about the phone and the Uber ride I instantly thought about every single little thing that could have gone so horribly wrong, how it was a miracle he made it all the way here and that he was safe--” his voice cracks on the last word and he turns his back to Eddie, his shoulders shaking. 

Fear. Fear is what Eddie had felt. Instant hot white fear and an overwhelming panic, for those few brief awful moments wherein he’d had no idea where Christopher had run off to. 

“Shit.” Eddie lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that--you’re a good dad, I just--all I can think about right now is the tsunami, about how I lost Christopher, about how I couldn’t breathe until--” 

“You found him.” Eddie finishes softly. He makes his way to Buck and settles a hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing the nape of his neck. “I know the feeling. Trust me. Every parents worst nightmare.” 

Buck turns around, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “I know I’m not Christopher’s dad, I swear that’s not what I was trying to--” 

Eddie shakes his head. “That wasn’t fair, what I said. I know everyone sees me and thinks, ‘single dad’, but I don’t know if I would have survived this whole parenting thing without you by my side, Buck. And that’s the hard truth. I mean, hell, we get into an argument and the first person Christopher turns to is you. You know that’s gotta count for something, don’t you?” 

Buck swipes at his face when a stray tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry...about what I said. I think I was just projecting.” 

Eddie gulps, “No. You weren’t.” he admits, pressing his lips together. “I did fuck up tonight. Big time. I should have been in Christopher’s room, talking to him about everything, trying to explain to him that nothing about our relationship is going to change, just because I’m dating, and that no one could replace his mother, I should have been in there, making sure he understood--especially after how volatile his reaction was and then the whole storming off after. Instead I decided to spend an hour on skype talking to Ana about it.” He sighs. “Christopher’s been my first and main priority for so long, I guess I’m not used to splitting my attention between two people. I uh, I need to work on that...” 

“Bucky?” 

Eddie and Buck both whip their heads up to where Christopher is leaning against the railing, peeking down at the both of them. 

“Hey bud, you ok?” Buck hastily tries to turn his expression into something more neutral. 

“Had a bad dream.” Christopher looks at the two men pleadingly. “Can you guys come sleep with me?” 

Eddie turns to Buck and they communicate silently, with only a couple of looks, ultimately deciding that it is, in fact, bedtime. 

“We’ll be right up.” Eddie tells him. 

[labelleofbelfastcity]

(cw: night yorb possession, brief descriptions of hospitals/doctors)

“I’m scared, The Ball.”

Riz’s breath catches in his throat as he leans against the wall below Fabian’s window. It’s spring and a flowery breeze drifts over Fabian’s sprawling lawn, swirling around Riz and kicking up his curls. It’s dark, too, which is why Riz is here. Starlight catches on the grass and the white roses of the garden. Riz breathes it in and presses himself closer to the wall, further away from the silvery light and into the shadows.

“I know you said you’re fine but I just... This is so stupid, what am I, a twelve year old girl?” Fabian’s on his balcony, the metal bottom of which is providing Riz his shield from the stars.

Riz doesn’t picture the way Fabian probably looks, leaning on the railing, hair ruffled by wind and eye a little sad and tired. Riz doesn’t picture it just like he doesn’t hide from his own best friend.

“You’re literally right across town,” Fabian mutters, and Riz has to strain himself to hear. “I could just go see you. I should just go see you. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

Technically, Riz should be in bed right now. The doctor was very stern about the wonders a full eight hours could do for a sticky possession, and his friends had seemed hopeful when he told them about potential easy cures, that there might be a way out of this one that avoids death and gods and pain. It was a doctor who told him this, though, and Riz had never been particularly fond of them, so he’d politely nodded his head, because his mom was in the room, and then proceeded to do everything but change his piss poor sleep schedule, even though he knew Kristen could sense the levels of exhaustion building up and Adaine could see the rings under his eyes.

He spends most of his nights in his office, trying and failing not to think or say the two words that make him nauseous, that make his bones ache and his eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of his head. Most nights, however, are not all of them, and the others he spends here, at Seacaster Manor. Which is why he’s so surprised to hear Fabian talking to him, or, rather, talking to the wind that bears his name. Because Fabian is always so careful, when there is a chance at being overheard.

Fabian heaves a sigh and the metal above Riz shifts. “I don’t know how to help you, The Ball. You won’t... you won’t let me help you.”

Riz bites his tongue and closes his eyes and lets the breeze and the words whip over his face, ignores the burning of the tattoo across his chest in favor of the sting of claws in his palms.

“I wish you would just fucking take care of yourself for once. God, it shouldn’t be too hard. It shouldn’t be... these things are supposed to be easy for people like you.”

People like me? Riz thinks, before he reminds himself that he isn’t allowed to think anymore.

“You’re basically being given a mandatory vacation. That sounds,” Fabian blows out a breath and it adds a new tone to the whistling in Riz’s ears. “That sounds so nice.”

Riz chews the inside of his mouth—it’s already a raw and bloody mess from weeks of this and he isn’t sure what it could possibly hurt to keep going.

“But you don’t, you don’t get to rest, ever, even when you need it. You don’t let yourself. I don’t understand you.”

Riz gets that a lot, even from the people, the creatures who cohabit his body. Riz is used to that. It hurts, a little, anyway.

And then Fabian says something truly surprising, something that finally pulls the back part of Riz’s brain from where it’s sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of night yorb night yorb night yorb night and back into himself, the part that he can still allow to be himself, that he can still trust to be himself.

“You’re my best friend. I love you. I wish you’d let me help.”

Fabian never says those things. Never. Not even when Riz is cold and dead in the dirt of a forest. Not even when Riz is shaking and trying not to cry in bed after bed in hospital after hospital, as surgeons and clerics and wizards attempt to remove his tattoo. Fabian never says those words, no matter how many times Riz does.

He immediately follows it up with another, “This is so stupid.” And then the metal creaks and Fabian’s sliding glass doors drag on the floor and Riz hears footsteps pause, directly over his head, on the threshold of his bedroom and balcony. “I’ll make sure you’re okay, The Ball. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

The stars twinkle overhead. The breeze is much more like wind now than it was before. Riz presses his head against the wall and breathes.

[moonknightly]

eyes on me : fo! poe dameron x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Excerpt: “But when he’d looked at you with those dark eyes and that crooked grin, when he’d sauntered up to you and simply pointed at the ground with the confidence in knowing you’d obey his orders? You wanted him to ruin you in a different way.”

Warnings: Consensual non-consent!! Rough blowjobs, gunplay, violence. Pre-established scene gone slightly wrong, but the aftercare is there. This fic is definitely not for everybody so pleeeeease do not read it if you aren’t absolutely 100% comfortable doing so. Stay safe babies. 

The smell of smoke filled your lungs, but you didn’t cough. Ash and dust clouded your vision, but you didn’t dare rub your eyes. Your knees ached, bloodied and cut open from the gravel underneath you, but you didn’t dream of wincing or readjusting. You couldn’t remember how long you had been down on them, your eyes glued to the toes of his boots as he stood in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time he moved or the last time he spoke.

But you did remember his words. They were playing over and over again in your mind, filling your stomach with nerves and anxiety.

Stay still.

Stay absolutely still, or he’d make you.

You weren’t exactly sure if his words were only an innuendo, or if he quite literally meant them.

If Poe Dameron’s reputation rang true, it was probably a mixture of both — something sinister yet arousing all wrapped into one.

He was lethal. Powerful. Everything you feared yet something you’d always admired. Even now as he stood before you, his presence completely threatening and formidable, you still weren’t convinced that the way your stomach flipped was entirely bad. You almost thought you had butterflies.

Lethal. Powerful. Threatening. Formidable.

It didn’t make any sense to you, how a man could be all of these things yet still have you clenching your thighs.

He’d done something so terrible, yet that didn’t seem to register in your mind.

He had stormed your village, him and his strongest fleet of ‘troopers, setting fire to everything in his path. Destroying your home. Killing your loved ones, the blood still on his hands, settling between the cracks and the lines, staining. He’d ruined everything, everything.

But when he’d looked at you with those dark eyes and that crooked grin, when he’d sauntered up to you and simply pointed at the ground with the confidence in knowing you’d obey his orders?

You wanted him to ruin you in a different way.

You wanted him to ruin you, and simply giving into him just wasn’t enough, just wouldn’t do it. You wanted to fight him, you wanted him to overpower you and take what he wanted. You wanted him to show you that power of his, up close and personal, raw and untamed.

He’d seen it in your eyes, right before you took off running. He’d seen that lust and the desire and fuck, he thought he liked that more than if you’d just submitted to him.

And you were beyond into it, even more than you thought you would be as you listened to his boots pounding the stone ground just a few feet behind you, always right on your heel.

Maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or maybe it was how his hands always reached out to grab you but he’d let you slip away just so he could catch you again. Maybe it was the borderline insane laugh that flew from his lips when he finally tackled you, when he wrestled you to the ground as you fought with all of your energy until you had nothing left to give, your exhaustion finally allowing him to pull you into the position you were currently in. Maybe it was the blaster he had pressed to your forehead, the cold metal a shocking contrast against your hot skin.

He was holding it so still. His hand never twitched, fingers never needing to be repositioned as they curled around the handle, as his index hovered right over the trigger. His lack of movement showed nothing but discipline and control, but also assurance that yes, he would pull that trigger without so much as a second thought if you didn’t do exactly as he asked of you. It was cocky, confident, almost arrogant, and it had you trembling.

It was exactly what you wanted.

And you wanted to move. You wanted to shift your weight off of your knees, but you weren’t willing to risk it even though you knew he wouldn’t really shoot, not now. You wished you had the discipline that he had, because you were so close to wavering and the thought terrified you as you immersed yourself in your little game with him.

The pressure and the coolness of the blaster finally faded from your skin, and you finally let your chest heave with a sigh of relief, the sound shaky and desperate through your parted lips. It made Poe smirk, though you didn’t glance up at him to be able to know that.

You could just feel it.

And just as you were getting used to the feeling of not having a deadly, terrifying weapon on you, you heard a soft click, and glanced towards where the blaster was being held by his side.

The damn safety had been on the entire time.

And the fact that he had just turned it off sent a chill down your spine, panic running through your veins, turning your entire body to ice. If you had been still before, now you were frozen.

He laughed again.

“Sweetheart, I told you, you don’t have a thing to worry about as long as you do exactly what I fuckin’ say. Right?”

You didn’t answer, still not trusting yourself to move or speak, because he really hadn’t given you permission to, had he?

But maybe you had been wrong, because he tsked under his breath, and the familiar cold metal of his weapon met your still parted lips, pushing until the tip of the blaster was resting against your tongue, your lips loosely around the barrel.

You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over, and the noise that flew from his mouth had the audacity to sound almost concerned.

Poe took a step closer to you, his body no longer angled, hips now directly in front of your face, eyelevel. He brought the end of the blaster to sit directly in front of his crotch, and your eyes widened as the full implication of what he wanted you to do suddenly hit.

“Look at me.”

You didn’t hesitate in following his command, your eyes fluttering up to meet his as your cheeks burned.

He pushed the blaster further between your lips, making you take it, stopping just short of the spot that would make you gag, as if he had been in your mouth before to know that.

“You’re going to suck on this blaster and pretend it’s my cock,” he started, voice low, dripping with something sensual yet dangerous all in one. “And then I’ll let you go, no strings attached. Sound like a deal darling?”

You whimpered around the blaster, more tears springing to your eyes at the same moment you felt another rush of wetness flood between your legs. You stretched your lips further around the blaster, forcing yourself to hold eye contact with him as you experimentally bobbed your head. You ignored it when the sharp edge of the sight scraped the roof of your mouth.

“That’s it,” he praised, weaving his free hand into your hair, his grip loose but still tight enough to command your attention.

You weren’t expecting him to shove the blaster further into your mouth, the tip pressing right against the back of your throat as he held you firmly there, not allowing you to move even a centimeter backwards.

And you choked, the tears you’d been holding back now freely streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe, but you kept your eyes locked on his, knowing he was getting off on seeing you in such a compromised state. And just when you thought he was finally going to relent, when he pulled back just enough for you to finally inhale again, he bucked his hips forward, sending the weapon right back to where it had been before, only with more force.

Your eyes immediately slammed shut, and Poe didn’t like that at all if the sharp smack to your cheek was anything to go by.

“Eyes on me sweetheart.”

You whimpered again, still trying to get a grip on your gag reflex, but you followed his directions anyways, afraid of what would happen if you disobeyed.

His bottom lip was pulled gently between his teeth, his eyes hard and cold and full of lust, bringing another round of butterflies back to the pit of your stomach that only intensified the longer he stared. He pulled back again, just long enough for you take a deep breath or two before he started to fuck your face with his blaster, his eyes locked onto your lips and the way they parted and stretched.

You wondered if he’d stretch your mouth further.  

You weren’t sure how much time passed when he finally ripped the blaster from your mouth, not bothering to wipe it off as he stuck it back into his waistband after twisting it around in his hand to examine it.

Your breathing was ragged, your throat burned like it never had before, and the satisfied smirk on Poe’s face told you that he knew it too. He liked the fact that you were going to struggle with the soreness for a few days, he liked the fact that you were suffering for him and his pleasure.

You liked it too.

But neither of you were still entirely satisfied.

“Unzip my pants, and take out my cock.”

Your eyes widened in mock shock to offplay the way your mouth started to water. “But you said-”

“Haven’t you learned that people lie sweetheart?” he chuckled lowly, his grip in your hair tightening as he used it for leverage to pull you to him, your nose hitting the front of his pants. “Does this look like something I’m just gonna take care of myself?”

A third whimper.

“Now unzip my pants, take out my cock, and let me fuck that filthy little mouth.”

You hesitated, wanting to see how far you could push him. He wasn’t patient, by any means of the word, and he growled after only a few seconds, his free hand moved to his hip, ripping his blaster back out and setting it almost lazily against your temple.

That fear came rushing back, and your stomach flipped again, but this time you were positive that it was in a way that you liked. You quickly obliged, fumbling just a little with his belt and the fasteners on his pants, your hands trembling like they had been before.

You hoped he didn’t plan on making you take all of him, because you had absolutely no idea how you would manage to do that.

He smeared his tip along your slightly parted lips, and you couldn’t pretend to fight your desire anymore. Your tongue immediately darted out to lick at the drop of precome that was hanging from your top lip, and Poe moaned at the sight, pushing himself further between your lips, definitely stretching them further than his blaster had.

And you really started to like it.

You liked the way his breathing hitched when you swirled your tongue around him, and you liked the way his hand in your hair remained tight, using it to guide you along his length. You liked the way you were throbbing between your legs just from the soft grunts and small growls flying from his mouth.

You liked the fact that you were making a First Order captain feel good, that you were making him fall apart and lose his composure.

His hips started to thrust into your mouth at a relentless pace, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much like the blaster had, and the tears started streaming again. Poe groaned.

And then your nose was suddenly pressed against his pelvic bone, and he was so far down your throat you weren’t exactly sure how he had gotten there.

“Swallow around my dick.”

You obeyed.

He held you there for a long moment, relishing in the sound of you gagging around him, loving the warm and wet feeling of your mouth taking his cock. He bucked his hips once, and you were just starting to see black around the sides of your vision when he pulled himself out.

You blinked rapidly, coughing and spluttering, spit trickling down your chin.

And Poe only laughed, tucking his still hard cock back into his pants, but guiding your hands back to his belt, expecting you to fasten it for him.

You were so entirely confused, and for a second, you thought you hadn’t been doing as good a job as you thought. Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at your hands, still on your knees, a blaster still aimed at your head and you were so entirely embarrassed enough as it was, knowing you shouldn’t have enjoyed the situation that just played out, but not being able to satisfy him? That only made the shame worse.

“Get up, come on,” he sighed suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t react first, didn’t listen to his command immediately. You just stared at a random spot on the ground with a vacant look in your eye, unable to make yourself move. You heard him shift above you and your eyes immediately slammed shut, but instead of pressing his blaster back into your temple like you half expected him to, he did something you weren’t expecting at all.

Poe fell to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You instinctively flinched away, your body starting to shake again before you had a chance to even try and hide how afraid you actually were.

“Darling? Hey, hey look at me. It’s over, we’re done. You’re safe.”

All you could do was whimper and shake your head in response, your breathing quickly becoming rapid. You tried to pull away from him, and there was just a little bit of hesitancy before he let you go.

“Baby,” he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing though your eyes were still closed, you didn’t catch it. “Color?”

He knew his question was redundant. It was obvious what your answer would be, he knew it already, but he felt the need to ask anyways.

“Red.”

You hated that it was red.

You’d been fine. You’d been so completely in the green, so turned on and ready for more until suddenly you weren’t, until you’d become so lost in the scene you started to believe it was real and not something you and your Captain had set up so long ago.

But that was a good sign, the fact that you were able to pinpoint exactly where it had gone wrong, that you were slipping back into reality so quickly. Poe had caught you at a good time, he’d gotten to you before you spiraled too deep.

“Can I touch you?” he asked softly, silently cursing at himself for not asking the first time. “Will you let me carry you back to the ship princess?”

You didn’t give him an answer. Instead you ran your hands across your face and sighed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I know we talked about this and everything.”

It’d been your idea actually, it was your fantasy to be chased by a First Order Captain. It was something you’d thought about for so long now, and this mission just proved to be the perfect opportunity to try it out.

So why couldn’t you handle it?

You glanced up when you heard Poe stand again, his boots crushing the loose gravel beneath his feet. “Darling you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But-”

“No. You know you can back out at any time.”

Poe took a step closer, and this time, you didn’t flinch away. He reached out his hand, careful not to move too fast and accidentally spook you. You took it and let him help you to your feet.

“I know.”

“But do you?”

You nodded, but Poe wasn’t entirely convinced. Still, he didn’t push it. That was a conversation you could have later, once you were rested up and feeling more like yourself. His main goal right then was just to take care of you.

“Can I carry you?” he asked again, watching your face closely so he could see if your emotions matched your words.

This time you nodded, and this time he was satisfied with what he saw. He was quick to lift you into his arms and hold you against his chest, and the familiar warmth of his body was an instant comfort to you.

He walked slowly, through desolate streets and smoking buildings, and the whole time he never let his eyes stray away from yours.

That. That was what you needed more than anything, those stupid brown eyes.

Lethal. Powerful. Threatening. Formidable.

Soft only for you. Warm. Home.

Those stupid brown eyes that served as a gentle reminder that he’d never hurt you, he’d never let anyone lay a finger on you.

“Eyes on me sweetheart.

“Eyes on me.”

[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It’s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn’t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[waking-dreams-of-harmony]

The Last Dragon

Below the read more I've posted 7 very small sections of a fic that is based on this beautiful and tragic fanvid. I got literal chills watching it. If you wanna sob over our queen and her son wanting to avenge his mother, give it a watch.

I don't think I'll ever go any further, as my writing had an unfortunate run in with a brick wall, which then toppled over it and crushed any urge to write the next bit.

It's not too terrible--though it could actually be total shit, I'm not known for my writing 😂--and it was just gonna gather dust on my laptop, so figured I might as well post it. This was one of my ways of dealing with that fucked up last season within the framework of the show. I dont believe this is Dany's end, and I loathe with every fiber of my being what happened to her and her found family. And after seeing that video, the idea of Drogon doing everything he could to avenge the mother he loved more than anything appealed to that anger inside me. So I'll understand if this isnt for everyone ❤

Chapter 1

Mother.

He flies, great black wings carrying them away.

Mother.

Sharp, massive claws curl in gently. Protectively.

Mother is gone.

The cold creeps, burning against his scales the way fire never has.

Mother don’t leave.

A whisper on the wind calls to him.

Mother it hurts.

East, it sighs. It smells of smoke, and fire. Hope.

He follows, wings beating faster.

They took you.

The rage flares, searing away the cold.

They killed you.

The heat of it bursts within him, scaled skin shaking with the strength of it.

Fire and blood.

Jaws stretch wide, and the air burns red with grief.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 2

The sky bleeds red from the dying sun when Drogon reaches Volantis. The whisper that drew him there stops as he lands on an open balcony.

A woman stands before him, black hair and red robes flying up in the gust of wind from his wings. His claw gently opens, Mother’s cold body slowly sliding onto the hard stone.

Crimson, mournful eyes watch the red woman kneel by Mother, pale fingers hovering over her, not touching, for a long moment.

“I cannot bring her back, Drogon,” she murmurs, regretful.

He throws his head back, bellows fury and sadness into the sky. No, Mother, come back. I am alone.

A faint brush at the back of his mind--where Mother used to be, his brothers, the thoughts they shared together--grasps his attention. Makes him look back down at the red woman.

“I cannot give you back Daenerys Targaryen, but I can give you something else.”

His nostrils flair, and his head moves closer.

“I can give you the revenge you desire. As it stands, you may be able to raze the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, turn it all to ash, but that would not be what your mother wanted.”

Drogon growls, lips pulled up in a snarl. Sheep. All are sheep. Betrayed Mother. Killed Mother. No mercy.

She nods her head. Comprehends what he is unable to say out loud.

“Yes, they all betrayed Daenerys, took from her and killed her when her visions grew too great for their small minds. They could not grasp that the Mother of Dragons was above all a breaker of chains. She would have freed us all.”

She pauses, then continues, her voice hard. “They need to be punished. And they will be. But Daenerys’ dreams must be realized. Dragon’s Bay must remain free. The Dothraki cannot return to what they were, raping and pillaging. And the petty lords of Westeros must be laid low. Those who destroyed Daenerys must see their reigns come to an end not only by dragon fire, but by the unification of the people they have ground into the dust, unified against them.”

“A dragon has the power to do great things, but to lead men, to lead armies, that is the one thing you cannot do, Drogon. Not as you are. You must be more. And by the Lord of Light’s grace, you can become exactly what the people need.”

Drogon rumbles in frustration, steam billowing from between his sharp, clenched teeth. He doesn’t understand.

“Human, Drogon. You must become human.”

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 3

They take Mother, to clean her, he is told. Remove the dagger, her clothes. Wash the blood away.

The red woman directs him to fly from the balcony, down into an open courtyard below. A large fire pit rages with a towering flame. It warms him, feels like Mother’s hand caressing his scales.

Dragons cannot cry. A mournful moan makes his great neck tremble. Human. Perhaps he can cry when he is human.

People in red robes enter the courtyard, one after another, until they circle around Drogon. His tail twitches. Their closeness agitates him.

The red woman appears, crossing the circle to stand in front of the fire. Hatred fills him when he sees what is in her hands. The dagger stained with Mother’s blood. Coward. The coward’s dagger.

“I am sorry Drogon. It is a necessary piece of the ritual. Soon,” she soothes, “you will have all you need to begin your campaign against the traitors.”

Another voice brushes against that same place in his mind. That lonely place where Mother, Rhaegal, and Viserion once lived. Soon, it too promises.

The red woman turns her head, scans the other acolytes before catching Drogon’s eyes.

“Let us begin.”

Voices hum together in chant, and the sky is filled with an agonized roar.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 4

Drogon.

He groans.

Drogon, my love.

Everything hurts.

You cannot sleep forever, my beautiful boy.

He moves his head slightly. Cringes at the sharp pain.

Wake up, Drogon.

Mother? Why does everything hurt so much?

It’s time.

The voice begins to fade. He reaches out a hand, slowly, to make it stay, and freezes. He has a hand. A human hand.

Fingers curl into his palm, and the nails scratch against his skin, bite into it. His legs scrape against the stone as he slowly stretches out one, then the other.

He can still feel the fire to the side of him; it feels heavier, pressing on his skin but it does not hurt his flesh.

What burns more painfully is the missing weight of his wings. No flight for him now.

Cold fingers brush his shoulder, curve sharply to hold him when he recoils.

“Drogon?”

He doesn’t like to be held, or touched, no one but Mother, and his brothers, but they are gone. Gone, gone, gone…

“Drogon! It is only me, Kinvara!” The voice finally penetrates, and he stops pulling away.

Allowing for her help, he rolls carefully onto his back. Sharp pebbles dig into his skin. No scales to protect him anymore.

He feels her fingers move to his face, tracing the human features. “Open your eyes Drogon. See what the Lord of Light has gifted to you.”

Gift? No gift. Just more pain. Weakness. But he opens his eyes. The fire from the pit is soothing, warm. Warmer than...before. Would it burn him? His hand flinches towards it but he’s not close enough to touch.

He turns his eyes toward Kinvara. She is smiling, eyes reflecting the fire’s light.

She waves a hand towards an acolyte. “Bring me a robe. We must cover our dragon prince.”

Red cloth is laid over him, and two other acolytes help Drogon to sit. They hold him up as the other wraps the robe around him more securely.

Drogon grits his teeth, blood rushing angry and hot.

He tries to talk, mouth struggling to form the human words. “W-We—” He growls, tries again. “W-Weak.”

“For now,” she says. “But you will grow stronger, I promise you.”

Drogon struggles to stay awake, but bone deep exhaustion pulls at him, and his frustration wanes as he slips into slumber.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 5

Four moons pass before Drogon is ready to set sail for Meereen. He was like a hatchling again, unsteady, vulnerable, and he hated it. Kinvara and her priests taught him the ways of his new body, how to eat and walk, to read their words.

Coarse fabric to wear instead of steely scales.

But now it is time. Time to search out Grey Worm. Daario. The Unsullied and Dothraki. Train with them and become stronger. Much stronger.

He knew how to fight as a dragon. Armies and castles were nothing against the heat of his fire. He must learn how to wage war as humans do.

Wrapped in a red cloak, hood hanging low over his face, Drogon is ready to begin.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 6

They are waiting for him at the dock after the sun has set, Grey Worm and Mother’s sellsword, two silent figures who do not move, do not speak until Drogon stands before them.

Daario breaks the silence first. “Drogon?”

He pulls back his hood, unnaturally crimson eyes in a human face flashing in the near dark.

Daario sucks in a breath, then huffs out a laugh. “If the red priests had not sent word ahead, I may not have believed it. But by the gods, here you stand.” He reaches out an arm for Drogon to clasp.

He does so, hesitantly, but with a firm grip. Human greetings still puzzle him.

Grey Worm steps closer then kneels, bows his head bowed, fist pressed against his chest. “Ñuha dārilaros. Bisy qringaomatan īlva dāria. Īlon emagon ossēntan se nāpāstre skoriot pōnta iōrtan (My prince. This one failed our Queen. We should have killed the traitors where they stood.).”

Drogon does not know if he is asking for forgiveness or absolution.

Dragons have no real concept of forgiveness. He should be angry the traitors were allowed to live. But Grey Worm is kin, as the little scribe had been. Mother’s old bear too, and the white-haired knight. Everyone who had been under Mother’s protection, had been under her children’s protection as well. And would continue to be.

“Rise, Grey Worm.” His voice is rough and sharp edged, and it seems to startle the two men to hear him speak. “Those that hurt Mother, that used her and took her life will be punished as they deserve. But I need your help. So rise. Let us repay them with fire and blood. For Mother. For Missandei. For them all.”

He holds out a hand, waits.

Grey Worm looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears. His lips tremble, then firm. He takes Drogon’s hand.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 7

They convene in Mother’s chambers, the map room he would never have been able to fit in before almost cavernous to him now.

Spread out around the table, the three men pull together a plan as they look down at the map.

First, they will weed out the opposition in Essos, solidify their hold in the east. Astapor, Yunkai, they will all come to heel, every slave freed. They would be as clever as Mother had been, keep the number of innocents lost as low as they could. Drogon would prefer to burn through the Good Masters, snap them up and tear them apart, but for Mother, he would be patient, and take the slower path. All the slavers would still die, and their victims would live, and live free.

But for what Drogon had planned, he needed steel in place of claws, armor instead of dragonhide. He needed Grey Worm and Daario to make him as fearsome as a human as he’d been as a dragon. And that would take time.

He ground his blunted teeth together; he hated waiting. Hated it. But let the traitors think they were safe for a while longer. It would be all the sweeter when he ripped that feeling of safety away, just as they ripped Mother away from him. His brothers. His home.

They would feel his pain. And then they would feel nothing at all.

[honey-dewey]

Our Small Slice of Paradise

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff. 

Four years and one child later, Frankie is a whole new man. He’s a wonderful father, a diligent working man, a kind soul, and a beautiful husband. He’s had his fight and his struggle, and now he has earned his small slice of paradise. 

“Frankie!” You called through the house, directing your yells towards the garage door. “Frankie! It’s dinner time!” 

“Huh?” Frankie poked his head in from the garage, genuinely looking shocked. His daughter was across his chest, dead asleep. “What’s up?” 

You smiled. “It’s dinner. Tell the boys to come inside.” 

Frankie turned red. “How do you know they’re out here?” 

“Because I could hear Benny through the walls.” 

All four boys and Nessa came in, Nessa incredibly upset that she couldn’t sit in Frankie’s lap throughout dinner. 

“Baby,” you grabbed her hands as she flailed in her high chair. “Baby! You can sit on daddy’s lap after dinner. But he has to eat too.” 

Nessa pouted, crossing her arms. “Want daddy!” 

Santiago snorted. “Wonder where she gets that attitude from.” 

“Watch your mouth Pope, or you won’t be invited back.” 

At your threat, Santiago wisely shut his mouth. 

Eventually, Nessa calmed enough for you to serve dinner, earning you praise from everyone at the table. 

“Delicious as always,” Benny said happily, taking a rather large bite. “Damn Fish, you really got a good one.” 

Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, garnering childish groans from the table. “Yeah, I did.” 

Once dinner was over, Nessa loudly insisted upon sitting with Frankie, so you all headed out back, where William set up the fire pit and went to grab a couple beers. 

“So,” Santiago said, gesturing to you and Frankie with his beer bottle. “When is the family expanding again? We have bets, you know!” 

Frankie laughed, gazing at you with loving eyes. “I dunno babe, should we have another baby?” 

“With these boys?” You said, raising your eyebrows and looking at the three boys sitting across from you. “I’ve got my hands full enough. I swear, your friends are like teenagers.” 

“Oh no.” Santiago shook his head. “You know nothing about our lovely Fransisco when he was a teenager.” 

“Oh?” You leaned closer to Santiago. “Explain.” 

Immediately, Santiago launched into a long and hilarious story about how Frankie earned his beloved nickname. Best you could tell between the laughter and the yelling, Frankie had gone on a road trip with Santiago before they’d joined the military, and they’d stopped in Louisiana. They’d gone swimming in a river, and poor Frankie had been bit not once but twice by a catfish.

“Well excuse you, those fuckers hurt!” Frankie argued once Santiago had finished. 

You smiled. “Pope, where did the fish bite him?” 

Santiago grinned a rather telling grin. “The first one got his foot.” 

Benny, who was doubled over with laughter, sat up with wide eyes. “No,” he said dramatically. “You did not get bit in the dick by a catfish.” 

“Have you never heard this story?” William asked, also breathless from laughter. “Pope told it at least twice on our road trip.” 

“I was asleep for most of that.” 

You leaned back, smiling at the boys. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than best friends. 

“I’m gonna go put Nessa to bed,” Frankie said softly to you once his watch had hit 9. “Is the spare room set up?” 

“Yeah,” you said, setting down your bottle or ginger beer and holding out your arms. “You stay with the boys. I’ll take Nessa.” 

Frankie smiled, kissing you and passing Nessa into your arms. Benny and Santiago wolf whistled, but you ignored them in favor of carrying your daughter to bed. 

Once she was situated and had been properly kissed good-night, you trailed back out to the yard, grabbing s’mores materials on your way. 

“What in the fuck?” You said, standing in the doorway out to the backyard and just watching. Benny and William were wrestling while Frankie and Santiago were making bets, cheering the other two boys on. 

Immediately, Benny sat up, smiling childishly at you. “Hey! Welcome back!” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Get off the ground Benny. And William, I expected better from you!” 

Both boys chorused out apologies, and you nodded. “Thank you. Now, who wants s’mores?” 

Immediately, all four boys leapt upon you, eagerly taking the s’mores materials from you. Frankie dug out the s’mores sticks the pair of you had and you had to stop a joust between Santiago and Benny. 

“Damn!” Santiago said, waving a flaming marshmallow around. “Fucking burnt it.” 

“Oh! Dibs!” William said, reaching out. “I like mine burnt.” 

“You disgust me.” Frankie smooshed his own lightly toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. 

Benny shrugged. “I like mine more toasted than that,” he said, taking chocolate from you. “Pope doesn’t even fucking toast his!” 

“Oh it is on!” 

You sighed, not even bothering to do anything as the boys began to wrestle. Again. Frankie got pulled into the mess when Santiago shoved a warm marshmallow into his back. William, who genuinely tried to stay out of it, was literally pulled into it when Frankie grabbed him and used him as a human shield. 

Leaning back into your chair, you munched on your s’more, watching the boys fight. It was good to see them happy, especially with how much they’d been through. They deserved to be at ease, not worried about some huge looming threat. 

“You’re out of ammo,” you eventually pointed out once the fighting had reached fifteen minutes, nudging the empty marshmallow bag. “And you’re messes.” 

Santiago untangled himself, sitting up and grunting as he rolled Frankie off his legs. “I’m sticky.” 

“You’re all sticky.” You stood, heading towards the hose. “C’mon, let’s get you all cleaned off.” 

It took some finagling, but with the right pressure setting and a good amount of scrubbing with the rough side of a kitchen sponge and some heavy duty dish soap, all four boys were mostly clean. You carried the pile of ruined clothes to the laundry room, hoping you could wash them tomorrow. In the mean time, something else had to be done. 

“Who’s first?” You asked, heading back outside with a small bucket of hair care supplies.

Everyone pointed to Benny except for Benny. He pointed to William, groaning when he realized he had to go first. “Why me?” 

“You’re youngest,” Santiago said, putting another log in the fire pit. 

Benny grumbled, but sat in the chair you stood behind, waiting for the pull of the comb as you attempted to remove the smeared in bits of marshmallow and chocolate. 

You were much gentler than he expected, using some old tricks and a warm washcloth to get the smaller chunks. The bigger ones needed more convincing, and you did have to cut a particularly stubborn chunk out, but it was a mostly smooth operation. 

After Benny, it was William, who had less in his hair that needed to be slowly massaged out. 

The brothers nodded to you once William was done, trailing into the house and to the guest room. 

Santiago needed more time than Benny, softly chatting to Frankie as you worked on his hair, eventually seeming him clean once his shoulders were damp from the warm washcloth and small marshmallow coated snippets of his hair littered the ground. 

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching. “I’ll leave you two crazy kids out here alone. Do not fuck each other, please. The walls are thin and I do not need to hear my best friend and his wife going at it in the backyard.” 

You gave him a good night, and Frankie gave him a middle finger as Santiago headed inside to pass out on the couch, as he usually did when he spent the night. 

“Come here mister,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. “You’re a hot fucking mess.” 

Frankie smiled as he sat down, relaxing under your careful hands. “Mhm. You love me anyway.” 

“Not like this,” you said, tugging at one of the marshmallow chunks caked into his hair. “I dunno how much I can save Frankie.” 

“That’s fine,” Frankie promised. “I’m overdue anyway.” 

You smiled, spinning the kitchen scissors on your index finger. “Yeah, you kinda are.” 

By the time Frankie was free of the marshmallow and the chocolate, it was nearing 11, and Frankie was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. 

“Done,” you said softly, ruffling through his hair and dusting off his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.” 

Frankie followed after you sleepily, watching through half lidded eyes as you put the kitchen scissors back in their drawer, tossed the dirty washcloth in the laundry, and pushed open your bedroom door. 

“I love you,” Frankie said abruptly, shocking you out of your rhythmic actions. You’d been in the process of getting dressed for bed, your day shirt on the floor and your sleep pants halfway pulled up. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” Frankie repeated, and there was so much sincerity in his voice that you almost cried. 

“Frankie.” You walked over to him, still shirtless. “Babe, you’re exhausted.” 

Frankie nodded, letting you take his shirt off. “Yeah, but I still love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and holding you close to him. 

You smiled, trailing your arms over his neck, threading your hands through his newly trimmed hair as he bowed his head to your shoulder. “I love you too Francisco.”

The pair of you stayed like that, holding each other in the moonlight, half naked, until Frankie untangled himself from your arms and tugged you gently to the bed. You fell beside him, rolled into your side so you were facing him. 

“Hello handsome,” you said with a grin, kissing Frankie’s nose. “Wanna get married?” 

Frankie smiled, poking your cheeks one at a time and causing you to giggle. “I dunno, I got this wife at home, and I think she’s a real keeper.” 

You curled closer to Frankie’s chest, reveling in the warmth he provided. “Well damn. Why don’t you kiss her for me?” Your voice grew softer with each word as the night’s antics caught up to you. 

Frankie kissed the top of your head, feeling your breaths even out as you fell asleep. “I love you,” he whispered one more time, feeling his own eyes close as he too slipped away into the peace of sleep beside you.