#sarcastic and bitter and absolutely about to get the shit beat out of them

[whump-in-the-closet]

Whump Prompt

cw: implied mouth whump, interrogation whump, defiant whumpee, demeaning language, knives, manhandling

“If you weren’t so stupid, this would be over by now.” Whumper turned their back on the captive, surveying the blades lines on the table in front of them.

Whumpee pretended they weren’t watching. But their eyes never left the long fingers trailing along the hilts of the knives. Fingers with rings and blood for decoration.

Whumpee shuddered. They tilted their head back to stare at the fluorescent lights. Better than staring at the interrogator.

“If,” they squinted at the ceiling, wishing their throat wasn't so raw, “If this was over, I think I could happily say I won’t miss you.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not.” Whumper had finally settled on a knife. “Should I start with your mouth? I don’t think you’ll be needing it for much longer.” They turned, smiling.

Whumpee closed their mouth with an audible snap, backing themselves further into the corner as Whumper approached, the knife a whirl of metal in their hands.

For once, all urge to be sarcastic left them. And cold horror seeped into their bones, cracking them in a hundred ways.

They crumpled. Silently. Eyes wide.

Their heart in their throat.

The cold walls offered no protection and Whumper easily hauled Whumpee to their feet, shoving their back up against the wall. With their free hand, Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s chin, tilting it towards them.

“I would say this won’t hurt. But,” again that insufferable smile. “It really will.”

[carolmunson]

okay, since some of you asked for it:

unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.

which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.

even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.

also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????

he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!

[earthry]

Could you possibly do hc’s for Secondo with a reader who is very sweet and bubbly and who is in their own band? :)))

Absolutely holy shit yes ✨💕

mostly sfw, suggestive content towards the end but kept vague, fluff and romance, papa emeritus ii x gn!reader

Meeting Secondo

Ghost and your band were both attending an annual music award ceremony— most people were steering clear of Ghost with the ghouls all crowded together and Secondo looking menacing in his full regalia and staff. You, however, were excited to see them! Your band wasn’t too popular, but had been lucky enough to be nominated for a minor category to reckon an invitation. You enjoy their music so you’re happy to meet them.

You introduce yourself with a smile, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you cheerily hold your hand out for a shake. You are the complete opposite of Secondo— bright colors decorated with cute butterfly motifs, cheery laugh lines kissing the corners of your eyes. All the ghouls stop talking, their gazes pinned on you and for a moment, there’s no response from Secondo except for silently regarding you almost analytically.

When there’s no response and several beats pass, you deflate visibly at the lack of response and begin to withdraw your hand. Before you can fully bring your hand back however, Secondo moves to take it in his.

You expect him to shake your hand, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings it up to his lips and presses the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt against the back of your hand. You can feel heat begin to spread across your cheeks, coursing through your veins as you fight yourself not to stutter. His voice is a low purr when he finally speaks.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my rudeness— I simply have not seen such a light shine like you before.”

Becoming Friends, Falling in Love

The two of you go separate ways, your bands touring on what seems like the other side of the world from each other. You give him your number, and your warm glow of enthusiasm and the way your eyes fall into crescents when you are happy are too captivating to resist. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Secondo can’t seem to stop himself from texting you often. He is new to the concept of sending memes and funny videos to each other but he catches on quick. He often catches himself chuckling at his phone when he opens up messages from you and more than once has his ghouls asked him about it.

You are much different from most people he’s met; but most of all is that you were not scared of him and you did not expect anything of him. He was simply Secondo to you. Not Papa Emeritus II, not the man he hates that the Ministry has molded him into. Of course he’s still a sarcastic bitter old man, but you are never deterred. You bounce back twice as eagerly with a smile just as bright and he finds himself weak to it.

It’s a slow burn. Of selfies and landscapes sent back and forth while the two of you travel separate ways. Watching blurry YouTube clips of each other’s concerts, mouthing the words and closing your eyes while you listen, trying to pretend you’re there. Phone calls on speaker as you putter in the green room before a show— sometimes one of you will get ready a little sooner simply so the two of you could chat and apply makeup together at the same time. It felt like closeness, like a pact or a secret place only you two knew. Your band mates and Secondo’s ghouls learned not to bug the two of you during these little makeup dates (though the two of you would also deny it as a dates) unless it was an emergency.

Before every one of his shows, you always send Secondo a text message right before the ritual starts, wishing him luck and to be safe. You tell him you are cheering for him and you wish you could be there. You send an impressive amount of emojis and all he sends back is a thumbs up emoji but you know he’s over the moon, you know he doesn’t feel quite settled or ready enough until you send that message and so you never forget to.

Reunion

You fall back in orbit at the next music awards ceremony, and suddenly you’re back in the same spot you were only a year ago. This time, you don’t have to introduce yourself but Secondo takes your hand and brings it to his lips again all the same.

“Tesoro mio, it’s been a while, si?”

You don’t kiss until you are in the privacy of his hotel room, his hands around your wrists pinning them above your head as he hungrily devours your lips. They are exactly as he’d thought they’d taste and sweeter.

Perhaps this is also the first time Secondo is met with smiles and giggles in the bedroom as you undress and let him take you. He finds that you are easily ticklish and that the petals of laughter coaxed from you are beginning to become his favorite sound.

[kurokoros]

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.” 

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?” 

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty. 

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all. 

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation. 

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!” 

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers. 

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation. 

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass. 

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow. 

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still. 

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head. 

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you. 

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes. 

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.” 

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” 

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

[b0rista]

i keep seeing dad!levi on the tl and i cant stop thinking abt him as a dad😩 can i request drabble/hc/fic of levi and his s/o adopting gabi and falco🥰 no thoughts. just dad!levi brainrot go brrrrt

— ADOPTIVE FATHER! LEVI HEADCANONS + FALCO & GABI. ♡︎

AUTHOR'S NOTES: gn! reader.

never would you have ever expected to take in a pair of children as your own. better yet, never would you have ever expected him to. while you knew his soft side all too well, everyone has their limits.

gabi and falco moving in with you and levi likely just,, happened. a temporary housing for them, considering they had nowhere else to go. seeing as though imprisonment for a second time was a bit of a reach, it was a minor debate within headquarters regarding what to do with the two. through careful consideration, your lover made a decision.

what better way to supervise them than in our own home?

of course, the thought conflicted you. the enemy, living with you? sure, they were barely teenagers, but that didn't make them any less capable of murdering you in your slumber.

knowing levi, though, that would never be the case. the man was already the world’s most calculating insomniac, lord knows he’d never let either of those kids out of his sight. especially not around you. 

nevertheless, your guys’ experience living with the remaining warriors of marley would be far more different than either of you would ever think to realize. 

ACTUAL HEADCANONS BELOW: ⇩︎

to your surpise, falco’s quite literally the sweetest pre-teen to ever roam the earth. of course, you’d only assumed it was all an act. that was,, until you genuinely caught him attempting to befriend levi's horse one morning. he was outside holding a fistful of grass, holding it out to the thing as if it were some sort of a beast. eventually, you joined him, and you showed him just how to handle it. and while the boy seemed skeptical at first, you saw that glimmer in his eyes the moment the horse allowed him to pet its mane. from the window, levi only watched.

speaking of levi's horse, that thing absolutely despises gabi. you're not quite sure why, but it does. you've literally had to run out and claw her hair out from between its teeth before— she's scReaminG, you'Re screaming, even the horse is screaming.

"why does this keep happening to me?!"

"this has happened befoRe?"

whenever either of the two children curse, levi's quick to correct them. despite having quite the foul mouth himself, he doesn't hesitate whenever he has to toss out a blunt "language."

^ at first, they were bitter. with time, though, they stopped swearing.

a key moment in time that helped develop you and falco's relationship was one afternoon where he was helping you out with yard work. somehow, his little crush on gabi came up, and the two of you got to talking about it. after giving him some genuine, appropriate advice for a kid with a crush, he really did start looking at you differently.

as for levi and gabi, those two bonded over intense, hilarious training. he found her punching the air in his backyard, and decided to drop in with a few sarcastic pointers. somehow, it ended in him kicking the poor girl around like a rag doll— not violently, he never hurt her. instead, he fended off each and every attack she fired at him, leaving her absolutely exhausted. she was tired out, and he was perfectly fine. imagine gabi, laying on the ground, tired as shiT, and levi, gently nudging the toe of his boot into her side:

"you can fight, but you're messy. if you ever stand a chance at surviving this war you started, i suggest you clean up your act."

cue gabi, glaring.

"if you care so much, then help me become better."

and so he did 🥺🥺 the two bond over levi practically coaching her, and as the days merge into weeks, she grows to actually respect levi, and maybe even look up to him.

basically, while you and falco live your cottagecore lives and bond over horses and apple picking, levi and gabi beat the everliving shit out of eachother in the backyard. it's a great balance.

for the first couple of nights, eating at the dinner table with those two was disgustingly awkward. it was utter silence, nothing more. however, one night, falco dropped his fork, and when he bent down to get it, he looked underneath the table for a milliseconD— there levi was, leaned down, stArinG at him. it was both hilarious and terrifying altogether, and falco ended up screeching and knocking his head into the table, hard.

"I WAS GETTING A F O R K-"

"and? gRemlin."

it surprised all of you, hearing gabi laugh. a genuine, real laugh. eventually, that turned into a conversation. and after that, you had conversations during every dinner. the development process was cruel, but worth it.

the kids help you prepare breakfast in the morning while levi downs his fourth cup of tea at the table, and it's always cute. because of you, falco knows how to make scrambled eggs! and also because of you, gabi knows how to prank somebody using an uncooked noodle. literally, she just places a piece of it between her teeth, pretend to crack her nose, and crunch. she made falco scReAm, and levi just looked at you like 🤨 bitch, tf are u teaching her

now, this was around three months into supervising them. one night, they were sitting alongside you on the sofa, and you were reading them a story. while falco was into it, gabi thought it was silly— still, though, she listened. eventually, they passed the hell out on either side of you. you drifted off, as well. when you woke up, you'd woken up to levi, his head rested onto your lap while his knees prop him up from the floor. by the looks of it, he wanted to be included.

whenever either of them step out of line, they earn a swift flick to the forehead from levi. it's a daily thing. gabi says something stupid, flick. falco slacks off during chores, flick. one time, gabi tried flicking him back, and it just started a flick war. you were done with all three of them.

both gabi and falco love telling you about marley's technology. you'd never heard of such things, and to know that they exist? shit, the look on your face is priceless. they absolutely adore getting a reaction out of you, and they often butt heads over who gets to tell you what. when they do, cue the overly aggressive forehead flicks from levi.

while levi told you not to, you couldn't help yourself. you showed them just how cool it is to use ODM gear. of course, they lost their shit, because holy hell that looks fun. your boyfriend, of course, caught you swinging from tree to tree while the two children gawked at you, and he gave you a stern talking to. before he did, though, that motherfucker joined you in the trees. again, the kids lost it.

"loOKATTHEMFALCOLOOKLOOK-"

"i'MloOokinG-"

eventually, they just think you guys are the coolest people they've ever come across. which stirs up one heLL of an identity crisis for gabi, because,, lol aren't y'all devils or sum?

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART VIII - Sorry everyone, this part is a little short and a little boring lol. It’s just some more Lucien and Eris stuff. Thanks to everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

its not boring!!! i love them!!!

Prince of Ashes. Part VIII.

masterlist.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Eris heard Maddox say. Even though Maddox sounded angry, he almost rarely was, but the permanent scowl that always graced his features made him look the part as well.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Lucien echoed, more high-pitched and sort of nasally.

Eris heard Lucien yelp as he walked to the large, open space they all used for training. Lucien was in the middle of the fighting ring, a sword hanging loosely from his one hand as he used the other to rub his forehead. “What the hells was that for?”

Maddox smiled, barely a flash of his white teeth, “It slipped.”

“Not a very good teacher, are you, Maddox?” Eris looked to the apple core that was still sort of rolling away from Lucien.

Maddox shrugged from where he was leaning up against the raised training ring, “Can’t be good at everything.”

“Eris,” Lucien looked at his eldest brother, his forehead red from all the rubbing or red because Maddox had put a little too much strength into throwing that apple core at him, “Tell him to stop throwing fruit at me.” He said it in a way that made Eris think that Maddox did it quite often.

Maddox merely rolled his brown eyes, “Eris, tell him to pay attention to his lessons so father doesn’t beat him for being useless.”

Eris sighed, “Lucien, listen to Maddox and pay more attention to your tutors.” Lucien sputtered, probably trying to find something sarcastic to say, but Eris raised a hand, “And Maddox.” Maddox raised his brows, still not scowling, just waiting for Eris to scold him. Eris wasn’t very good at scolding, Maddox so he just settled for, “Don’t throw fruit at Lucien.”

“He’s lucky we don’t live in the Day Court,” Maddox grumbled, “I’d be throwing watermelons at him instead.” Eris would have laughed if he were in a better mood. He’d spent the better half of the morning with Cato, torturing some criminal his father insisted was causing upheaval among the lesser faeries of Autumn, and he was feeling like absolute shit.

Lucien frowned when he looked at Eris, his brows furrowing in concern. “You alright, Eris?”

Eris couldn’t help but wonder what Lucien had seen on his face to warrant that question, “I’m fine,” he lied. Even to his own ears, that sounded a little flat and emotionless.

“Didn’t know you’d be coming over today.” The words were a little bitter coming from Maddox. Eris understood why, no one really bothered telling the younger brothers what was going on in The Forest House.

Being the middle child, Maddox never really listened to their father and never really fought to be High Lord, but he still liked knowing what was happening. Eris guessed that perhaps he was annoyed at Owain a little as well. Owain and Maddox were close, Owain leading the Royal Guard and Maddox having been at his side as soon as he was able. Eris supposed he would have been bitter, too, if no one was telling him anything important.

“Father had some things for me to do,” Eris replied, deciding that he wasn’t going to give Maddox any details of what he’d been doing with Lucien around. Maddox’s eyes flicked down to Eris’s hands before he turned away from him to look at Lucien again. Eris hoped there was no blood left under his fingernails. He felt as though he’d washed his hands a hundred times, but the smell still hadn’t gone away entirely.

“Better for us,” Lucien said with a smile, “It’s been a millennia since I’ve seen you.” In truth, it had been almost a year since Eris had last seen Lucien.

“Well,” Maddox said, pushing himself away from the ring, “If you’re staying, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Eris asked, more from curiosity than concern. Maddox could take care of himself.

“To find Owain, and if I can’t find him, I’ll go to Priam.” He flashed Eris a lupine grin, “Try to teach the little runt a thing or two, great eldest brother, perhaps he’ll be able to learn something from the best of us.” Before Eris could respond, Maddox had winnowed from the training area, the smell of roasting chestnuts left in his wake. Eris frowned, he wasn’t particularly happy about being mocked.

Maddox and Eris weren’t necessarily close, but Maddox was too young to ever really fight his way to the throne. If he’d managed to kill Owain and Cato, killing Eris might have proven very difficult. Little did Maddox know that Eris wouldn’t have lifted a finger against him. Eris didn’t know if he could live the rest of his life knowing that he’d caused his mother the grief of losing a child.

If his father knew how easily he’d give up if one of his brothers truly wanted him dead, Beron might have killed Eris himself.

“I challenge you, Eris Vanserra,” Lucien said in a loud, clear voice from his place in the training ring. - Eris shook his head, not feeling up to it. “Lucien, I’m not really in the—”

“Come on, Eris, humour me,” he grabbed a second sword from the rack on the other side of the ring. “I’m challenging you.”

Eris sighed, taking off his very expensive jacket and throwing it on the floor. It would probably wrinkle, but he didn’t want to risk it getting ripped. Lifting himself into the ring, Eris muttered, “Fine, I accept your challenge, Lucien Vanserra.” He was feeling a little horrible for having avoided Lucien for so long.

After Eris had rolled up his shirtsleeves and tied his hair back, Lucien handed him the sword, “I’m sure I’ll be able to beat you this time, I’ve gotten a million times better.”

The smile on his face was a little contagious. Eris took the sword, raising an auburn brow, “Have you now?”

“And I’m sure you’ve gotten rusty, spending all that time behind a desk,” Lucien flashed him a wide smile, “You know, doing father’s paperwork.”

Eris huffed a small laugh, if only Lucien knew what Eris had been doing for Beron lately. Eris tossed his sword from one hand to the other, “You shouldn’t underestimate your opponents.”

Lucien hummed his response before getting into the ring and raising his sword so that the tip was pointing at Eris, “Prepare to lose, brother.” He'd gotten quite tall, Eris noticed, probably as tall as Rufus.

Eris shook his head, kicking Maddox’s apple core off the ring, “I hope you know, fox, that I won’t be holding back.”

“Neither will I.”

Before Eris could get into his fighting stance, Lucien had lunged at him, a blur of red hair and brown fighting leathers. Eris lifted his sword, meeting the blow that had been aiming for his legs. He cocked his head to the side, raising an auburn brow, “Is that the best you could do?”

Lucien shook his head, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Eris.” He drew back his weapon and rushed at Eris once more, his attack deliberate and from many angles.

Lucien’s footwork seemed just fine, Eris noticed, and had to wonder whether Lucien was just being a bit of a nuisance to get a reaction out of Maddox that wasn’t a scowl. Given that Maddox had been ordered to make Lucien’s life miserable, Maddox had taken to just sort of bothering their youngest brother. The same couldn’t be said for the others, but Lucien had assured him more than once that he was fine.

Eris was actually quite impressed with how well Lucien was fighting. He’d been handling a sword for years, starting with a real weapon as the rest of his brothers had, but Eris still saw him as small and clumsy.

They went back and forth for some time, and when Eris tired of it, he disarmed Lucien efficiently. His sword clattering to the ground on the other side of the ring, Lucien raised his hands in defeat.

Eris grinned, “You should be less confident, fox, arrogance does not become you.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, “You think it becomes you?”

“Yes, yes I think it does,” Eris was still smiling, “You accept defeat, Lucien Vanserra?”

Lucien returned the smile, but there was mischief blazing in his russett eyes, “Never.”

Eris frowned, “What do you mean—”

Eris gasped as he felt someone grab the back of his shirt and pull. Before he realized what was going on, Lucien kicked out his foot and knocked the sword from Eris’s hand. Eris fell on his ass with an inelegant “oof” as the person behind him pulled down on his collar.

“I have a feeling arrogance is not becoming on anyone,” drawled Rufus from behind him, pressing a small knife to Eris’s neck.

Eris definitely should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. “Fucking cheaters,” Eris mumbled.

Lucien stood over him, grin wide, “You accept defeat, Eris Vanserra?”

Eris threw his hands up, palms out. “Yes, fine, I accept, you win.”

Lucien laughed, dropping down to sit next to Eris. He had just turned sixteen and he was still growing into his bones. Much too gangly and tall to be useful at much else other than one-on-one combat.

Eris was glad, Owain, who had been big and muscular for most of his life, had been sent to a war camp at seventeen. Rufus dropped down on Eris’s other side, his shoulder-length red hair tucked behind his pointed ears. All of the small hoop earrings going up the arch of his ear glittered in the light of the training ring. “You’re becoming cocky in your old age, brother, I think me and fox have taught you an important lesson.”

Eris snorted, “What was the lesson, exactly?”

Lucien looked at Rufus, “Yes, Rufus, what was the lesson?”

Rufus made a face, “Not sure yet, but there’s bound to be something he’s learned.” Lucien laughed, Rufus laughing with him after a moment, and even Eris smiled. Rufus knocked Eris’s shoulder with his own, “Did Widge show you what he’s been working on?”

Eris nodded. Widge had come to him earlier that week, running into the sitting room of Eris’s cottage, his copper hair a mess and ink stains on his face. The last time Eris had seen him like that, he had discovered a way to get fire to stay aflame on water. He’d had a mad sort of sparkle in his eye as he’d thrown a large scroll onto Eris’s lap, shoving Micah aside as he sat down between him and Eris to show them what he’d done. “He’s brilliant.”

“What did he do?” Lucien asked.

Eris turned to face him, “Found a way to make a shield out of flames that might protect an entire legion. Only problem is, he’s made all his calculations using our magic,” he waved a hand at Rufus.

“Which means that he’s got to convince three Vanserras to test his theory, or convince 30 soldiers with average magical abilities instead, I suppose.”

“I could try,” Lucien offered.

He could, but Eris wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what would happen if Lucien tested the limits of his magic. And he also wasn’t as strong enough as the rest of them when it came to his flames. Eris wasn’t entirely certain that asking Lady Morai to suppress Lucien’s magic hadn’t affected the flames he’d gotten from their mother as well.

“We’ll see,” Eris mumbled.

“That means no,” Rufus said, reaching past Eris to ruffle Lucien’s hair.

Lucien swatted away his arm, “I’m challenging you, Rufus Vanserra.”

Rufus sighed, but stood up. “Not this again, you never win.”

As Eris watched Lucien and Rufus, he decided that he had learned something. He’d learned that Beron was a fool for trying to pit them against each other when clearly they could have been a force all of Prythian would have feared had he pushed them closer together.

[the-galaxy-collector]

heart/beats

Pairing: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning(s): fluff, sick stiles, derek hale is bad at feelings

Summary: Stiles gets sick while the gang is away. Derek comes back to check on him. 

A/N: I think as is becoming common for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, this just poured out of me with no prior warning and I regret nothing. 

Stiles stood up, or he tried, before his body forced him to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He’d been trying to work up both the strength and the courage to take a shower for the past thirty minutes, but he was still here. In the exact same position. Trying not to puke all over his pajamas. 

A very attractive look, if he did say so himself. 

He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been sick for the last two days and whatever the hell this shit was, it didn't seem to be going anywhere. 

Everyone was gone too, which made it worse. They were off saving the world from… something. He couldn’t remember now. Something way more important than Stiles, though. And he wasn’t bitter about it. He knew what they were doing was a big deal. It was just that right now he wanted chicken soup like his mom used to make and someone to tuck him back into bed. 

After a shower, he reminded himself. The shower was still a must. 

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself up with shaky limbs. He held out his arms, forcing himself to remain balanced and upright, as he started to walk forward gingerly. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

He yelped as his eyes popped back open at the noise. He didn’t know he wasn’t alone, and his heart was racing uncomfortably as he clutched his chest now over it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He gulped. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here?”

“You’re sick,” Derek explained bluntly. 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Stiles bit back. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not. We need to go to the hospital, Stiles.”

“We need to go to the hospital, Stiles,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You sound like that, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Derek. You guys are off, ya know, saving the world or whatever. And I’ll be fine. Just go help them.”

“They don’t need my help.”

“And neither do I,” Stiles insisted. 

“Why are you like this?” he said, a smile in his voice. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “Really?”

When he went to roll his eyes at Derek’s stubborn nature, like he’d done a million and a half times, his head pulsed suddenly with a headache so severe it caused him to fall to his knees. Derek was by his side within seconds, his hands on either side of his face as he forced Stiles to look at him. 

He pulled back his eyelids one at a time, and whatever he saw there made him hoist Stiles off the floor without a word, and carry him from the room. Stiles wanted to put up a fight, tell Derek to put him down, that he was going to be fine. It was just the flu or something non-lethal to teenagers, but pressed up against Derek’s chest like this was warm and comfortable and he found it very difficult to hold other thoughts in his brain right now. 

Derek took him straight outside and propped him up in the front seat of his own car before buckling him in and rushing around to the driver’s side. He knew how much Derek hated the Jeep, which meant that he either was doing it for Stiles’ sake or because he had run all the way here without his own car because it wasn’t fast enough. Stiles wasn’t sure which one was sweeter. 

“Stiles, I swear to God,” Derek growled, “if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles snorted his laughter despite the pounding in his head, currently radiating out from behind his left eye. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Derek asked softly. 

Too softly. Like he was actually worried. Which stressed out Stiles more than he thought it would. Or should. 

Stiles shrugged his answer, and even that tiny movement sent a jolt of pain down his spine. But he wasn’t lying. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had put food in his mouth last, which was probably not great. 

Derek growled again, and while it was affecting Stiles like it always did, the dull ache covering his entire body pushed any stupid, horny thoughts out of his brain. 

At least for now. 

He knew they’d be back, especially if Derek was going to stick around. Stiles sort of hated that. Especially since Derek could tell. Hiding things from werewolves, as he’d learned, was not possible. It wasn’t awkward at all. 

Yep, he definitely hated that. 

Derek continued to slam his foot and the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard as he drove, but it didn’t do any good. It never did. The Jeep was ancient, one of the things Stiles loved about it, and it wasn’t ever going to go faster than this. But Derek was wonderfully impatient, often with Stiles, or things that involved  Stiles. 

Another endearing quality that would normally make his heart all aflutter. But right now, he was in too much pain. 

The sunlight streaming in was making his head hurt worse, though, so he laid it down on the console in between him and Derek and tried not to focus on the fact that the traditionally very grumpy man was rubbing Stiles’ leg absentmindedly as he made his way through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Derek had never been one to touch anyone for any reason, so clearly Stiles was dying. Or Derek thought he was. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he might be doing that, but again, he had no strength left to even ask.

Stiles didn’t think he was ready for the answer. Or, more appropriately, he knew he wasn’t ready for the brush off. 

Stiles half expected Derek to pull straight into the emergency room bay where only the ambulances are supposed to go with the way he was acting, but he found a normal spot. And just like when they got into the car, he rushed around and helped Stiles out. Like being away from Stiles for even the shortest amount of time was too much for Derek to handle. Yeah, Stiles was dying and Derek felt bad for him. There were no other explanations.

He even tried to carry him bridal style again, but Stiles managed to put his foot down. 

Well, not literally. But he made it clear that wasn’t happening in front of all these people. 

He had some dignity left.

The harsh fluorescents assaulted his eyes worse than the sunlight, and he found, once again, that he needed to slam his eyes shut to keep from hurling all over himself. And Derek. 

“Oh my God,” Melissa asked from somewhere nearby. “What happened?”

“Well, my idiot has been sick for the last two days and he didn’t call anyone and now I’m afraid he’s dehydrated and about to pass out.”

Melissa giggled at Derek’s assessment as she ushered them back to what Stiles was sure was a room, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that Derek had said my idiot. My idiot. Like Stiles belonged to him. 

Not that Stiles would complain if that were true. 

Derek put him down on the bed as soon as the door shut behind them and dimmed the lights, allowing Stiles to open his eyes again. Melissa was already rushing around getting things set up as Derek forced him to lay down. He hadn’t even stopped to put shoes on, so when he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin, he couldn’t really protest. 

Too much anyway. 

“Derek, stop,” he said, pushing his hands away. “I’m not an invalid.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair, pulling it up as close to the side of Stiles’ bed as he could get without actually being in the bed. 

“All right, Stiles. You ready?”

He nodded as he felt the coolness from an alcohol prep pad next and then hissed loudly as the IV slid into his arm. No matter how many times he’d been forced to do this, it didn’t get easier. And it should be by now, he reasoned, since hanging out with werewolves had some disadvantages. Not many, but some. If you were unlucky enough to be the only human anyway. 

Stiles didn’t miss the way that Derek flinched a little at his pain, though, causing his eyebrows to pull in the middle. He was getting more confused, and more concerned, by the second. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Honey, I’m gonna take some blood, give you some fluids, and bring some food. Do you think you can eat?”

Stiles shrugged again, swallowing hard as his mouth filled with saliva. The thought of eating anything made his stomach do a flip, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but he could try. He certainly knew he should try. 

“I can give you something to help you sleep, if you wanna do that instead, but we’re gonna have to wake you up in, like, an hour to try to get something in your stomach. Or I’m gonna have to feed you some Ensure.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Like they give old people?”

Melissa nodded. “No. Just knock me out and then wake me up later. I promise I’ll try. But do not give me that shi… stuff.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, cussing in front of Melissa always felt wrong somehow. She just laughed quietly, though, and shook her head as she finished hooking him up to everything, forcing Derek to move only when it was absolutely necessary. 

A couple minutes after she pushed something directly into his line, he started to feel sleepy. Like actually sleepy. Not this fitful mess he’d been enjoying for over 48 hours. 

And he let his eyes close without a word. 

He couldn’t be sure if it had been a few minutes or hours, but when he started to wake back up, he heard Derek’s soft voice beside him. He sounded like he might be talking to someone, but since Stiles’ eyelids were still way too heavy to open, he just listened. 

As the grogginess slowly lifted, he noticed Derek was holding his hand. Actually holding his hand. In both of his. His head and, more importantly, his lips were resting next to Stiles’ skin. He could feel Derek’s breath.  

Wait, am I dead? 

“Does he know yet?” Melissa whispered. 

“No,” Derek said, just as quiet. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I came back to do that and he was about to pass out. I got distracted,” he explained, exasperation taking over momentarily. “But I guess I knew something was wrong.” 

“Of course you did,” Melissa insisted. “He’s your mate.” 

Mate?! 

Okay, Stiles was definitely dead. Or dreaming. Hopefully dreaming. At least that way he could still wake up. 

Melissa didn’t wait for Derek to respond before she asked another question. “Talk to Noah yet?” 

“Yeah.”

Once again, Derek lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t long before Melissa got irritated with his lack of information on the topic. 

“And?” she huffed.

“He told me he’d kill me if I hurt him.”

She laughed again, still as softly as before. Stiles could hear her walk back to the door, enjoying her little private joke.

“Well, you’re safe,” she said, pausing at the threshold. “We both know you’re not capable of that.”

“Mhmm,” he answered. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, moving his head to the side.

And suddenly Stiles had a new thing he hated now. The way Derek sounded asking that one question. It was vulnerable, like Derek’s entire nervous system was on the outside. All exposed and raw. He wanted very much to get out of this bed and protect him, but that didn’t make any sense. Derek didn’t need to be protected. It was Derek. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Melissa declared. 

And then she left him with that, allowing the door to close behind her without waiting for him to argue. 

After a few seconds, Derek cleared his throat. “How, uh, much of that did you hear?”

Stiles forced himself to remain as still and quiet as possible, not even allowing his breathing to pick up. He would give Derek an out. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. It was his go-to response, sure, but it also seemed to fit the occasion. 

“Mate, huh?” 

Derek groaned loudly and Stiles opened his eyes slowly. “When did you plan on telling me, Sourwolf?”

[come join all the Teen Wolf fandom shenanigans over at the Beacon Hills Preserve Discord Server]

[kelpiemomma]

wild west train gang crew all ages are AU start

Ingo: Older twin (mid 20s). Loud as FUCK. Typically regarded as the actual boss. Generally more level-headed. Not much goes on expression wise on his face, you gotta pay close attention to his eyes, mouth tension, and body language. Was reluctant to bring Dawn (Akari) back at first because of the risk she stood for. Sharpshooter and, surprisingly, can provide a lot of manpower. Deceptively skinny frame.

Emmet: Younger twin (mid 20s). Not as loud but still loud. more facial expressions and a HELLOFALOT of body language. Typically regarded as second-boss. Tends to make snap decisions (like bringing this child who tried to rob their train back to the ranch with them). A really good strategist when he gets down to it. Good with trick shots and, of all things, a sword. Nobody knows where he got it. Not even Ingo.

Akari (aka Dawn): Youngest of the crew (roughly 10). Tried to rob a train Ingo and Emmet were stationed on out of desperation, got shot, and then got adopted. Not super loud but easily the most determined out of everyone. She would chew off her own ankle to make it home if she had to. Slow to warm up to people but once they prove themselves worthy she’s very much a fan of hanging all over them. When she was still small enough to she would hang off Ramses and Cloud’s arms like monkey bars. Works the ponies at the ranch, still doesn’t know the crew’s side job.

Ramses: Oldest of the crew (early-mid 50s). Level-headed but often a little nervous. He rarely participates in the actual robbing portion of robbing the trains, acting as lookout instead. Absolute mother hen, even though he’s literally wrestled a grizzly once and has the scars to prove it. Helped raised the twins and was one of their first, if not THE first, member of their hijacking crew. Mechanic/engineer when he works on the trains, all-around farmhand on the ranch. Heavy jobs go to Ramses. He’s a second deadshot to Ingo and is the one who taught the twins how to shoot.

Cloud: Second oldest of the crew (early 50s) and the enforcer. Pretty no-nonsense, except when she’s not, but her jokes are so dry they tend to pass over most everyone’s heads. Good at hand-to-hand combat and generally an outrider when the crew needs to make a getaway (should a posse actually get to them). Has killed before, will kill again. Good friends with Ramses and helps to offer him stability when he gets overly nervous about things. Blunt woman, but sweet in her own way. Largely in charge of overseeing the ranch’s genuine business ledgers and management.

Jackie: Age unknown, presumed anywhere from late teens to early thirties. Showed up on the ranch one day claiming to have always been there. They’re a little odd and often a little bitter and biting, but they come in in clutch. 24/7 sarcastically referring to Ingo and Emmet as ‘Boss’ until shit gets serious. Bullied Akari a bit when she first arrived until she got tired of it, chased them down, and did her best to beat the shit out of them. Being tiny it was very much a failure but it amused Jackie enough they quit giving her shit. The trouble they got in from the twins also helped. Still likes to tease Akari, but she has bit them before and will do it again so they’re not as bad about it as they were before.

Isodore: Late 20s. Loves maps. Knows the ins and outs of the surrounding areas like nobody’s business. Charming when he wants to be but can also be an incredible bitch. Has weaseled his way out of jail several times, and each time gave them a fake name. Somehow they’ve never gotten his image correct in the wanted posters. Grows a mustache really well but gets annoyed by the upkeep. Surprisingly, also a mechanic when it comes to the train work. Loves to get dirty and greasy. In charge of the majority of feeding and cleaning up after the ranch animals.

Cameron: Late teens early 20s. Soft-hearted, very kind. The first friend Akari made at the ranch. They joined the gang out of desperation but don’t participate in the actual robbing portion of events. They don’t have the heart. Not the best at keeping secrets unless it’s important. If pressed they will go into their entire life story, starting from the first memory they have. Think Chunk from the Goonies and you’ll have Cameron’s personality. They only ride the old, steady-eddy horses when the crew goes out to help work someone else’s ranch. Despite being part of them for years, Cameron’s not a very advanced rider. Typically in charge of the small animals on the ranch- the little herd of goats and flock of chickens. They also take care of the cows and have named their three milk cows.

Furze: mid to late teens. Way enthusiastic about trains, almost as enthusiastic about horses. Gets a little too excited when he gets to join in on the robbing portion of events and has accidentally shot a couple people so he’s regularly on time-out from robbery. Nobody’s died yet, at least! Akari’s second friend on the ranch because he would follow her around to spout off facts about horses and trains and anything else that came to mind. He was unavoidable. The most common prank to play on Furze is to grab something nearby and shove it in his mouth which has led to some truly horrifying pranks. Dirty socks, straw, and once- horse manure. He’s learned to stop talking so much when he sees someone reaching out, just in case, but as soon as that hand’s back in his mouth is going off. Not a great shot. Not often allowed to carry a gun.

Elesa: She’s not a constant member of the gang anymore but she was one of the founding members. She helps provide gossip and information on what will and won’t be coming through, as well as letting the crew know about the movements of sheriffs posses and the like. Is quietly crushing on the town’s own sheriff, Cyllene. Ingo and Emmet frequently tease her about it. Akari once gets herself in trouble while Elesa’s in town so she has a reason to start up a conversation with Cyllene- that Elesa fumbles, so Akari starts it and then forcibly includes Elesa. Pretty good with a handgun but not with long distance shots.

[drethanramslay]

Hi!! Can you please do No. 14 and 49 from the prompt list for Ethan X MC? Thank you so much I love all of your fics ❤️❤️

Thanks for the ask anon and @squishywizardhq

You can find the prompt list here.

#14- "Are you okay?" (I wrote Bryce x mc on this prompt which you can find here)

#49- "Are you bleeding?"

#97- "Stop being so stubborn!"

I decided to merge both the prompts because it's seemed most logical and fit into the scenario perfectly hehehe

Word count: 2K words (yep that's pretty long compared to the usual requests so buckle up)

Warning: none

Author's note: I was gonna post this later but people were getting antsy so I decided to post this first so enjoy

forgive me for any mistakes

And trust me <3

Stay for Me

Leah stepped out of the subway on to the platform and started walking towards the familiar apartment complex where she had spent most of her time in Ethan's absence.

During the entire walk, her brain was racing and her heart beat had spiked up due to the anticipation and anxiety.

It's the most logical option Leah. It's okay, don't be scared. Feelings are fleeting. You will get over him eventually. Her conscience tried to comfort her, but it was of no help whatsoever.

She entered the lift and pressed the button which would take her to his apartment. Though the ride was short, her palms felt sweaty and her throat was parched.

She stepped out and knocked on the door and waited for him to open it as she wiped her palms on her tights.

He opened the door, and Leah looked up to meet his eyes.

"Leah?"

"I'm an absolute idiot. I'm so sorry." She rambled.

"What? First of all come in." Concern was etched in his beautiful eyes as he opened the door wider so that she could enter.

"I have made my decision."

He winced, bracing himself. "You are gonna stay with him, right?"

"What? No!" She grasped his hands in her and looked up at him.

"it's you Bryce... It's always been you."

There was pin drop silence. Leah's heart thundered as the silence continued to stretch between them.

"Bryce, what aren't you saying anything?" Leah's voice cracked which seemed to shake him out of his reverie.

"Leah... No matter how much that makes me happy... No."

"No?! What no?"

He sat on the sofa while Leah continued standing, her eyes following every step. "Come sit down. We are due for a chat."

She sat down on the seat next to him and turned towards him, completely bewildered. "No? But.. but I don't understand this?"

She started counting the pros on her fingers. "We are literally perfect for each other. You are the number one surgeon of your batch. I'm the number one diagnostician of my batch. We both like the same things and music. I like you... You like me.. so why not?"

Bryce chuckled and shook his head as he played with his fingers. "Leah we only look good on paper."

"Bu-"

"Leah what you described is external factors which can fluctuate with time. We literally are carbon copies of each other."

"So what's wrong with that? Isn't it better that way?"

"Leah, over time all these factors will cancel out each other and we would just be a boring couple who is a shadow of one another. This 'feelings' we have now will change into bitterness, sadness and distance. And I don't want that."

His eyes landed on hers and he gave a small smile. "The perfect relationship is when you complement one another. Like fire and water. Like Ying and Yang. And I have see that between you and Ethan."

Leah looked down, her throat choking up with emotions.

"But... I decided to go with my logic and this is the right option. No hurt, no pain-"

"-No love, No happiness. Leah, love is not a application of logic. It's what you feel. It want the heart wants." Bryce finished the statement and sighed.

"You may have never spoken about it but anyone can see how head over heels the both of you are for each other. I have noticed the way his eyes brighten when you entre the room. Or the way your smile illuminates a thousand times more when he calls your name."

"Wait... Everyone noticed it?"

Rolling his eyes, he subtly punched her shoulder lightly. "Everyone knew except the two of you. You both have your head so far up your asses that you didn't even notice a bet was going on around."

"A BET?!"" Leah exclaimed.

"Yap. Hell, 90% of the people put a bet that you would end up with Ramsey. But you chose me. Many people lost a lot of money."

Leah groaned as she face palmed. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be. That's why they say love is blind."

Dragging her hands down her face she turned towards him. "But if you knew I had feelings for Ethan... Why did you still choose to date me?"

A small smile etched on his face. "Like I said love is blind. I chose to stay in denial and swooped in when you were hurting. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have played you."

"Shut up. You didn't play me. In fact you were one of the best girlfriends I have had. I knew the risks and I still pursued you."

Leah let out a deep sigh as she leaned on her knees.

"So what now?"

"Well. I suggest we call quits because neither of us would be happy."

"But what about you?"

"What about me? It's been a privilege to have my heart broken by you."

Leah narrowed her eyes at the statement and Bryce guffawed. "You know I love to quote TFIOS and I saw the opportunity and I had to."

"Bryce."

"Yeah yeah... I will be fine... Not now, but eventually. You are my best friend first and seeing you happy is all I want. Not gonna lie, I hope that I can find the kind of love you share with Ethan."

"I know that the guy upstairs has a plan for an amazing guy like you."

"Fingers crossed."

They both got up, and Bryce walked her to the door. Leah was still in deep thought but it was relief and lightness in her step.

Turning towards him, she placed a hand on the door frame. "Are you sure you are gonna be okay? I'm so sorry-

"Leah Marianne Garcia. Get the fuck our if here and get your man."

Leah gave h a huge grin and wrapped her arms around him in gratitude. "I only wish the best for you, Queen B."

"Right back at ya, Lee Lee."

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

Running.

She was running hard and fast down the empty streets of Boston. Her darned luck made her miss the last train to Ethan's place so she decided to take off running.

Her converse clad feet stomped on the wet slippery ground, never once slowing down.

Which tuned out to be bad idea because when she turned the corner to Ethan's street, she slipped and tripped, which resulted in her scraping her knees and her elbows on the rough pavement.

"Son of a bitch!!" Leah groaned as she painfully rose on her feet and tried to assess the damage.

Her tights were ripped at the knees, blood gushing down. There were tiny scratches on her palms and abrasions on her elbows.

I hope no one saw my epic fai-

"Sunshine?"

Great. Nice timing you got there god.

She turned around and saw Ethan standing there, with Jenner at his feet. Jenner immediately reached out to Leah, with an excited bark but was restrained by her leash.

He bent down and unclipped the leash from her collar. "Easy there girl. Now go."

Jenner excitedly rushed to her and stood on her hind paws and pressed her paws on Leah's waist, as if it were trying to give her a hug.

"Hello girl. how I have missed youuu. Who has been a good girl?" She asked to which Jenner barked. "That's right. You have been a good girl." She scratched the back of her ears and Jenner got back down on all fours, circling around her, sniffing.

"You came?" His voice wafted over to her.

Leah looked up, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah. I had to. We need to talk."

"Lets go up." he said, as he walked towards her.

She proceeded to walk, only to remember about her injured, bleeding knees. She stumbled and Ethan reached out to grasp her elbow, which was a bad idea because she yelped out in pain.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he surveyed her entire body, his eyes widening at the injuries on her knees and the elbows.

"Holy shit sunshine! You are bleeding. Why are you bleeding?"

"I was running and I slipped. Don't worry its just a scratch. It's not like I broke a leg or something." She said as she walked carefully.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist providing extra support, which Leah didn't have the heart to say no to. Together, with Jenner running circles around them, as if she was excited about the reunion, they walked to the lobby of the penthouse. They rode the elevator in silence, Ethan not once letting go of her which made her cheeks hot.

They reached the designated floor and walked towards the door. One entering, Ethan immediately rushed to the kitchen where he kept the first aid kit.  She sunk into the plush sofa and let out a sigh of relief.

As he poured antiseptic solution on the cotton, he gave instructions. "Take out your pants. I will just clean up these wounds and bandage them properly and then you can borrow something of mine because no matter how cool ripped jeans out this isn't going to wor-"

"Ethan you are overreacting. This is a small scratch-"

"God, sunshine! Will you stop being so stubborn?"

"Says Mr. I- will-walk- around- as-if- nothing's- happened- but- I- actually have a- ruptured- appendix." Leah scoffed which Ethan did not find funny. With an unamused expression he pressed the antiseptic on to the scratches on her elbow, which immediately burnt.

"Pinchewy!" She cried out.

"Yeah, right back at you. Didn't no one teach you as a child to not run on wet surfaces?"

Leah grumbled and looked the other way as he continued to work on her elbows.

After a moment of silence, Leah decided to speak about her reason to come here. "Bryce and I broke up."

She felt his piercing blue eyes land on her. "Sunshine I'm so sorry. It's all my fau-"

Interrupting him, she continued. "He decided to let me go because he knew that my stubborn ass won't date you without an incentive."

Sighing, she turned towards him, halting him in his work. "Ethan... You are a sarcastic son of a bitch, who is stubborn to a fault. Your head is so far up your ass that you don't even notice the subtle hints I send your way. You are arrogant but you also have the getaway pass because you are hot as fuck and are so damn intelligent."

"Thanks for the compliment?'

Leah chuckled as she placed her hand on his hand. "But... you are kind and you are passionate about saving lives. You may come across a harsh, but on the inside you are huge softie who cares about my success. You are a grump but, only I have been privileged to see your smile. There is so much good in you and you are such a great man. I could go on and on about the good in you but it would end up being a thesis report.

So in short, I just want to say that those are the many things I love about you."

Ethan's eyes widened, and hope and adoration poured into his eyes. He squeezed her hand as she continued. "Ethan, do you know why we work so well together? Its because we complement each other. Sure, those can lead to fights but, we always come out from those fights stronger. We are so strong and beautiful together."

She cupped his face and spoke. "So... Are you willing to give us another chance?"

Ethan's heart was bursting will joy and happiness. She wants me... She really wants me...

He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb against her cheekbone. "Sunshine, I can be a hard-ass sometimes and let’s not get started on how emotionally challenged I am. I'm a dumbass for ignoring the lines of fate. Trying to resist the inevitable just caused us more pain and sadness.” 

“Sunshine, I can't promise that this relationship will be perfect. Hell, this is uncharted territory for me. We may have fights and times when I want to bang my head against the wall but there is one thing I promise you. I will fight for you always and I will love you unconditionally."

"So will you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?" He asked with a giddy smile.

"Hell yeah. You can't get rid of me that easily." They both reached forward and when their lips touched, sparks of happiness and love radiated between them. Ethan ran his hand against her soft cheeks while Leah ran her hand through his luscious brown hair. This wasn't any kiss.

This was a lover's kiss. A promise. A seal of fate.

But the moment didn't last that longed. Ethan's knees knocked against hers and she cried out in pain. "Ouch!"

The both of them laughed. "Lets get you fixed up before we move on to strenuous activities, okay?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Yes doc.”

And finally, the two imperfect lovers were reunited.

bet y'all expressions would be like this

And then like this

and then hopefully like this? 

LOL im pushing my luck

Anyways I hope y'all liked it heheheh

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[css1992]

I won’t go home without you

Summary/Prompt: “roommates au: where peter is tony's roomate for about a year. Peter has feelings for tony and decides to seduced him even though he has an on and off relationship with pepper”

Word count: 13.7K+

Warnings: Explicit, nff, underage drinking, loss of virginity, jealous!Tony, violence (just a boys fight, not between starker), a little angst with a happy ending. Can’t think of anything else, if you find anything triggering, please let me know!

No Pepper bashing! In this house, we stan Pepper Potts, thanksbye.

*

“I swear to God, Tony, sometimes you make it impossible to love you!”

Peter could hear Pepper’s voice through the door, she sounded furious and upset, which was unusual for her. She was always so – put together. Like she had it all figured out. She was classy and elegant, smart, beautiful and polite. She was the perfect woman, the perfect girlfriend. Peter still felt a little embarrassed to think that when he met Tony, almost a year earlier, he actually thought he might stand a chance with him. A few days later, he met Pepper and it dawned on him that the older boy was way, way out of his league.

“Wow, fuck, I’m so sorry it’s such a hardship to be with me! Why the fuck don’t you just go!?”

They met on their first day at MIT. It was the best day of Peter’s life, he’d always dreamed of going there, but he never actually thought he’d get in. And even if he did, he knew he’d never be able to afford it, so when he got the scholarship, it was like a dream come true – May was really proud. He was so nervous about meeting his roommate, he was afraid it would be some stuck-up, rich, little genius who’d make fun of him for his worn-out clothes, beat-up phone and used textbooks.

“That’s because you keep coming after me with your bullshit promises and lies, and I’m an idiot for falling for that!”

Tony was nothing like Peter had dreaded. He was so cool and laid-back, when he walked into the room the younger boy was immediately smitten with him. Peter noticed he wore nice clothes and his bags looked really expensive, but he was so nice to him. He introduced himself, let Peter choose which bed he would like to sleep in, he even took him out for coffee and they explored campus together. Tony was handsome and charming and an absolute flirt, by the end of the day, Peter was helplessly in love with him, he would write songs and poems about the older boy if he had any talent – unfortunately, he didn’t.

“Go on, then, leave, that’s all you ever do anyway. And don’t worry, I won’t call, we’re done for good this time.”

He remembered spending the next few days thinking of ways to ask Tony out. He rehearsed what to say in front of the mirror – it was terrible –; he looked through his clothes to see if he had anything nice enough to wear to a date – he didn’t –; he even went as far as to try and tame his curls the day he was supposed to ask him out – it was hopeless –, but it was all for nothing, because when he got back to their room that evening, with sweaty palms and wobbly knees, he found Tony kissing that gorgeous, cherry blonde vision that was Pepper Potts.

“You’re gonna end up alone, Tony, I mean it. If you don’t learn how to let others in, you’ll be lonely and bitter, and it’s gonna be all your own damn fault!”

And they made perfect sense together, they belonged to the same world. They were high school sweethearts, Pepper went to the same private school as Tony, her family was wealthy, just like his,  she was tall and her nose was so fucking straight and perfect, just like her hair, and she had gorgeous blue eyes and she probably had beautiful clothes to go on dates with him, and they could go to expensive restaurants and split the tab and she’d be able to afford her half, and she could probably write poetry about him. They were just perfect together.  

“This is bullshit and you know it, Pepper, you fucking know it!”

And still, when they weren’t together, Tony acted like Peter might have a chance. Like something could happen between them. Whenever Pepper dumped him – which had happened at least three times over the course of that year; four, if he counted that current fight – Tony would act different around Peter.

The younger man wasn’t sure if he was just imagining things – probably –, Tony was always sweet and a little flirty with everyone, but when he wasn’t with Pepper, it was – just different. He’d take Peter out on what other people might consider dates, his touches lingered for longer than necessary, he’d hug and kiss him whenever he had an excuse, they’d cuddle in bed to watch movies and eat pizza, it was just – weird. Good weird. Peter wasn’t complaining.

His friends seemed to think Tony saw Peter as a younger brother, Pepper thought so, too, but it wasn’t that, it wasn’t that at all. He noticed the way Tony looked at him sometimes, the way he stared at his ass when he turned around, the way his eyes lingered on his body when he changed into his pajamas at night. Tony wanted him, but for some reason he never made a move. Actually, he made several moves, but he never took the final step. It was like a very cruel, very drawn out foreplay that never led anywhere. Then he and Pepper made up and it was like nothing had ever happened.

“Have a good life, Tony.” Peter raised his head when Pepper’s voice got louder as she opened the door and walked right past him, she didn’t even notice his presence. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with his headphones on – although nothing was playing – and his backpack and a few textbooks resting on his legs. He was just coming back from the library when he heard the yelling coming from inside the room, so he decided to wait outside, but that had been over an hour earlier. He was hungry and his back hurt when he finally turned to see Tony walking out of the room right behind Pepper.

“Good fucking riddance!” The older boy yelled at the blonde’s back, but she had already turned the corner. His eyes dropped to where Peter was sitting and he leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his naked chest. He looked so good, all fucked out, they were probably having sex before the fight, his hair was such a sexy mess, like someone – Pepper – had run their hands all over it. “How much of that did you hear?” The older boy asked, rubbing at his forehead, and Peter just shrugged with a small smile.

“Not much. Are you okay?” Tony reached down to help him with his backpack and textbooks as Peter got up from the floor, which proved to be a little challenging since his legs had fallen asleep. Tony held him by the waist when he almost stumbled back down, their chests touching. “S-sorry.”

“It’s okay, munchkin. And I’m peachy.” The older boy smiled a little sarcastically, but Peter didn’t mind, he knew it was just a defense mechanism. He had some of his own. “I’m sorry you had to wait outside. Let me buy you a drink?” He still didn’t let go of Peter’s waist and the younger boy realized it was gonna start all over again. All the heavy flirting that made him fall even harder in love with his roommate, that made his heart swell with hope, only to be crushed again when he and Pepper inevitably got back together. Great.

“Yeah, sure. Let me just put this stuff away,” he whispered under his breath, watching a dirty, lopsided smile forming on Tony’s gorgeous lips.

Fuck.

*

To Peter’s relief – and disappointment –, Tony had invited other people to join them. Rhodey, Thor, Bruce, Clint and Natasha were already at the bar when they arrived and, somehow, they seemed to already know what had happened. Rhodey, Tony’s oldest friend, made jokes about how he and Pepper would eventually get back together for the hundredth time and Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head emphatically.

“I mean it, I’m done with her, it’s just too much drama, I don’t need this shit in my life right now.” Tony’s arm was a heavy, comfortable weight on his shoulders, his side was flush against Peter’s, their thighs pressed together, even though there was more than enough room in the booth for them to sit further apart. If Peter turned his head slightly to the right, his lips would be inches away from Tony’s jaw, the unmistakable smell of his aftershave would get him drunk way faster than the booze. “I’m getting another one, do you want one, too, Pete?”

“Yeah, sure.” The younger boy downed the rest of his beer as Tony got up to get more. Of course he had a fake ID – he was so cool – and it was convincing, too. It helped that Tony looked older than he actually was, he even had to shave everyday. Peter couldn’t grow a hair on his face to save his life and on top of that he had a baby face. The older boy had hooked him up with a fake ID, too, which was how he could get into bars with them, but every time he tried to buy a drink people looked at him suspiciously.

“You should give it a shot,” Peter was startled out of his thoughts by Natasha’s voice in his ear. The other guys were distracted, talking about their plans for the summer, but she was looking straight at him with a smart glint in her eyes. “You know. Stop pining, start acting.”

“Wai – what? I’m – what do you mean?” He giggled nervously, hands sweaty, but Natasha didn’t even pretend to believe his confusion. Peter liked her, but she creeped him out a little, she always acted like she knew what was going on with him and sometimes even he didn’t know what was going on with himself.

“C’mon, Parker, I’m not blind. You’ve been crushing on him forever, it’s cute and a little pathetic.” She shrugged and Peter actually choked on air. He looked around the table to see if anyone had heard her, but the others were still distracted by their own conversations. “It’s okay, they’re clueless.”

“I-I-” Peter didn’t know what to say. Should he deny it? Could he even make it convincing? Should he confess? Play dead? Call the cops?

“You should seize this opportunity, you know. Now that he’s single again.” Natasha rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and Peter blushed just thinking about doing what she suggested.

“I-I couldn’t, Nat. He loves her. They belong together,” Peter muttered, playing with his empty bottle, when he felt Natasha flick his forehead. “Ouch!”

“If they belonged together, they’d be together, dummy. They love each other, but it just doesn’t work between them. They know it, they’re just too afraid to admit it, they’ve been together so long, they don’t even know what it’s like to be alone anymore. They’re scared.” She downed the rest of her beer and glanced towards the other guys to make sure they were still distracted. “He wants you, Pete. And he knows you want him, too. That’s why he keeps leading you on, he wants to keep you interested, he’s saving you for later, like a snack. Don’t let him. You’re not a snack, you’re a three course, hot meal, a fucking feast. Make sure he knows it.” She leaned forwards, lips brushing against his earlobe, and if there was one single heterosexual bone in his body he would have shivered – but there wasn’t. “You should see how he’s looking at us right now. So jealous.”

Before Peter could say anything or ask what she meant, he felt Tony plopping back down in the booth by his side, one arm quickly reclaiming its spot over his shoulders, pulling him away from Nat, not so subtly.

“Hey, what are you whispering about?” Tony pressed his side to Peter’s, his arm bent so he could run his fingers through Peter’s wild curls. The boy shivered – because, yeah, every single bone in his body was very gay and very attracted to Tony –  as he turned to look at Nat, who smirked at the older boy.

“None of your business.” She shrugged, turning away from them to join Clint and Thor’s conversation about climate change. Tony didn’t pay her any mind, he pulled Peter even closer – he was seriously beginning to question impenetrability – and placed a beer in his hand.

“We should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us,” he spoke close to his ear, the bar was crowded and loud, it was a good excuse to lean even closer to him and feel his hot breath brushing his neck.

“Like what?” Peter turned in his direction, their faces were inches apart, Tony made no move to pull away. God, was Natasha right? Did Tony really want him, was he really aware of Peter’s interest? Was he playing a game, trying to keep him close, leading him on? For what? What even was his endgame?

“I don’t know, we could catch a movie, grab a bite, walk around. You know. Just hang out.” Like a date. Peter wished he could say it, but he was a coward, so he just looked into Tony’s beautiful, soft, brown eyes, the eyes that made him fall in love in the first place, and smiled, nodding his head.

“Sounds fun.” The older boy beamed and the hand that had been scratching his scalp slid down his temple and twirled a curl behind his ear. Fucking fuck –

“Your hair is getting long,” Tony mumbled, eyes focused on Peter’s locks, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I don’t have the money to get it cut right now, but when I head home for the summer May’s gonna do it.” At first, Peter was a little embarrassed to talk to Tony about his financial situation, he knew the older boy was filthy rich, but he acted so cool about it that Peter sometimes forgot completely.

“I kinda like it, it suits you.” He said, resting his hand back on Peter’s shoulder. “But then again, you’re gorgeous, so I guess any haircut would look great on you.” Peter’s breath hitched, because, yeah – he definitely wasn’t imagining things. Tony was flirting. And not, like, good-naturedly, it was real. Natasha was right.

Maybe.

What if – what if Peter took that final step that Tony refused to take? He was so sure he could make him happy. They wouldn’t fight, Peter would get him. He knew Tony kept crazy hours because he didn’t sleep well, he drank too much coffee and slept in way too often. He knew he didn’t like to talk about his dad or about the company that waited for him back home. He knew he didn’t like to talk about his feelings, but he didn’t need to, because he wore his heart on his sleeve and Peter could read him like a book. He knew he sometimes needed his space, needed to be alone. Sometimes he needed time to study or work on his projects. Peter understood him completely and he loved every single quirk of his. He knew he could make him happy.

Well, he could at least try.

*

The first time he cuddled with Tony in his bed, his scent enveloping him, his warmth seeping through his clothes and transferring to Peter’s shivering skin, he knew they were right for each other. Peter might not be perfect for him, he wasn’t rich, sophisticated, well-mannered or well-connected; he wasn’t a genius – although he was pretty smart – and he wasn’t the most good-looking guy out there – he wasn’t tall, his eyebrows looked funny and his lips were a little too thin –, so, yeah, he knew he wasn’t perfect for Tony, like Pepper was, but he was right for him. He knew it.

Tony didn’t seem to notice it, though, no matter how many other times they laid in each other’s arms. Like at that moment, lying on the grass by Charles River bike path with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish, with Peter’s head on his shoulder and a timid hand on his stomach. Peter could hardly breathe, but Tony was relaxed, peaceful, star-gazing and sharing trivia about the known universe with the younger boy – most of which he already knew, but it was nice hearing it from Tony’s lips.

“What are you thinking about, munchkin?” Tony interrupted his own rant about the Chandrasekhar limit when he noticed he wasn’t paying attention. Peter blushed, but looked up at the older boy, he was staring down at him with an amused little smile. “Am I boring you?”

“No, sorry, I’m just thinking about home. I miss May.” He shared a half truth, because that was something he was constantly thinking about lately. He hadn’t been able to go home for Christmas, so it had been almost a year since he’d last seen her. He missed Ned and MJ, too, and they’d both be in New York for the break. “Are you going home for the summer?” Peter quickly figured out that Tony hated it home. He never talked about it, never talked about his father and rarely ever talked about his mother, although when he did, it was always nice things about her, but it was easy to understand it wasn’t a subject he was comfortable with.

“I don’t have much choice.” He shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “My mom called, can’t say no to her.” The older boy closed his eyes, sighing, and Peter felt bad for bringing it up.

“You can come stay with me in Queens whenever you want. My bed is really small, though, so we’ll have to snuggle together, I hope you don’t mind,” he said, cheekily, and Tony looked down at him with a grin

“We’d make it work.” He wrapped his arms around Peter, pulling him closer, and only then did the younger boy realize he was freezing. He tucked his cold nose in Tony’s warm neck and he didn’t even flinch. “Hey, you know what, I’m driving back to New York, you should come with me, we could make a road trip out of it.”

“From Boston to New York?” Peter smiled with mirth, looking up at Tony again, and the older boy looked back at him with a frown.

“Yeah, what about it?” He huffed indignantly and Peter giggled, shaking his head.

“That’s not much of a road trip,” he argued, but Tony just shrugged.

“That’s up to us, we can make a road trip out of it.” And that’s how he knew he was right for Tony, because he heard what he didn’t say. He didn’t want to go home, he wanted to postpone his return, and he wanted Peter to keep him company as he got ready to face what waited for him in New York.

“Let’s do it,” He whispered in Tony’s neck and felt him tighten his grip on his waist.

“Cool.” Peter wanted to say something, maybe do something, but at the same time – what if Natasha was wrong? What if Tony really only thought of him as a younger brother, after all, what if all the flirting was only in Peter’s head? But it couldn’t be. Not when Tony placed a kiss on his eyelids, cold fingers gently rubbing his hipbone. Maybe he was waiting for Peter? The younger boy took a deep breath, trying to talk himself into leaning up and kissing him, when he felt the older boy move. “Come on, we should head back, it’s getting late.”

Well. Some other time, then.

*

Three weeks had passed since Tony’s fight with Pepper, and Peter was pretty sure that was the longest they had gone without talking to each other, at least since he met them. Their fights always lasted around a week, then they would make up – which usually meant Peter had to find somewhere to be while they had loud, make-up sex for hours. It was annoying and heartbreaking, specially because every single time they broke up, Peter got his hopes up.

That time was different. It was, because it had been way more than a week and Tony was acting more and more like maybe he felt the same way as Peter, and he never once mentioned Pepper, and they hung out together everyday, and they laughed together, and they even helped each other with school work, and everything was just so great, it was going somewhere, at least Peter thought so. Maybe Tony was beginning to realize he was a whole meal, after all, not just a snack, whatever the hell Natasha meant by that.

So he made a decision. There was a party at Delta Pi on Saturday, it would be the perfect opportunity to make something – anything – happen. He bought a new pair of skinny jeans he just knew Tony would love – he had seen him staring at his ass countless times not to know – and he had one nice shirt that would go perfect with it. He would drink a few shots and just – be cool. And flirty. And he’d take the final step, if Tony didn’t.  

So when Saturday rolled around, he made an excuse about a paper he had to finish and told Tony to go without him, told him that he would meet him at the party. He took a long shower, washed his hair with the sweetest-smelling shampoo he could find at the drugstore, tamed his curls with so much hair product that they actually stayed put when he brushed them to the side, then put on his cheap cologne and his best clothes.

When he looked in the mirror, he liked what he saw. He looked like someone on Tony’s league, someone who could go on a date with him and look the part, someone who could be seen kissing him, walking by his side hand in hand, someone who could make him happy. The perfect boyfriend. It made him smile, imagining all of that.

“You got this, Parker, come on. You can do this,” he talked to himself in the mirror, taking a deep breath and fixing his hair one last time. “Go get him!”

When he arrived at the party, it was already in full swing. A few drunk seniors laid on the grass outside, vomiting or giggling stupidly, and Peter could hear the noise coming from inside the house. It was really loud and really crowded when he walked in and as he made his way through the masses of people, he kept looking for a familiar face. Nat was the first one he found, and she looked at him with wide eyes and a knowing smirk.

“Someone is looking for trouble tonight,” she shouted over the music as soon as he was close enough to hear her. He grinned, accepting the plastic cup she handed him.

“Not trouble, hopefully.” He downed the contents of the cup and it tasted vile. He had no idea what he’d just drunk, but it was alcohol, and he would need to be at least a little tipsy if he wanted to go through with his plan. “Have you seen him?” He shouted back at her, looking around the living room.

“He’s out back by the pool, go get him, tiger!” She beamed, pushing him in the general direction of the backdoor. He took a little detour and stopped at the kitchen to get a beer, and then another, before he headed to the backyard.

It wasn’t as loud outside, but he could still hear the music playing in the living room. People were talking loudly and laughing, someone had jumped in the pool and was trying to convince others to join them. A few girls were taking their tops off and getting ready to jump in.

“Hey, Parker! Over here!” He heard Thor’s booming voice coming from his left and when he turned, he saw a few people sitting in a circle in pool chairs. He recognized Steve – Tony’s best frenemy, they couldn’t seem to decide if they hated or loved each other –, Bucky, Sam, Thor and Bruce, surprisingly sitting on Thor’s lap. Still, no sign of Tony.

“Hey, what’s up.” He approached them, trying to sound cool and chill, but his eyes were wandering.  

“Hey, did you just get here?” Bruce smiled, offering him yet another cup filled with something unrecognizable to Peter. He accepted it anyway.

“Yeah, I was finishing a paper, I just –“

“Pete?” Peter turned around quickly, coming face to face with Tony. The older boy looked gorgeous as always, his hair was a floppy mess and he was wearing his signature ripped jeans and a band t-shirt and he still looked like a fucking wet dream. He was gaping at Peter as if he was seeing him for the first time ever and the younger boy, feeling confident and a little tipsy, puffed his chest out and straightened his back.

“Hey, Tones,” he said somewhat shyly, looking at the older boy from under his lashes – he read somewhere online that it was a good flirting technique.

“Hi, I – are you – are you meeting someone?” Tony shook his head, a little confused, blinking a couple of times, and Peter blushed, chuckling and dropping his gaze – this was supposed to make him look charming and cute.

“Just you.” He stared at the older boy head on, and watched nervously as understanding seemed to dawn on him. A slow smile started forming on his lips, confidence growing as he approached, beer in hand. Tony was only a few inches taller than Peter, but the way he carried himself made it seem like feet.

“Well, you found me, munchkin,” he said when he was close enough that Peter could feel his breath on his face.

“Get a room, you two.” Peter vaguely registered Sam’s voice, but didn’t even acknowledge him. Tony, on the other hand, flipped him off, but his eyes never left Peter.

“Suck a dick, Wilson,” he shouted over Peter’s shoulder, before wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him away from his circle of friends. “I thought you weren’t coming anymore.” He said as he steered Peter somewhere quieter. They walked to the far back of the house, where they could barely hear the music coming from the inside anymore. There were a few other people scattered around there, mostly drunk or too busy making out to notice them. Peter leaned against a tree trunk and Tony rested a hand on the side of his face.

“Sorry, I really needed to finish that paper.” Tony didn’t need to know that he spent almost two hours showering and shaving, then a whole other hour doing his hair and getting dressed and second guessing his outfit. “Did you miss me?” He asked, cheekily, punching his chest weakly and Tony grabbed his hand, holding it to his heart.

“Always.” He grinned, taking one step closer to the younger boy. Peter braced himself for something – anything – but Tony just stood there, way too fucking close to be casual. “I like what you did with your hair, but I miss the curls. You look really gorgeous tonight.”

“Yeah?” Peter breathed, gathering all the courage he had to whisper the next few words. “Are you gonna do something about it?” Apparently, it was all Tony needed to hear.

The older boy crashed his lips against Peter’s and he went to heaven and back in the course of 0.1 seconds. God knew how many times he’d fantasized about their first kiss – where would it be? How would Tony taste? Would it be soft and tender or rough and wild? – but his wildest fantasies couldn’t compare. It didn’t matter where they were when Tony pressed his body flush against Peter’s and he felt every inch of his chest and hips touching his. He tasted like alcohol and his hands were rough where they pulled Peter closer by the waist, but his lips were gentle as he kissed him deep and slow.

It was nothing like Peter had imagined – but then again, he’d imagined flowers, bells, rain, tuxes and an actual white horse, so maybe his dreams weren’t that realistic – but it was better. Real. Peter had kissed his fair share of boys in high school, but Tony was different, he kissed with his whole body, his hands were restless and roamed all over Peter’s heated skin, his hips moving ever so slightly and he was so out of it that he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed for being hard – Tony was, too.

“Do you wanna go back to our room?” He whispered against his mouth, nipping his bottom lip, and Peter’s heart went wild. He knew what the other boy was suggesting, and it was another thing he couldn’t stop fantasizing about, but – was he even ready for that? He thought he was, he fucking wanted it so bad, he daydreamed about Tony every single day, all the fucking time, whenever he saw a hint of his bare skin, whenever he was close enough to touch. On the other hand, he’d never done it with anyone – he was suddenly reminded of Wade, his boyfriend from high school who broke up with him because Peter wasn’t ready for sex.

“Yeah,” he whispered, breathless, watching a slow smile forming on Tony’s face before he attacked his lips once again.

“Come on, then.”

They made it back to the dormitories in record time, Peter was so nervous he felt like throwing up – but maybe it had something to do with all the alcohol he drank. When they were finally in their room, with the door closed and locked, and Tony looked at him with dark, hungry eyes, approaching slowly, like a predator, he forgot how to breathe for one whole minute.

The room was so quiet Tony’s steps resonated and filled all the empty space, making Peter shiver in anticipation. They stood in the space between their beds, and when Tony finally reached him, his hands cupped Peter’s face, thumbs brushing his jaw as their lips met again.

“Your place or mine?” He asked playfully, indicating their beds with his chin, and Peter didn’t even hesitate.

“Yours.”

The thought of losing his virginity in Tony’s bed, lying in his sheets, smelling his scent, was everything Peter could have hoped for. Sure, he hadn’t thought his first time would happen before he even had his first official date with Tony, but then again, maybe his expectations were a bit unrealistic in the first place – it involved candlelit dinner, a ring and a string quartet with blind musicians, so.

Tony kissed him again, his fingers ventured under Peter’s shirt, touching the skin above the waistband of his jeans softly, brushing his calloused thumbs on his sensitive hipbones. Peter whimpered, wrapping his arms around his neck, and let Tony take the lead as he pushed him carefully towards the bed, until the back of his legs touched the mattress. His heart was beating loudly against his rib cage when he fell backwards and Tony carefully climbed on top of him, his weight pressing him down.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” He asked, breathless, as he placed hot, wet kisses across Peter’s jaw, then down the column of his neck, hungrily. The younger boy thought that had to be the most turned on he had ever been in his life, feeling Tony’s teeth against his jugular. “Dressing like that, getting all dolled up just for me?” Peter gasped when Tony placed a leg between his, pressing his thigh against his already rock-hard cock.

“Y-yeah, yes, just for you,” Peter whimpered, feeling dizzy just from the kissing and Tony’s leg rubbing against him. “Kept waiting for you to make a move, but –“ He gasped when Tony sucked the skin where his neck met his collarbone, surely leaving a bruise behind.

“I was trying to be good.” Tony’s quick fingers ventured under his shirt, his palms dragged up Peter’s torso, the boy’s whole body caught on fire from how warm his hands were. He arched his back, giving Tony room to pull his shirt over his head. “Trying really hard not to ruin my sweet, innocent roommate.” Peter almost cried when he felt Tony’s tongue lapping at one of his oversensitive nipples, sucking it into his mouth carefully, gently, like it was the most precious thing. “You made it really fucking hard, Pete. I’m a weak man.”

“Tony,” he moaned when the older boy licked across his chest until he reached his other nipple, and Peter spread his legs, trying to find a position in which he could get more friction from the other boy’s thigh. He was comfortable with all that, it was nothing different from what he had already done with Wade, it didn’t make him nervous or anxious, just really fucking horny. “Fuck.”

“Shhh.” Tony’s lips traveled back to his mouth as his hands slid down Peter’s sides to the waistband of his jeans. “We’ll get there.” He licked his mouth open once again in another hungry kiss, as his fingers worked on undoing his pants. “These fucking jeans, I swear to fuck.” Tony kept pulling back to whisper whatever came to his mind, which Peter found amusing and endearing. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

When Tony was finally able to undo his jeans, he started dragging them down his legs, as his lips traveled down Peter’s chest and stomach, leaving bruises and wet kisses along the way, until he was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that’s when he started feeling anxious. The older boy’s lips were kissing and sucking the skin just above the waistband of his underwear, so fucking close to Peter’s cock he could practically feel the heat of his breath. His cock was so fucking hard it must be purple, he needed something, anything –  

Tony mouthed at his left hipbone as his fingers dug into the flesh of Peter’s thighs and his hips buckled, trying to find some kind of relief. He felt the older boy smirking against his skin before he felt his boxers sliding down his legs slowly, and he only registered that he was completely naked when Tony sat back on his haunches at stared openly at him. He blushed and tried to cover himself, but the older boy grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the bed.

“Don’t you dare hide from me,” he whispered under his breath, his face inches away from Peter’s. “You look fucking gorgeous, Pete,” the younger boy whimpered again, accepting the rough, bruising kiss Tony placed on his lips, before he pulled away, taking his Black Sabath t-shirt off. Peter licked his lips, feeling his cock twitch as he admired Tony’s chest and abs; he had an amazing body, which Peter already knew from seeing him shirtless countless times before, but that was different. It was intimate now, Tony was undressing for him, which had a whole other meaning. The younger boy reached out, hands finally allowed to touch the tanned, heated skin and it felt smooth and firm under his fingertips.

Tony let him have his fun for a few seconds before he attacked his lips once again, one of his hands wrapped around Peter’s cock without warning and he honest to God had to hold himself back to avoid coming way, way too soon. Tony tightened his grasp on his shaft and started pumping at the same slow pace as he was kissing him, his other hand mussing Peter’s curls.

Peter tried to reach down to return the favor, but before he could, Tony slid back down where he was earlier and, again, without warning, licked the lip of Peter’s leaking cock and the boy yelped in surprise, eyes flying open. Wade had only ever given him head once and it wasn’t even that good, but the way Tony swallowed him whole, until he felt the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat was a whole different story.

“Oh, God, Tony, Tony, fuck!” He writhed on the tiny bed, the older boy’s fingers dug into his ass cheeks roughly as his head bobbed faster and faster. Peter’s feet were planted on the mattress, knees bent and hands gripping the sheets tightly, trying to keep still instead of thrusting up into the wet heat of Tony’s mouth.

He was half aware of the boy’s finger making its way into his crack and brushing against his hole, but he tried to relax, concentrating on what his mouth was doing. Tony quickened the pace as said finger pressed harder against his hole, testing, and Peter cursed under his breath, trying to relax his muscles to allow Tony entrance when he finally tried to push inside.

Again, he had to hold back not to come on the spot. He had fingered himself before and he couldn’t deny it was something he enjoyed very much, but just the thought that it was Tony’s finger inside him, Tony’s finger trying to get him ready for what was about to come later, fuck, it was really, really fucking hard to hold back.

“Tony, stop, stop, I can’t – gonna –“ He pushed the boy’s head away from his cock, no matter how badly he wanted him to keep going, otherwise it would all be over before Tony even took off his pants. The older boy got up from the bed, quickly undoing his jeans while he headed towards his messy desk. He searched one of his drawers and retrieved a small tube and a packet from there, before making his way back to the bed. He took off his pants, freeing his erection, and Peter stared, mouth watering.

Tony’s cock was fully hard and leaking, it was bigger than Peter’s own and than what he remembered Wade’s to be, which made him a little nervous. The boy climbed back into bed, between Peter’s spread legs, and kissed him slowly.

Again, Peter was only half aware of his hands shuffling and moving somewhere between his thighs, but soon he felt one wet, cold finger breaching him again, sliding in more easily than before. Tony’s finger was longer and thicker than Peter’s own, it reached deep inside him and curled in an angle that made him see stars.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter threw his head back and Tony immediately proceeded to suck bruises on his neck, as a second finger made its way to Peter’s crack. He braced himself on Tony’s shoulders as the second finger slid in, eyes shut and mouth hanging open in a silent moan. When both fingers were inside him and Tony’s knuckles brushed the curve of his ass, Peter tried to relax and open up as the older boy scissored his fingers, trying to stretch him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, drawing out his fingers and then thrusting them in again, fucking him open, trying to set a pace. Peter felt the tips of his fingers brushing his prostate every now and again and it made him forget the burn of the stretch for a few seconds, at least until Tony pulled his fingers away completely, sitting back on the bed.

Peter watched, mesmerized and nervous, as Tony opened the condom packet with his teeth, then proceeded to roll it on his cock, giving it a few pumps once it was on. He spread more lube over the already slick condom and Peter almost drooled, watching such a pornographic scene. He positioned himself back between Peter’s legs and the younger man’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes and grasped Tony’s waist, it gave him a sense of control when the older boy held himself with one hand, guiding his shaft to Peter’s entrance.

Peter let out a painful cry when the tip of Tony’s cock finally breached him, after a bit of a struggle. The older boy stopped immediately, leaning down to kiss his lips apologetically.

“Sorry, I haven’t been with a guy in a while, didn’t mean to hurt you, sorry,” he peppered kisses on his cheeks and the younger boy shook his head, trying to to put on a brave face.

“It’s fine – just – just go slow, please,” he whispered back, holding Tony’s jaw in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss to distract him. Tony held his hips down as he kissed him back, slowly pushing himself more and more inside Peter. It burned like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t an unbearable pain, like he imagined he would feel.

Tony took his cock in one of his hands, the pleasure mixing with the pain, until the older boy’s hipbones were flush against the back of his thighs, cock fully sheathed in Peter’s hole, arms caging him into the tiny bed and his weight pushing him down into the mattress. Peter felt so fucking full and trapped and crushed, and it felt fucking amazing. He wanted to feel like that all the fucking time, crushed under Tony’s body, trapped by his arms and full of his cock.

The older boy stopped for a few minutes, peppering apologetic kisses on his face, and Peter really appreciated it, it gave him time to take a deep breath and get used to the intrusion. He wrapped his legs around his waist a minute later, pulling him closer, and Tony got the message.

The older boy kissed him deeply as he started thrusting into him; slowly at first, then picking up the face as Peter relaxed, his body opening up more easily. It was a weird feeling at first, it burned and hurt a little, but it felt mostly weird. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about it until Tony brushed something inside him and it made him see fucking stars.

“Oh, my God, Tony!” His eyes widened as he gripped the other boy’s shoulders. He stopped immediately, startled, but Peter pushed against him, desperately. “No, no, keep going, don’t stop, please, right there, right there!” He was aware he was babbling and that he sounded like a slut, but he couldn’t really care, not when Tony buried himself deeper into him and started fucking him with abandon, his mouth leaving bruises on his throat, fingers digging into his ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter couldn’t even think straight, never knew sex could feel that good, he felt so fucking overwhelmed and – fuck –“I’m gonna – Tony, I’m--”

Tony swallowed his words in a bruising kiss as Peter went fucking blind with pleasure, coming so hard he was afraid he would pass out after. Tony fucked him through it, licking inside his mouth, grunting, thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy until he groaned loudly, buried deep inside Peter’s heat. He collapsed on top of the younger boy’s smaller body, but quickly rolled off, mindful of his weight. He seemed to gather the last of his energy to pull him to his chest, before essentially passing out, followed closely by a blissed out Peter.

*

When Peter woke up the next day, he was lying in Tony’s tiny bed, with his head resting on his chest and the older boy’s arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He smiled to himself, feeling silly and happy, even if a little sore. He lied awake for almost two hours, basking in the morning sunlight coming through the window before Tony started to stir. He seemed a little confused when he blinked his eyes open and saw Peter there, but then a smile spread across his lips and he placed a kiss on the younger boy’s head.

“Morning, munchkin.” His voice was raspy and rough, but his fingers rubbed his back softly.

“I think it’s afternoon, actually,” Peter replied, cheekily, and Tony just smiled, tugging his hair a little, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

“Details.”

Peter was unsure about what was going to happen from then on, but in the end, he didn’t have to worry, he just followed Tony’s lead. Behind the closed door of their dorm room, it felt like their own little world, where nothing could touch them. Peter rushed back everyday, eager to meet the older boy, and he was never disappointed by the reception. Tony always greeted him with a slow, deep kiss and an “I missed you” whispered into the top of his head. He was caring, attentive and so, so sweet. They never slept in separate beds, he woke Peter up with soft kisses on the back of his neck and he always made sure he was well fed and well rested.

And the sex – Peter couldn’t get over how amazing it was and how much better it got each day, specially after Tony found out he had inadvertently taken Peter’s virginity that fateful night. It was two days after the party and Peter was still feeling a bit sore when they were making out in his bed that night. He felt one of Tony’s fingers sliding towards his crack and he tensed a little, bracing himself for the burn that would follow if Tony tried to push inside.

“Hey, are you okay?” He whispered against his lips, frowning. “Don’t you wanna do this?”

“No, I do, I do, sorry, I’m just – I’m still a little sore from Saturday?” He answered sheepishly and Tony’s eyes widened a bit, as he pulled away to take a better look at Peter.

“Still? Fuck, Pete, did I hurt you?” He tried to sit up, but Peter held him by the shoulders, keeping him in bed.

“It’s okay, I looked it up, it’s normal.” He tried to calm the older boy, but he still looked alarmed.

“It’s not normal, it’s been two days, you shouldn’t still be feeling sore.” He retorted, trying to sit up again, so Peter let him, then sat by his side.

“I’m just not used to it, I –“ He took a deep breath, watching the confusion growing on the older boy’s face. “It was my first time.” He finally admitted, feeling his cheeks burning hot as he tried to avoid the Tony’s gaze.

“First time? First time doing what?” He asked, confused, and Peter just remained silent until he heard him gasp in surprise. “Your first time bottoming?”

“Uhm. Yeah. Just first time in general, I guess?” Peter turned to look at him and he would have laughed at Tony’s stunned face if he wasn’t so nervous he could cry.

“Peter, what the fuck!” He threw his arms up in exasperation and the younger boy dropped his gaze, embarrassment, shame and regret mixing in the pit of his stomach.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, pulling the sheets to cover his naked body. He felt way too vulnerable and exposed as it was.

“It’s kind of a big deal to me!”

“Please, don’t be mad, I didn’t want to say anything because I thought –“ He shut up when he felt Tony’s hand under his chin, forcing him to face him. He still looked a little agitated, but he took a deep breath and cupped Peter’s face with his hands.

“Babe, sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m not mad, I just – I wish you had told me. I wouldn’t have been so forward if I knew, I just assumed – you always talked about your ex, Wade? Weren’t you together for like, two years or something?” Tony frowned, genuinely confused, and Peter licked his lips nervously, nodding his head.

“Yeah, almost.” He looked into Tony’s brown eyes and the older boy narrowed them.  

“And you never…?”

“Uhm, we just fooled around, you know. Hand jobs and blow jobs in his car. I was really young, like, I was sixteen when he left for college. And I don’t know, it just never felt right.” Peter shrugged and Tony kept looking at him as if he had given birth to a three headed spider.

“And it felt right with me? God, Pete, did you feel pressured or something? I swear, I never woul –”

“Tony, relax, it felt right, more than right, ok? It was perfect.” It was his time to hold the older boy by his jaw, forcing him to face him. He smiled sweetly at him. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel it was right. Ok?” Tony looked like he was about to argue, but he swallowed his words and sighed, staring back at Peter intently, before covering his hands with his own. He closed the distance between them and kissed him gently.

“I really wish you would have told me,” he whispered against Peter’s lips, pulling away just enough for their eyes to meet.  

“Yeah? What would you have done differently?” Peter smirked, arching one brow, and Tony gave him his trademark, lopsided grin.

“I created a monster.”

It all happened inside their room. Outside, it was as if nothing had changed. They still went to classes and met their friends whenever they could, everybody still seemed to think they were just friends, only Natasha gave him a knowing look when they met for the first time after the party. Peter figured it was sensible, not to tell people yet. Tony had just broken up with Pepper and they were just starting to see each other romantically, they didn’t need other people meddling in their business and making it more complicated.

They had two quiet, peaceful weeks together. Like Peter imagined, they didn’t fight, they respected each other’s time and space, he could sense when Tony needed to be alone and when he needed to cuddle. They spent a lot of time together, but there were no hard feelings if either of them wanted some time apart.

They were having a lazy Sunday morning in bed, kissing slowly as they got down from the high of good morning sex, making plans about their road trip back home in just a couple of weeks. Tony planned all these detours that would get them to New York in three days instead of four hours and Peter really wanted to see May as soon as possible, but he also wanted to be there for Tony, so he just agreed to the crazy itinerary.

Things started heating up again when lazy kisses turned into heated ones, and hands roamed freely underneath the sheets. Peter rolled on top of Tony, straddling his hips, he was still loose from their lovemaking earlier, so he took Tony’s cock in his hand and guided it directly towards his entrance without any prep.

And then, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Tony, open up.” Tony practically threw Peter to the floor when he heard Pepper’s voice. The younger boy was able to avoid falling on his butt by cushioning the fall with his hands, but it sent a sharp pain up his left wrist. “What’s all this noise? Is anyone there with you?”

“Uhm, hold on! It’s just Peter – he’s, uh, changing. Wait a second!” Tony stared at Peter with pleading eyes as he helped him to his feet, but the younger boy was having none of it, he shoved Tony away with one hand, cradling the other close to his chest.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he whispered, as he looked around for his underwear, feeling hurt by how frantic Tony looked just from hearing Pepper’s voice. He opened the window, probably hoping the smell of sex wouldn’t be too strong, and quickly started to get dressed. Once they were both presentable, Peter sat at his desk and Tony yanked the door open.

“Hey, Pep,” he greeted, leaning against the doorway and Peter scoffed behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I just, I was – I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” She asked, peeking inside the room, acknowledging Peter’s presence for the first time then. “Hey, Pete. Could you give us a minute, please?”

The younger man looked from Tony to Pepper to Tony again. He expected the older boy to tell him to stay, to say they should all have that conversation together, because he was with Peter now, but Tony just shot him a pleading look and the boy sighed, nodding at Pepper.

“Yeah, sure, I gotta – I’m going,” he gave her a strained smile, as he got up from the chair and brushed past Tony without looking at his face.

As soon as he walked out, Pepper closed the door behind him, and he really, really meant to go somewhere, he even walked a few feet towards the exit, but then went back. What if Tony called him? What if he was gonna tell Pepper, and then he needed him for that conversation? For whatever reason, he sat with his back to the wall, across from their room.

He couldn’t hear them, they weren’t shouting, he wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad sign, but he preferred not to guess. He just sat there for almost two hours until Pepper emerged, Tony right behind her. Peter got to his feet, getting ready to apologize to Pepper and maybe try to explain things, like how nothing happened while she was still with Tony, so she wasn’t cheated on or anything.

He froze on the spot, though, when she turned around and pecked Tony on the lips and left with a casual wave in his direction, leaving the older boy staring at him from across the hall. Peter remained silent, confused by what he had just seen – maybe he had misunderstood what happened, maybe it was just a friendly goodbye?

“Pete.” Tony drew in a breath, like he was about to say something, but then just fell silent.

“What?” He asked, aware that he sounded a little desperate, a little breathless, but he couldn’t help it, his mind was running wild. “What, Tony?” He insisted when the older boy didn’t say anything. He leaned on the doorway, rubbing his face, looking for words – looking for the right words to let him down easy, Peter realized. “Say it. Just say it.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to–“ he started, but Peter cut him off.

“Don’t be a fucking coward, don’t you dare make excuses, just fucking say it!” He took the few steps that separated them to stand right before Tony and the older boy couldn’t avoid looking at him. He looked devastated and lost, like he didn’t want to say the words that came next, but he did it anyway.

“I’m back with Pepper.” Peter felt like he had been punched in the stomach, he felt breathless and like he was about to throw up. He crossed his arms over his chest, like he could hold himself together to prevent falling apart, but couldn’t help the fat tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“And you’re done with me,” he whispered, taking a few steps back. Tony didn’t follow.

“It’s not like that.” He dropped his gaze, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“What is it like, then, Tony?” He insisted, and he knew he was making a scene, he knew he was drawing it out way longer than Tony probably wanted, but if nothing else, he deserved that. Closure. Answers. “What, nothing? Not even a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?’ I’ll take anything, come on.” Predictably, Tony remained silent, eyes cast down. “Did you even tell her about us? Or was I not worth mentioning?”

“I never meant to get you in the middle of this, Pete, which is why I tried so hard not to do anything about – about this uncontrollable pull you have over me, I never meant to hurt you.” He pleaded and there was honesty in his face, in his voice, but still Peter couldn’t believe a word he said.

“Then why are you?”

There was no answer for several minutes, no chase as he walked away.

***

Pepper said sorry, which was new. Usually, whenever they fought, it was always Tony going after her making promises and asking for forgiveness, not the other way around – which was why he honestly, sincerely, genuinely thought they were done for good that time around, because he really had no intention of calling her. He did not count on her coming after him, crying and saying she was in the wrong.

He looked at her that day and he still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He still thought she was the most brilliant person he had ever met, the best friend he had ever had, but – something was off. Different. He listened to her talk about how they could change together, how they could be better for each other, and he wanted that for them – for years, and years, and years, he was so sure they would be together forever, Pepper was it for him, but as he heard her speak about the future, his mind wandered.

He tuned her out as he thought about Peter’s eyes. Not sharp, blue eyes – soft, honey-like brown eyes, paired with an equally soft, boyish smile; pretty, pink lips; blushing, freckled cheeks. He thought about his hair. Not straight, impeccable hair – crazy, wild curls that touched the tip of his ears and the nape of his neck when they were tamed, and pointed in every direction on any given  morning. As Pepper made plans about their future, he thought about the past few weeks. Getting used to the smell of Peter’s skin on his sheets, to the sight of him walking around in his clothes, to the sound of his giggles when Tony said something stupid.

And then he looked at Pepper. The love of his life. Right? The woman he was supposed be with, the girl who stood by his side through all of his teenage years, through thick and thin, who opened her window for him and let him find refuge in her arms when everywhere else felt suffocating. He remembered what being completely and utterly in love with her felt like. All-consuming and blinding  – wasn’t that how love was supposed to be? He wasn’t sure anymore, it wasn’t how he felt about her in a long time, but Peter –

Peter, with his annoyingly cute nose and chirpy, high pitched voice. Tony remembered meeting him for the first time and thinking about all the things he’d do to him if wasn’t with Pepper. He remembered feeling tempted all the fucking time, tempted to reach out and touch him, feel him, fucking smother him with kisses and then pound him into the mattress. But he couldn’t do anything.  He saw the way the boy looked at him, it wasn’t just lust for him, he could tell. He knew that look and he couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Until he did. And it felt good and right, but –

But there was Pepper, looking expectantly at him with tears in her eyes, waiting for an answer. And what else could he say to her?

“Of course, love. I’m sorry for what I said, too. I love you.”

Coming out of that room and facing Peter was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He saw the exact moment when it dawned on him that Tony was leaving him, and it broke his heart. He wanted to reach out and hold him, console him, but he knew he wouldn’t be welcome, so he just stood there, kept his distance, not knowing what to say to make it better.

Peter was avoiding him. Had been for a week. He left the room early in the morning and only came back late at night, never saying a word to him. Their friends noticed, but they stopped asking when Tony snapped at Bruce, telling him it was none of his goddamned business. Natasha kicked him in the balls two days after he broke up with Peter – was it weird that he was relieved to feel pain? He felt like he finally got what he deserved, even though he couldn’t walk for hours after that.

They were only a week away from the summer break and Tony had hope that maybe a few months apart would be enough to heal some of the wounds. But he just couldn’t help thinking about the summer they wouldn’t have, the road trip they wouldn’t take, the snuggles he wouldn’t get in Peter’s tiny bed in Queens.

Now, more than ever, he dreaded going home.

*

“Holy fuck, is that Parker?” Someone shouted over the music, the person sounded drunk and amused, the mention of Peter’s name had Tony turning away from the beer-pong match to search the crowd for the familiar face. The party was in full swing, loud and annoying pop music was playing in the background, the lights were off and the only thing illuminating the rooms were the street lights coming in through the open windows and the red lights scattered around the frat house. Tony looked in the general direction of the living room and almost fell on his butt in surprise when he saw that scene.

World class asshole Quentin Beck sat on the couch with a lap full of a clearly drunk Peter, the boy was kissing him sloppily and grinding against him like there was no tomorrow, and Beck kept smirking and running his filthy paws all over his thighs and hips, until finally they grabbed Peter’s ass cheeks and squeezed, pulling him closer.

People were howling and cat-calling, at least two assholes – Flash and Osborne – were filming the whole thing with their phones, Peter seemed completely unaware of what was going on all around him – he’d be mortified if he was sober, he was so shy, he hated drawing attention to himself, he’d never do any of that in front of so many people. So of course Tony had to intervene, no matter how mad the younger boy was at him.

“Get your hands off of him!” He shouted, grabbing Peter by the arm and yanking him away from Beck. For at least ten seconds, everything went silent except for the music, everyone went quiet, watching the scene, as Beck’s face went from confused to pissed off. Before he could say anything, though, Peter beat him to the punch.

“Get your hands off of me, Tony! What do you think you’re doing!?” He yelled, trying to free his thin wrist from his strong grip, but the older boy didn’t let him go. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Peter go back to that – that disgusting excuse of a man’s arms. He deserved better.

“Shut up, you’re drunk, you’ll thank me tomorrow.” He barely spared him a glance, still holding his  wrist tight, then he turned to Beck. “And you stay away from him, you piece of shit.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Stark? You’re not his dad, if he wants to ride my dick right here in front of everybody, what is it to you?” He got up from the couch and got all up in Tony’s face, which would be more than enough to make him lose his shit on any given day, but the way he talked about Peter only served to fuel his rage.

He didn’t even think, he pulled his arm back the punched his nose with all of his weight, sending him right back to the couch, blood gushing down his face.

“Motherfucker!” Then all hell broke loose.

Tony wasn’t sure about the particulars of what happened, it happened so fucking fast, one minute he was staring at Beck’s bloody face, the next he was being punched in the gut by one of his friends – Osborne, maybe – as someone held him from behind. Rodhey came to his rescue, pushing the guy who was punching him, then Steve and Bucky showed up to help, Beck got up from the couch and they all started throwing punches and kicks and he was pretty sure he ended up kicking Rogers in the face at some point, but –

“Stop! Fucking stop! What the fuck are you doing!?” Peter got in between him and Beck, pushing both of their chests, and Tony stopped immediately, afraid to hurt him, but Beck didn’t even care, landing a blow on his eye and Peter fell backwards right into Bucky’s arms. Tony was sure he was unconscious, the force of the impact mixed with his drunken state were enough to make him lose conscience. He turned back to Beck even more pissed.

“You’re a dead man, you motherfucker!”

Again, he had no idea how long the whole thing lasted, he was way too pissed and way too drunk to keep track, but at some point they were all kicked out of the house. Beck and his goons scurried away, and Tony kept shouting that next time he saw them he’d fucking murder them.

“Tony, stop, Peter is hurt, we have to take him back to the dorms.” Steve looked worried and Tony quickly turned to look at Bucky, who still had Peter in his arms. He was out could, his damp curls covered his forehead and part of his eyebrows, but he could see a purple bruise forming and swelling on his right eye.

“Fuck, is he okay? Should he be sleeping? Should we take him to the hospital?” He was sure he sounded frantic and desperate, but Rhodey just rolled his eyes.

“He’s fine, Tony, it was just a punch, despite what you believe, Peter is not a delicate flower, he will survive. Come on, he just needs to sleep it off. He’s gonna feel like shit in the morning, though.” Rhodey gestured towards Tony’s sports car and Bucky and Steve headed in that direction with Peter. Before Tony could follow, though, Rhodey held him back. “Tony, what the fuck was that, man?”

“What do you mean? Did you not see what that idiot was doing to Peter?” He looked at his best friend as if he had grown a second head.

“He seemed to be enjoying it just fine, Tony, why the hell did you get in the middle of that?” He was trying to keep it down, but he was clearly agitated.

“He wasn’t enjoying it! He wasn’t – he wouldn’t – he was too fucking drunk to consent! And – and they were mocking him! Filming him, making jokes, and – and –” Tony wasn’t unreasonable, he did the right thing, he would have done it again, no matter what Rhodey said.

“Okay, okay, you don’t need to convince me what you did was completely okay, I’m surprisingly used to your shit, but you will have to convince Pepper and Peter that this shit you pulled wasn’t absolutely ridiculous and uncalled for.” He stabbed a finger in his chest and walked away towards Tony’s car, as the other teen ran his hands through his hair, huffing.  

“Fuck me.”

*

It was way past noon when Peter woke up the next day and Tony winced just to watch him try to open his eyes. He had made sure that the drapes were closed so the room was mostly dark, but Peter’s left eye was swollen shut, his head was most certainly killing him. Tony got up from his bed, grabbed the Advil and the glass of water he’d set aside for the younger man and rushed to his side.

“Hey, Pete, how’s the head?” He whispered, sitting beside him on his bed. The night before, by the time they managed to get back to the dorms, Peter was awake again. He reluctantly let Tony give him a shower to sober up some, but refused vehemently when the offered to sleep in his bed in case he needed anything during the night. They didn’t have a chance to talk, though. They hadn’t talked in over a week, actually.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck,” he muttered, deciding not to open his eyes after all.

“Here, take some Advil.” Tony helped him raise his head a little and placed the pill on his tongue, washing it down with a little of water. Peter rested back against the pillow and fell silent again, the older boy wasn’t sure if he’d fallen back asleep. He watched the angelic face for a minute, the same rage that filled him the day before burned inside him again as he observed the horrible bruise marring his face. He was gonna kill Beck, sure, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. “How much do you remember about yesterday?” He whispered, in case Peter was sleeping, but the younger man opened his good eye and stared at Tony.

“Everything,” he answered, just as quietly as Tony had spoken. The older boy dropped his gaze, gulping, thinking about new ways to apologize to Peter, it seemed these days he was always trying to apologize and trying to make things better between them. “Why did you do that, Tony?”

“Didn’t you hear the way he talked about you?” Tony frowned, Peter couldn’t be serious.

“I did, and I’m a big boy, I can handle myself, I don’t need you to throw punches to protect my honor,” he whispered, rubbing at his forehead, and Tony was reminded not to raise his voice.

“He was taking advantage of you,” he argued, watching Peter narrow his good eye.

“He wasn’t,”

“Did you want to sleep with him?” His voice came out higher and louder than he meant, which made Peter wince.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, staring straight at Tony.

“Okay, fine, then, do what you will.” He got up from Peter’s bed and started pacing the floor, Peter couldn’t be fucking serious, he couldn’t – he was a virgin just a few weeks earlier, now, what, he was willing to fuck any brainless dick who came on to him?

“Yeah, I fucking will, I don’t need your permission, asshole,” he actually raised his voice a little and, fuck, Tony had no fucking right to fucking – Peter wasn’t his.

“Fine, whatever, see if I care.” He stalked to the door, slamming it loudly on his way out.

*

Pepper didn’t want to drive home, let alone make a road trip out of it, she wanted to be in New York as soon as possible, so she bought a plane ticked for an early fight on the first day of summer break and Tony woke at ass o’clock in the morning to drive her to the airport.

As he got dressed, he watched Peter sleep. He didn’t hear him come in the night before, he hadn’t seen him in a few days, but somehow he was all packed up to go home. Tony begged Natasha to tell him his plans and she reluctantly told him that he would take the 11AM bus back to New York.

He felt like an asshole, couldn’t stop thinking about their last conversation, how he managed to hurt the younger boy even more, he didn’t even think it was possible. He wanted to apologize, but every time he approached him, he walked away, pretended he didn’t even see him. His eye had healed some, it was still blue-ish, but at least it wasn’t swollen anymore.

That morning, the first day of summer break, the day they were supposed to leave for their road trip, he slept peacefully and Tony envied him. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.

He finished getting dressed then went to pick Pepper up. He helped her put her bags in the truck and started driving, as she talked about all she had planned for the summer. Family dinners with the Potts, family dinners with the Starks, galas – for networking purposes, according to her –, a weekend at her parents’ house in the Hamptons and few parties with their old friends from school – Rhodey was coming, too.

Somehow, he wasn’t looking forward to any of that, not even a little bit. He kept thinking how he’d rather spend his days in a tiny bed in Queens, cuddling, eating pizza, building Legos and laughing at nothing in particular.

“Tony, are you listening to me?” When he turned to look at Pepper, he realized they had arrived at the airport, his car was parked and he had been staring into nothing for a few seconds. “I said give me a call when you get home, okay?” She was looking at him a little worriedly, a frown on her forehead, and he didn’t want to call her when he arrived, he didn’t even want to go home, not without Peter.

“I think I don’t love you anymore.” He told her, bluntly, then felt like an asshole when she pulled back like she’d been punched in the face. “I’m so sorry.”

“You think so or you know so?” She asked, and she didn’t look surprised, just – disappointed. Exhausted.

“I know so,” he whispered, watching her sigh as she stared out the windshield. He hated that lately he seemed to be breaking the hearts of everyone he loved. His life was a mess, he was a mess, and no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing, he always seemed to get it wrong.

“I guess I’ve known that for a while. Just didn’t want to believe it was true.” Her face was dry and her voice was steady, but he’d known her for way too long to be be fooled.

“Me neither.” He whispered, gripping the wheel and looking at his lap. It was silent for several minutes, he didn’t know what to say to her, everything sounded wrong and patronizing in his head.  

“I have a plane to catch,” she finally said, opening the door, and without thinking, Tony’s hand flew to hold her arm.

“Can we talk? Later?” He pleaded, fucking terrified that her answer would be no. They were friends for so long, he couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in his life. She gave him a sweet, small smile, though.

“Yeah, sure.” Pepper made to get out of the car again, but the older boy stopped her one more time.  

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him and he took a deep breath.

“I do love you, you know that right? Just –“

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

*

Tony drove back like a madman, heart pounding, thinking of the things he needed to say to Peter, the right words to mend the things that were broken. When he got to their room, though, at around 9AM, it was empty, Peter was nowhere to be found. In his panic, he didn’t even notice that his bags were still by the bed, he thought he’d left already, left without him. He ran his hands through his hair and turned around, ready rush outside and look for Natasha and beg her to tell him where Peter had gone, maybe could still reach him, but when he did, he saw the younger boy standing in the doorway.

“Pete,” he cried in relief, but the brunette was still giving him the cold shoulder, so he didn’t say anything, just headed towards his desk and started gathering some books. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’ve said that already.” He didn’t even turn to look at Tony, so the older boy walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I fucked up.” His hand slid down Peter’s lean, toned bicep, tugging it softly to turn him around. He did, albeit reluctantly.

“Tell me something new.” When he finally looked at Tony, he pretended to be bored, but the older boy could see in his eyes that he was curious.

“I shouldn’t have left you. I made a mistake, I thought –“ Before Tony could go on, Peter started laughing incredulously, eyes wide.

“What, has Pepper dumped you already?! I thought you guys had three months long cycles, at least, this is a new record.” He shook his head, turning back to his desk. “I’m not playing your game anymore, go find somebody else to string along.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” Tony grabbed him again, trying to get him to turn, but Peter yanked his arm away.

“Tough luck, then. I gotta go.” He ignored the rest of the things on the desk and hurried to his bags by the bed.

“Peter, please. I made a mistake.” Tony placed himself in front of the bags with his hands up, trying to buy some more time, and Peter huffed impatiently.

“What happens when you wake up tomorrow and realize I’m the mistake?” He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the older boy. “I trusted you, I gave you everything and you took it for granted, you just fucking up and left when Pepper snapped her fingers. Seriously, Tony, do you even know what you’re asking me?”

“That’s not – I’m – Pete, come on. I’m only asking for a second chance. That’s all.” He begged, trying to hold the younger boy’s hands, but he stepped away. Peter was fucking right and if he had any sense of self respect, he would not get back together with Tony, but fuck, he had to try. He had to try, because Peter was right, he was fucking right for him.

“And I’m saying no, Tony. I don’t trust you not to hurt me again.” He shook his head, arms firmly crossed over his chest.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Tony insisted, trying to get closer to the younger boy, but every step he took forward, Peter took a step back.

“Then what are you asking?” He tilted his head to the side, mouth set in a straight line, and Tony sighed, running his hands through his hair almost desperately. What the fuck was he asking?

“I’m asking you to let me drive you home.” He blurted out, still trying to approach Peter, and he was finally successful when he got trapped between Tony and his desk.

“And then what?” He raised his chin, defiantly, and Tony dared to touch the side of his face gently. Peter didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into the touch either.

“And then let me show you that I’m serious about you, that despite the fact that I’m a fucking mess and nothing in my life makes sense or feels right, you do. You do, you fall into place and fit all the empty spaces and you make me feel whole and less of a train wreck. I know I fucked up and I hurt you and I broke the trust you placed in me, and I’m not asking for you to forget what I did and go right back to where we were, I’m just asking for a second chance to start over. I promise I’m not gonna need a third, I fucking swear. Please. Please. Let me drive you home.”

Tony knew he sounded desperate, and that was because he was. That was the most open he had even been about his feelings and he suddenly remembered Pepper’s words from their last fight. “You’re gonna end up alone, Tony, I mean it. If you don’t learn how to let others in, you’ll be lonely and bitter, and it’s gonna be all your own damn fault!” Tony didn’t want to be alone. And he didn’t want to swallow his feelings anymore. He just needed Peter to see that he was willing to try, that he wanted to change.

The younger man looked at him with wide eyes, apparently surprised by Tony’s honesty and the amount of words he had vomited. He bit his bottom lip and averted his gaze. Tony dropped his hand from his face and took a few steps back, sensing his answer, and maybe Peter was doing the right thing for himself, nobody deserved to be caught in the middle of Tony’s fucking mess, no one should have to deal with –

“I get to drive your car at least two hours a day.” The boy muttered, raising his eyes to meet his gaze again, and Tony’s heart raced.

“Yes, of course, as many hours as you want.” He nodded several times, not sure what exactly he was agreeing to.

“We’ll get separate beds at each motel we stop. No funny business until I say so.” Tony thought he might throw up from excitement, he kept nodding like a moron, as he stepped closer, but Peter kept a straight face, although there was a slight, barely there tilt to his lips.

“Obviously, yeah. Sure.” Tony stopped right before the younger boy and he leaned his head back a little to look him in the eyes.

“If you’re staying over with me back home, you’ll have to sleep on the floor, no snuggling in my bed.” He poked his chest with a finger and Tony’s face fell.

“But I –“

“Tony!”

“Yes, sir, whatever you want, yes. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He quickly agreed, trying not to push his luck, and that seemed to appease the younger boy, who gave him a satisfied nod. Tony just stood there, right in front of him, and so fucking close he could almost taste his sweet skin on his lips. “Is that all?”

“If you break my heart again, I’m sicking Nat on you.” Again, he poked a finger in his chest and Tony readily grabbed his skinny hand, holding it to his heart.

“Deal, I promise you won’t have to do that, I won’t disappoint you.” He stared right into Peter’s eyes and tried to make him see how much he meant every word. “Can I kiss you now?”

Peter looked at him for a few seconds, before leaning up to kiss him. Tony eagerly closed his eyes, hands falling to his waist to hold him close, when he felt those soft, thin lips touching his cheek, just to the side of his anxious mouth.

“Ask me again in a couple of days.” When Tony opened his eyes again, Peter was grinning as he pulled away and, yeah, Tony could wait his whole fucking life to kiss him again. “C’mon, let’s go, you did promise to take me home.”

As he watched the younger boy gathering his stuff to leave, his heart was filled with a weird feeling, something he wasn’t used too. It took him a while to realize he was happy and fucking excited to go  with him. For the first time ever, he didn’t dread going home.

“It’s not over tonight

Just give me one more chance to make it right

I may not make it through the night

I won't go home without you"

(Maroon 5 – Won’t go home without you)

[aaluminiumas]

Merry Christmas Chopper

Time flows differently at sea, especially on the Grand Line: the weather in this part of the world never followed the ordinary calendar people had outside the ocean, so a blizzard in the middle of the summer wouldn’t surprise anyone. The climate depended on the island itself, and the inhabitants stuck to their specific routine maintained throughout the years: the holidays of the Fish-Men didn’t coincide with those of the Minks thus a lucky traveler may get a chance to become acquainted with rituals and traditions of all races.

The Straw Hat Pirates had already seen a lot. That’s why Nami yearning for Christmas she last celebrated a couple of years ago, made sure that the ship steered for another Winter Island and then ordered to throw a real party. Initially, only two latched on the idea: Sanji who agreed to do anything offered by Nami, and Robin, as usual peacefully calm, whose multiple hands immediately embarked to festoon Sunny. Luffy seemed to worried about one thing only – whether they were going to have meat; Zoro followed his Captain’s suit and asked about drinks – again, following Luffy’s suit, he got punched in the head and crawled away with gloomy grumbling. As a result of the powerful blow, the swordsman deigned to hang a garland over his mat on the deck. Sanji waspishly advised not to remove it in the future in order to define the borders of the improvised botanical garden and what is the vantage point to feast the eyes upon the ugliest plant.

While Brook, Usopp and Franky were trying to part the fighters to the rippling laughter of their Captain, Chopper took advantage of the common turmoil and ran over to Nami. He had first-hand knowledge of Christmas: as resident of a Winter Island, he often celebrated the holiday. Even when other reindeer atrociously lambasted him, he kept believing in miracles and never doubted Santa and his presents. However, the presents weren’t the main concern: absolutely unspoiled, he was waiting for some other guest – the red-nosed reindeer, Rudolph, who was claimed to have been mocked himself. Since childhood he swore he would stay up till morning to see Santa and his famous sleigh; he was sure he would talk to Rudolph in the animal language asking how he managed to take the lead, to turn his flaw into an assert and to overcome the sneers. Unfortunately, Chopper kept falling asleep – and woke up with bitter frustration written upon the snout. Later in the morning he disappeared in his lab and crammed another book borrowed from shrewd Kureha who unexpectedly failed to grasp what ate him away every winter so desperately.

Nami wasn’t paying attention to the skirmish between the cook and the swordsman: she continued decorating her tangerine trees and enlaced the boughs with colored garlands even though they hadn’t yet reach the island.

“Nami,” Chopped called in a low voice awkwardly tapping his hooves against each other and snuffling, “Is… Santa coming to us?”

Puzzled by the question, the navigator nodded.

“Of course, Chopper. Santa comes to all good kids… and adults. To the bad ones too,” she narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and slowly turned her head in the direction of the bickering friends. “But there is not enough coal for those in the whole world. It’s easier to send them to a mine.”

“Are there deer, too?” he went on, still meek and at the same time more enthusiastic. “Or is he traveling by ship? He can’t get here by his sleigh, right?..”

Nami looked at him, clearly perplexed: she wasn’t ready for such questions; practically deprived of childhood herself, she never had illusions as to Santa’s personality but the girl didn’t venture to shatter her friend’s faith in this mythological figure. To her Christmas was a day when she could finally express her gratitude and affection towards all the crew members (and to get a nice present for her outstanding navigation skills) but for Chopper it was an evening of miracles and didn’t want to wreck it all.

“Doctor-san,” Robin suddenly came to rescue with her low voice pierced with confidence, “his sleigh runs across the sky, not by the sea. Why would he need a ship if it is safer to travel above multiple dangers of the Grand Line?”

The archeologist’s words mollified the reindeer: his large woeful eyes beamed in a heartbeat. If Nami was able to fib a little, Robin would rather remain silent or elude.

“Don’t you happen to know,” Chopper hesitated for another moment rattling his hooves again, “when is he coming? I would… I would love to just have a peep… at Rudolph. I heard that he was… different from others. Just like me. But I have a blue nose…”

Even if Robin was taken aback, she didn’t reveal her astonishment in the slightest: her face remained serene and tranquil. With a small apologetic smile upon the lips, the woman shook her head and adorned his tiny antlers with a garland interwoven with a sparkling tinsel.

“Unfortunately, Doctor-san, I cannot give you a proper answer to that. The number of good kids changes from year to year, and he has to pay a visit to them all. But I am certain this time he will stay a little longer: after all, you have done so many good things that you deserve a special present.”

Encouraged by the praise, Chopper was about to start dancing: the reindeer still couldn’t get used to the fact that he was genuinely loved and cherished even though aloof and unsociable Law tended to commend him every once in a while. And if Nami expressed her emotions in quite a ribald way, Robin tried to find the right approach to everyone not resorting to punches and manipulations – even a rejection didn’t sound adamant though her voice was always firm.

“Then,” the doctor scratched his blue nose, “If you see him… can you please wake me up? I promise not to fall asleep but,” here he got embarrassed completely, “Every year I just pass out and… I would love to…”

“Of course Doctor-san,” Robin interrupted him soflty, “We’ll be on guard.”

“Don’t worry Chopper,” Nami bolstered her friend, “A mouse won’t slip by Zoro, let alone an old man with a flock of deer. We’ll take care of it!”

As soon as their inspired friend rushed to his little laboratory equipped with all the necessary things for his endless experiments, Nami crossed her arms in the chest staring at Robin with a suspicious grimace on the visage.

“I certainly love your idea,” she muttered in a low voice, “But what is that you suggest us doing? We cannot steal a deer, put a red nose on it and introduce it as Rudolph. I couldn’t even think that he’s so…”

“Flustered? Excited? This is quite obvious,” the woman adjusted a glossy purple ball on the tangerine branch so its ribbon didn’t cover the image. “He doesn’t really have someone… to share his experience with. Whether we want it or not, we… do not fully understand him.”

“So what are we supposed to do? To turn ourselves into deer?” said Nami sarcastically. “Can’t even imagine myself… this way. I’m no doe. What kind of doe… would I be?..”

“The most beautiful doe in the world, Nami-swan! You will be the most charming female deer in th–”

Robin chuckled: Sanji didn’t manage to accomplish his laudatory ode as he got maimed which nonetheless failed to cool him down.

“You’re just in time, Sanji-kun,” the woman smiled thus provoking another bout of jitter. “Do you know the legend about Rudolph the Deer?”

Soon enough the whole crew began to arrange the Christmas party for Chopper. Nami, as usual, was in charge: she succeeded to draw attention to the discussion by heavy blows and threatening stares while Robin put forward various proposals that seemed suitable. Luffy only comprehended that Chopper ‘had some wrong Christmas’ and offered to pile the deer with presents but the idea implying a thousand of meat dishes didn’t sit well with the rest of the crew. Zoro supported his Captain on the topic of presents but added on his own behalf: let the swirlybrow make a present to them all by locking himself up in the kitchen throughout the celebration. Sanji pledged to cut the swordsman in pieces and feed seagulls, deprecated. Brook proposed to compose a song – and Robin’s hands writing down more or less reasonable suggestions, started jotting something in her notebook.

“Why not write him a letter?” exclaimed Usopp out of the blue. “It won’t replace Rudolph of course but… at least we will show we care about him.”

“And then he’ll eventually understand that Marimo is a good-for-nothing sentinel who hasn’t heard the thud of the hooves,” Sanji noticed melancholically, lighting another cigarette. “What a remarkably useless plant. Shall we toss it overboard?”

“I don’t need my swords to beat the shit out of you,” hissed Zoro flaring up. “Damn you, ero-cook!..”

It didn’t take much time to put things in apple pie order and reassert the breached discipline: Nami scattered the two in different directions, and both the swordsman and the cook rubbed their heads and squabbled in hushed voices not to instigate the navigator who seemed to like Usopp’s offer.

The preparations lasted for the whole day: Robin sneaked into the farthest corner of the deck to write the letter; Sanji wearing a funny apron garnished the desserts with cotton candy. As for Zoro, he had risked to get a carver knife between the eyes and now imitated some frenzied activity – according to the cook, it was ‘frenzied enough to outshine the quickest algae drifting with the stream’. Brook, laughing, was playing a song by ear while Usopp was wrapping the presents. Nami kept things tidy: she prevented Luffy from pushing his nose into every single box he saw. Franky, though, took care of it himself: he had cut out several wooden boxes for various trinkets. Now he improved his invention and fit locks into them – exclusively by the navigator’s request so eager to keep the spirit of Christmas. Albeit none of the tasks looked hard to finish, they appeared to be time-consuming, so none of the pirated noticed when and how the warm climate gave way to pleasant frost and slight snowfall.

Chopper went out to the deck only in the evening and started perusing snowflakes, so brittle and peculiar that they seemed to be knitted. They sank into his auburn fur and didn’t melt at all as if they morphed into a scintillating garland. Back at home they looked less fragile and yet bigger; accustomed to blizzards and cold, he learnt to ignore them and now, after all those visits to hot countries, a simply snowstorms morphed into a hibernal miracle.

He remembered the first time he saw himself in the reflection of the frozen river. He remembered his resentment for himself, that blue nose, and roared smashing whatever he could smash. He remembered how he nuzzled into white and fluffy snow hoping that the color of the nose would alter, and he, Chopper, would be just like others.

He also recollected the frosty redolence Hululuk’s fur coat exuded; he recalled Kureha’s perfume mingled with the fragrance of the wind. Her hands were always tender and smelled ice while Hululuk reminded him of the first snowflakes’ scent. It dawned upon him how much he actually could reminisce: that cheerful laughter, ridiculous stories the Doctor used to tell, and those midnight talks – they spoke about everything in the world. It was almost eternity ago when Chopper lost his best friend – and they still had so much to discuss. Hiluluk always supported him, and, probably in his own manner, taught the little reindeer to keep his head up.

“Merry Christmas,” a familiar gentle voice came; Chopper sharply turned in the direction of the sound and instantly noticed a figure he knew so well: it was a tad shorter than he remembered and moved angularly but the kind smile and warm eyes made everything clear. It was exactly the person who encouraged Chopper to become a doctor.

“Doctor Hiluluk!” the reindeer darted towards the man feeling he was barely able to squelch the tears that were about gush out from the eyes. “Doctor Hiluluk!.. How did you..? You are...”

The intruder laughed in a low tone and embraced his friend caringly.

“You’ve become so big and strong,” the doctor patted Chopper by the shoulder, “Are you happy with them?.. I’ve heard a lot about you, Chopper. I am exceedingly proud of you. You have become a talented physician. You are definitely second to none.”

The little reindeer didn’t release his friend – and almost ignored the praise. Millions of questions were swarming in his head but he didn’t hurry to ask them. Hiluluk didn’t insist on a decent conversation: he kept smiling looking at the reindeer cursing himself for the cruelty he had shown in the past. How could throw him out sugarcoating his atrocity and calling it care? Why didn’t he tell the truth letting Chopper make his own decision whether to stick around or to deal with his own life? Yes, that notorious quack felt ashamed and couldn’t disappoint his friend, but at the moment, after all those years, he finally realized that it may have been the only blunder he regretted so much. If he could turn back time, nothing of it would have happened.

“They do love you,” the guest drawled squatting before Chopper. “And protect you too. I am glad to know that you have found a family… despite everything. I am so sorry that I cannot be near.”

“But you are here!” the reindeer exclaimed blinking his watery eyes. “I’ll introduce you to my nakamas. They’ll like, I assure you! Sanji will cook the pies you are so fond of, Brook will sing for you, you’ll talk to Robin and–”

With a sad smile on the lips Hiluluk shook his head.

“Alas, it won’t do.” He sighed heavily. “You have a different life now… But,” he straightened up, “I have a little surprise for you, Chopper. I know who you are waiting for. Unfortunately, he cannot…”

Robin’s soft hand touched the glossy fur. Flummoxed, Nami noticed that Chopper finally awoke and placed a small box near the adoze reindeer: it was different from those that Franky had created. This one had incised ornaments and a carving of a certain mushroom on the lid. Still sleepy, Chopper kept staring at the present: did someone do that specifically for him?

“Open it, Doctor-san. This undoubtedly belongs to you.”

Robin’s honeyed mellow voice seemed to have pushed him, and the little hooves lifted the lid. Inside, there was a handful of pink powder – the same powder his friend had been working on, – and a letter with a stamp of a deer hoof. The whole crew gathered around: Usopp failed to wake him up, and panicked alarming the rest – even Zoro, normally apathetic and detached, scowled and rushed to rescue.

The whole ship was emblazoned and festooned. Nami had cleared the place underneath her tangerines, and now neatly wrapped presents were peacefully lying there revealing the cards written in Usopp’s and Franky’s untidy yet diligent hands. Sanji was serving cocoa with little cloud of marshmallow. Exclusively for Chopper he had created rosy petals of cotton candy. Robin, normally calm, adjusted bows, knots and decorations striving to make everything look like a picture. The evergreen lawn where the crew used to sprawl and relax, turned white: no one even tried to get rid of the glistening snow which reflected all Sunny’s embers and glimmers.

“Merry Christmas, Chopper,” Nami flashed him a broad smile.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted both Zoro and Sanji and looked daggers at each other.

“Su-u-u-u-u-u-per-r-r-r-r Christmas!” Franky struck a pose raising both his arms in the air.

“Mefwy Fuwissmas!” pronounced Luffy proudly munching on the ham he’d just stolen from the kitchen. A sound of Sanji’s powerful kick muffled another sentence he was about to utter.

“We love you, Chopper!” candidly declared Usopp.

“Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!.. Merry Christmas, Chopper-san. Thank you for suturing our wounds! Though… yo-ho-ho… I don’t have skin to be sutured! Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

The little reindeer sniveled. Probably he should let his past go – to let it get dispersed in a blur of pink petals.

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 17: Epilogue

Masterlist

Tag list: @rollyjogerjones

A/N: This is it. This is the end. I wrote a little message for all of you to read, it would mean a lot if you did.

When I began this story a few days after Christmas, I wrote it on a whim. The story brewed in my mind for perhaps a max week before I began writing it. The original idea was inspired a lot by Big Fish the Musical, the musical I was in, in early December. I remember I used to write day after day and could get a chapter up daily, until around the sixth or seventh chapter. I can’t quite tell you how I did it, but I know if I hadn’t gotten that far so quickly, I would have never finished this story, it would have been added to my never ending pile of unfinished WIP’s. The Ballads of Rebirth was supposed to go in an entirely different direction that I had planned, Lee and Arthur’s feud was supposed to be way worse and bitter, and would have ended up with Arthur beating up Lee. Lee was supposed to be much more of an antagonist in the final chapters, a way worse of a person, but I couldn’t do it to him. In many ways, he was flawed, he was selfish at times and quick to judge, but he was still loving and goofy. I know people were not going to like him, they were rooting for Arthur after all. But I still love Lee, he was my first official rdr2 oc, my first fully fleshed out character. Quite frankly, I didn’t really ‘know’ who he was until I continued writing it, I had no personality built out for him until I began writing, and I just chose what felt right. That’s what happens with a lot of my stories, I write what feels right (which usually leads to plot holes because I don’t write shit down). But regardless, I love Lee, and I hope you’re satisfied with the ending I gave him.

There were a few times that I thought about giving up, that my story was absolute shit, that my plot holes were too confusing and my narrative was weak, and I was close to quitting. Until people began asking me when the new chapters would be out, what would happen next. While the numbers may be small, the dedication is what kept me going. And yeah, maybe my story isn’t the biggest rdr2 fic, maybe it’s not talked about in discord servers, but I don’t care, all that matters is that the fans that have stayed have shown me that I should continue writing, that there are people rooting for this story. I know, my story is full of plot holes, I know people don’t like Lee (which I’ll forever be bitter about), I know my story has grammatical errors, I know maybe I shouldn’t have killed off Mahala, I know there’s a lot I could have done, but there’s a lot I still did. As much as I think my story is weak, I’m still proud of the fact that I made it, that it is my own, that I created it and stuck through.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you could have done, it’s what you did. And that’s more valuable in many ways. Creating anything is powerful, and The Ballads of Rebirth taught me that.

So thank you, to every commentator, every person who left a like or kudo, every person who left an ask in my inbox, and especially everyone who complimented my writing style (which is apparently unique? and also these comments are a huge ego boost to me so if I’m cocky, it’s those peoples fault). Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed what I made.

I know I did.

••

Here Are Some Songs That Inspired This Story

1. Setting Sun - Lord Huron (Main inspiration)

2. Prologue - Starry (What I consider to be the main theme)

3. Sunlight and Storms - Starry (Inspiration for Lee and Reader’s relationship)

4. The Road - Starry (yeah.. I know there’s lots of Starry, but regardless, Arthur’s arc inspiration)

5. After The War - Stars (wow lots of star-esque things, Epilogue inspiration, I recommend listening to it while reading this)

•••

PS. The AU ending will be posted with the main story, as I realized many of you may not see it otherwise.

•••

Time passed quickly and solemnly. Life was peaceful and quiet. And you loved every second of it. After you and Arthur had left Richfield in search of the life you had lost, you and your husband had found it with Charles, in a small cottage down the road from him. Charles was happy to see you and Arthur returned to him.

And life was quiet, for a long time it was. You heard nothing of Micah and Dutch, the Pinkerton’s had stopped searching, it seemed the outlaw way had died out long ago too. You were scared Arthur or you would somehow slip back into it. you would blink and suddenly be pulled back into the life you so desperately tried to avoid, but the pull never came. The older you got, the lesser and lesser that percentage became.

The people of Wapiti had long since moved. You visited Mahala’s grave frequently, and thanked her for bringing Arthur back to you. You were sure you would have liked her.

You thanked Charles too, for being quick to find him. It was strange to think that without Charles’ swift action, Arthur would not be here today. Instead, you would be visiting his grave instead of Mahala’s.

John was exceptionally pleased to hear Arthur was still alive. Abigail wrote frequently to you for many years, you missed her dearly, but you had faith you would be reunited once more.

“Honey?” You called out to the doorway behind you.

“G’morning. I got what you asked me to pick up,” Arthur replied. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. He placed the box down at the table.

“Thank you. Breakfast is almost ready,” You said, scrambling some eggs on top of the stove. Arthur came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Someone’s touchy today,” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Missed you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck.

“You were gone for a day.”

“I’m not allowed to miss my dear wife?” He pretended to sound hurt.

“Not when you’re distracting me,” You replied nonchalantly, continuing to prepare the omelettes.

Arthur laughed heartily in your ear. “I give up then,” he said, removing his hold from your waist and putting his hands up in defeat.

“It’s almost ready, sit down.” You put the finishing touches on the omelettes and put them on plates. Arthur sat down at the small table while you fetched some forks. You stared through the window while your hands grabbed two forks, seeing the daffodils on the window, Arthur had bought for you a few days earlier.

You walked over to the table and set down the two plates, taking a seat across from Arthur. He grabbed at the plate hungrily and began to eat.

“You sure are hungry.”

“Starvin’. Been a day since I’ve had your lovely cooking,” Arthur smiled at you. You picked up your fork as well and began to eat.

“I forgot the coffee, hold on.” You realized after a few moments and walked over to the countertop to fetch the pot of coffee, pouring two cups for Arthur and you. You made yours how you liked it, and brought cream and sugar over to Arthur.

“Thank you,” He replied to the gesture, grabbing his cup. He put in a few spoonfuls of sugar and some cream, always the one with the sweet tooth.

You sipped your coffee while you ate your breakfast, glancing out towards the front windows. It was a nice day out, clear of clouds with a nice breeze. The garden still needed tending to, but at least later you could sit on the porch with Arthur.

“I invited Charles over for dinner tonight, by the way. I’m making roast beef and potatoes, and maybe an apple pie, I haven’t decided yet,” You shrugged.

“Make blueberry.” Arthur replied, picking up a newspaper from yesterday that was on the table.

“Blueberries aren’t in season.”

“Okay, then raspberry.”

“Not in season either.”

“Really? Well shit. Apple will have to do then.”

“You don’t like my apple pies?”

“What? No, I do! You just make them a lot. I feel like we’re having them every week,” Arthur laughed nervously.

You pretended to glare at him, “Then I’ll never make another apple pie again. You’re getting pie with no filling in all of them now.”

“Now I didn’t say that! I’m just saying, you make apple pies a lot, I like variety sometimes.”

“You lived with the gang for 20 years and ate the same stew for every meal but you’re complaining about me making apple pie once a week?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“That’s why I like variety now. Couldn’t have it for so long, that once I get it I’ll never go back to eating the same thing.”

“Mhm.” You dragged out the sound, nodding sarcastically.

You stared at Arthur, he stared at you, a slight smile on his lips. “Just admit you don’t like my apple pies.”

“Would it make you happy if I said that?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Listen, I like your apple pies, honestly. I just like some variety, that’s all,” He said, attempting to quell your fake anger.

“I’m never making an apple pie ever again,” You replied dramatically, slumping onto the table, reaching your hands out to hold his.

Arthur chucked at your dramatics.

“Just eat your omelette.”

•••

You thought of Lee frequently. Not that you yearned for him, or missed him, you simply wondered how he was doing. And in a way, he had heard your thoughts, after about two years of silence from him, Lee sent a letter.

“You have a letter,” Arthur had said one night when he came back from town, placing the letter on the table in front of you.

“Who’s it from?”

“Lee.”

“Lee sent me a letter?” You asked in disbelief, grabbing the envelope and examining the name on the front. Leroy Rinascita. Clear as day.

(Y/N),

It’s been quite some time since you left Richfield. I hope this letter finds you well. I took a chance and sent a letter to Valentine, a city Arthur had mentioned to me before, so if I don’t hear from you, I assume you’re somewhere else off in the country.

I hope you’re pleased with the choices you made. How is Arthur, by the way? I know we started off on the wrong foot (for good reason) but overall I found him to be a good, kind man. I can tell Arthur makes a good husband. I pray he’s not too angry with how I acted earlier towards him, water under the bridge, right?

I apologize for not sending a letter sooner, or perhaps I’m sorry for even writing this, in case you find this letter strange. I just wanted to know how you are doing. I’m doing well too. I’ve found someone as well who I enjoy very much, they live with me now. I guess you can say we got married, about two months ago actually. It wasn’t a conventional marriage of course. You actually already met them. I’m not sure you would expect who, but for the sake of prying eyes, I won’t reveal who they are in this letter. Other than marriage, life’s been pretty normal. The general store is doing well, there’s some new projects in the city too. A new candy store opened by the pier after the old one unfortunately burned down a few months after you had left. Richfield is bigger now, I feel like it’ll never stop growing. More and more people show up everyday. I barely even know the neighbors names these days.

As for my father, I’m pleased to say he’s still kicking. Somehow, the cancer went away, I couldn’t tell you how, the doctors can’t either. I’m really grateful for you convincing him to stay alive, to stay for me.

Your locket is still with me, I found an old family photo of my father, my mother and Anastasia as a newborn. It was strange to see my mother’s face after so many years, I had nearly forgotten it. I have an older photo of Anastasia too on the other side, my partner isn’t in the locket, only because I see them daily. I don’t need to be reminded that I love them.

But enough talk of me, how are you doing? I know it’s been a while, but I still care about you, and hope to know you’re doing well. Give Arthur a hello for me as well.

Regards,

Lee

You were happy to know Lee still cared, in some horrible nightmare you imagined that he despised you, that you were simply a dark phase in his life. And you were even happier that Lee had found someone and was truly living the life he had wanted. In a way, you were the same as him, both yearning for peace and quiet.

“Lee’s been doing well. I’m glad he sent this letter, he says hello to you, Arthur,” You told him, setting the letter down on the table.

“Good. I’m glad Lee’s doing okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

•••

Even though Beecher’s Hope had many people living off its land, it did not feel crowded. Perhaps it was the sky that made it feel that way, the sky was endless, and when you and your family worked underneath it, it did not feel so small. The sky was infinite.

“Jack, will you go get Anne for me? She’s out by the chicken coop,” You had told the teenager.

“Sure thing, Aunt (Y/N),” He replied, walking towards the front door to fetch Anne for dinner. Although the Marston and Morgan houses were separate, the two families had practically lived in both. Jack was eating over for dinner, John and Abigail claiming you as his babysitter. Not that he needed one — or perhaps Uncle did.

“Arthur? Will you set the table for me, please? I have to go get Anne washed up once Jack brings her in,” You called out to Arthur behind you.

“Sure.” Arthur responded, he picked up the dishes next to you and began placing them on the table.

As you finished up cooking, you heard the shrill voice of Anne calling out to you. You immediately swiveled around as her tiny legs bounced up to you.

“There’s my little one!” You said joyously, she wrapped her arms around your leg and giggled. She was a near carbon copy of Arthur. She had his nose, his eyes, his mouth shape, but she had your hair and complexion. Regardless of who she looked more like — she was yours.

“Mama! I brought you a feather from the chicken coop!” She reached into her tiny dress pocket and pulled out a white feather. It was bigger and heavier than a chicken feather, you wondered what type of bird it was.

“Sorry, Uncle Arthur, she kind of made a mess in the chicken coop,” You heard Jack say to Arthur.

“You did? Oh thank you, sweetie.” You beamed at her, she watched you take it with big proud eyes. You placed the feather in your pocket, it’s long feathers sticking out.

“You’re welcome, mama.” You noticed the dirt on her face and on her knees as she said that. You scooped her up in your arms and took her into the bathroom to wash up.

You set her down next to the sink and began washing her knees with a wet washcloth.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?” You hummed, continuing to scrub the dirt off her knees.

“When is the baby coming?”

“Not for a couple more months.”

“Daddy thinks it’ll be a boy,” She told you matter of factly.

“Daddy thinks lots of things.”

“He told me he’s sure about this one.”

“When did daddy say that?” You asked, dipping the washcloth under the water, beginning to wipe the dirt off her cute face.

“Today. He told me while we were looking for flowers for you.”

“Okay, well, what else did he say?”

“He said he wants to name the baby Henry Hosea.”

You blinked at the name. Henry Hosea did sound nice. After all, Hosea was technically your adoptive father, as well as Arthur’s. Neither of you had really ever brought him up, avoiding that painful topic entirely. And Anne knew nothing of your past occupations, it was a story for another time, when she was older.

“I like the name Hosea,” Anne responded after being met by your silence.

“It’s a nice name,” Your voice nearly breaking. You subdued the tears in your eyes, after all that conversation was for another time.

When you finished cleaning Anne up, you brought her to dinner and sat her down next to Jack. You brought the food out to the table, making sure to put the apple pie right in front of Arthur.

•••

In many ways, time had been kind to you. It had been patient and nurturing, time allowed you a second chance at life.

It had given you the life you had wanted, one full of peace, love and family. Your life was quiet at Beecher’s Hope, filled with no revenge story. Time had dragged out your lesson for many years, but now you were reaping the fruits of your labor.

So now, as you cradle your newborn son, watching Anne and Arthur play in the field, her giggles dancing over the grass. You thank time for being there for you. For giving you what you wanted, for letting you learn to grow. For giving you a family. For returning Arthur to you.

In many ways you were thankful, thankful for the lessons you had learned, thankful for the house you lived in, thankful for the food on your table. Thankful for Mahala, thankful for Lee, thankful for Anne, thankful for Arthur and thankful for your son, Henry Hosea.

A cool breeze swept over the field, causing the grass and flowers to dance in the wind. Anne began to pretend she was a bird and Arthur raced around trying to catch her, both laughing in unison.

You looked down at your newborn son, his eyes closed over his resting face.

“One day I’ll tell you where your name comes from. I’ll tell you all about the life your daddy and I lived. And I’ll tell you about the life I had after that, and I’ll tell you about why I’ll never go back to either. One day I’ll tell you all about it,” You said quietly to your son, a promise to him and time, and no one else.

And in the end there was a man and a woman, and a daughter and a son, living to the world, thankful for every moment they get to spend with each other.

And Mother Nature rejoiced, for the man on the mountain and the woman in the city had found each other.

••• The End •••

[container-of-apple-juice]

So I wrote something for “The Worst Three-Legged Race.” Because, ykno, queer baiting. I’m queer, I took the bait, I wanted them to experience genuine feelings instead of a shitty joke-kiss, yadda yadda here’s some awkward genin feelings.

This is immediately after the episode ends, their hands are stuck together in a chakra ball, you know what’s up.

(1,825 words)

[[MORE]]

It wasn’t going to get easier any time soon, this Sasuke was sure of. Naruto had managed to settle down after their mission report once Kakashi Sensei and Sakura had taken turns feeding him ramen (Sasuke still had use of his dominant hand and, frankly, wouldn’t be caught dead being spoon fed).

But now, alone in Naruto’s apartment past sunset, came the upheaval of just how awkward things were destined to be for the next three days together.

Three. Whole. Days. AND nights.

Sasuke sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his brows scrunch together and downward for what felt like the millionth time since the crook had sealed their hands together with his unique (and frustratingly solid) chakra.

Kakashi sensei had the good grace to walk them back to Naruto’s apartment (Sasuke had yet to have another living soul join him on his family’s compound following the massacre and he’d be damned if NOW of all times was going to be the time he broke that trend) but once he disappeared from the scene in a flash of smoke, the boys were left alone in the entryway of the dark apartment.

“So, uh, usually I just leave my shoes over here-“ Naruto began to move down the small corridor, already knowing well enough to wait a brief moment for Sasuke to catch on to his movements so as to not send the other boy jerking along behind him.

Once they rounded the corner, just a few feet away from the door Naruto removed his shoes and waited for Sasuke to follow suit.

After that, well…it became very clear that Naruto had absolutely no plan for the evening. Which didn’t surprise Sasuke in the slightest, seeing as this whole bound-at-the-wrist thing was an admittedly new development. Had they been at Sasuke’s home, he was sure that he would fare no better than the blonde.

“Well it’s a good thing we already ate because I’m pretty sure my 24-hour-store produce wouldn’t be up to your standards.” The attempt at light banter was followed by something akin to a huff of breath mixed with an awkward chuckle, as well as with a shuffling of bare feet inches from Sasuke’s own and a barely noticeable tug on their joined hands.

Sasuke suddenly felt an unexpected and immense sympathy for the bewhiskered boy in front of him. So much so that it shocked him, but he was struck with the realization that Naruto likely hadn’t shared his space with another human being in his entire LIFE and that this was a completely foreign and embarrassing situation for the both of them.

“I don’t think instant noodle snacks count as produce, dobe.”

This earned a more genuine bark of laughter from Naruto, who undoubtedly appreciated the reciprocation of their casual-yet-teasing banter that always came so naturally.

“Shut up, teme, or I’ll just have to plan a little ‘grocery’ trip over the next couple days. I’m sure you’d LOVE a tour of my local convenience store. The clerk would LOVE you.” The shit-eating snickers that followed this threat left sasuke almost curious to find out just what kind of person this shop keeper was.

Instead of asking, Sasuke simply rolled his eyes and looked around the small living room. Naruto seemed content chuckling to himself over his seemingly-genius hypothetical scenario, while Sasuke properly took in his new surroundings.

Sasuke’s attention snapped back to his begrudgingly bound companion when the ridiculous giggles turned into an intense yawn.

“We should get to bed. The sooner we get through tomorrow the better.” Sasuke knew the bitterness of his statement was unwarranted, but as he spoke he became acutely aware that he wasn’t in control of this situation. He knew he was better off here with Naruto than with Kakashi or (god forbid) Sakura, but Sasuke wasn’t a fan of situations outside of his control- or at least his willfully consenting participation.

“Yeah, I’m beat. Tomorrow’s gonna be a nightmare.” The shorter boy’s whole body slumped forward as he finished his sentence, shooting Sasuke a brief, sidelong glance before trudging off in the direction of what Sasuke could only assume was his bedroom (please let it not be the bathroom, please let it not be the bathroom, please let it-)

Sasuke had to hold back his sigh of relief as the bed and sparse furnishings (most notably the lack of a toilet) filled his view.

“Huh.” Naruto had stopped in the middle of the room.

“What is it?”

“I mean, I guess changing into pajamas is sorta outta the question isn’t it?”

The hand that wasn’t stuck to Sasuke’s in the chakra ball reached up to scratch the hair behind Naruto’s left ear as he spoke.

“Yeah, unless you want me to cut them off you.” His Kunai knife made a dull sound against his palm through the holster as he brought his free hand down to pat against it in accordance to his threat.

However, what was meant to be a clever and sarcastic threat toward his rival instead left both of their faces burning in the dull lamp light that Naruto had turned on upon entering the room. The blood pumping in Sasuke’s ears did nothing to stop the mantra of regret filling his mind as Naruto began to splutter briefly, tripping over his words.

“S-shut up, bastard, that doesn’t even make any sense. How would I get my pajama shirt on then, huh? What, are you gonna cut it ON to me?”

“That doesn’t make any sense either.”

“None of this makes sense! Let’s just go to bed!” Naruto raised their joined hands into the air in frustration along with his own free hand.

Sasuke simply offered up a “Tch” in response to the admittedly true statement from his team mate. He anticipated Naruto’s movements and began moving toward the bed at the same time that the blonde spun on his heel.

Stopping just shy of the edge of the bed Naruto turned partly back toward sasuke, not quite facing him and blush still firmly in place. Sasuke thought maybe it had actually gotten worse in the three feet they had traveled, not that he was paying attention to that sort of thing.

“I’ve always just slept in the middle, so, I donno....do you have a preference?” The words were spoken in the softest tone Sasuke had perhaps ever heard the younger boy speak, and he found himself taken aback for the second time that night.

Of all the things to be embarrassed by in their current circumstances, choosing which side of the bed they would sleep on hadn’t crossed Sasuke’s mind as one of them. Though he supposed it made sense. Closeness of any kind was a particularly vulnerable experience when all of those close to you had been taken away. Or if you’d never known closeness to anyone at all.

At least Sasuke had experience with sharing a bed in the past. As the younger sibling, he’d not really been allowed a choice, Itachi had always instinctively taken the side of the door to protect him in case of intruders.

Sasuke clenched his jaw at the uninvited memory and felt his hand pull minutely at their joined chakra ball as he tried to physically retreat into himself on impulse.

“Sas-“

“I’ll take the left side.” He looked directly into Naruto’s eyes as he cut him off. His eyes were cold and sharp, daring Naruto to question his brief hesitation and the bodily twitch he had definitely noticed in the dark haired boy.

Naruto’s face sobered immediately in response to the challenging expression.

“Sure, fine by me.” It was mumbled and Sasuke barely made it out as Naruto turned fully toward the bed again, bringing Sasuke with him by association.

The dark haired boy knew immediately that Naruto had misconstrued his reaction to what had clearly been a vulnerable question. But he only felt angrier at this fact, trying to shove his frustration down deep as he climbed into the bed. No point trying to fix it now. He just needed to get through the next three days.

“Please tell me you at least sleep under the covers.”

“Of course, Dobe, it’s freezing at night.” Sasuke gave him a long-suffering look, wrenching the covers aside and forcing Naruto to shuffle out from on top of them.

Once they had settled beneath the covers, bound hands laying between them on the pillow, Sasuke felt himself fighting the urge to squirm under Naruto’s concentrated gaze. It was one he’d met countless times in class or on the training field or even on a mission- but he was caught off guard by the intensity of the bright blue eyes as they watched him through the darkness of this foreign space that Naruto called home.

Sasuke hadn’t dared to share the single pillow with Naruto (although it seemed more than big enough) so he was met with only half the blonde boys face, smooshed into the pillow and blocked partially by the chakra ball. It was decidedly the most vulnerable position he’d been in with Naruto to date so he closed his eyes determinedly.

He needed to sleep. Tomorrow was already going to be difficult, he was not about to add sleep deprivation to the list of road blocks.

Sasuke felt Naruto’s toes brush against his shin as the boy shifted slightly and Sasuke flinched back minutely on instinct.

“..Sorry.” Came the mumble across from him in the darkness.

“..It’s okay.” He whispered back.

Okay. So maybe sleep wouldn’t come as easily as he’d hoped, but he’d dealt with worse nights. Way worse. At least he wasn’t alone this time.

Wait, no, hold on. Wasn’t that the whole problem?

You know what, forget it. He’d deal with these thoughts tomorrow. Or never. He just needed to sleep.

Naruto started to snore softly beside him, but the volume didn’t stay quiet for long.

It was going to be a long three days.

[hartleytrashaway]

agirlwithachakram replied to your post “i’m really torn between ‘hooray my beautiful son is back’ and ‘cool,...”

asdf,ansdf,nasd,mf RIGHT??? why is this show so straight in all the worst possible ways, how is it so fixated on talking about feelings of (SOME OF) the main characters to the detriment of getting into the big ideas that matter and inform their lives and traumas and why do they keep writing in hartley only to write him out instantly?

so i haven’t regularly watched the show since the end of s3 but didn’t they have some weird therapist mini-arc that didn’t go anywhere or actually address anybody’s problems? please correct me if i’m wrong. but i’m forever baffled by this show’s alternately glib and heavy-handed approaches to its extremely fucked-up characters. (even back when the show was good they really hand-waved a lot of shit away. jesse basically has no recovery time whatsoever from prolonged captivity and i’m still fucking uncomfortable about that.) it’s always had this inconsistent and wrong-headed approach to trauma despite dealing with some incredibly weighty issues. 

i absolutely think the show has been the most notorious one in the arrowverse for just so thoroughly shitting on the legacies of almost EVERYONE in the cast. the way they’ve just decimated the rogues has rankled me for years (see above re: glossing over serious issues, bc lisa snart is exhibit A), but they’ve also paid majorly important characters like wally, linda, etc. dust or sacrificed them on the altar of barry as golden god. i don’t even know who half the names are in the recaps anymore, and honestly, i don’t even care enough to look them up because i don’t want to get invested in someone the narrative will probably screw over for, idk, barry making stupid-ass decisions and being sad about it. (i get that barry is the main character, but don’t keep shoving teamwork and family down my throat as themes when you fuck over everyone in barry allen’s periphery.)

and hartley.......just a fucking case study in What the Fuck are Y’all DOING on This Show? there’s something about the constant betrayals of hartley that specifically hurt more than other characters. part of that is because the characters will create a problem for themselves that would be perfect for hartley to help solve (and they just forget he exists), but also hartley was set up with an incredibly intriguing backstory/identity/relationship to team flash, and the writers squandered literally everything about it. hartley is just as much of a victim as caitlin and cisco in terms of betrayed employees, and in many ways more of a victim because of the closeness of his relationship with harrison (regardless of whether it’s interpreted as platonic or romantic/sexual) and the viciousness with which harrison destroyed him. (it’s worth noting that it isn’t barry who beats hartley on the bridge in 1x11; it’s harrison, and his defeat is gruesome and brutal.) the show kicks the shit out of hartley, sometimes literally, and never reckons with the nastiness of the extra abuses they heap on a traumatized, isolated abuse victim. 

the ostensibly happy endings they give him are, like practically everything else, a nice sheen of Good News covering some really ugly content. 2x17 brings hartley back and gives him his hero moment and shows him happy and fulfilled...and then slips on a banana peel and slides right into the fucking trash by asking him to reunite with his homophobic parents. it feels even worse to show how crisis dicked over his timeline again. it cheapens his first and best episode by retroactively wiping out his pain and grief and desperate vengeance. the hartley we meet in 1x11 has been driven to this point by the continuous betrayals of the authority figures in his life and runs rampant because no one was there to temper him. it’s obvious that he’s alone in the world and has been for a while. sliding in a Cool Fix-It Boyfriend is a band-aid solution that disrespects hartley (and roderick, who exists only to be that good dick, i guess?) by stripping his history and motivations, again. i can’t be the only queer who fell in love with hartley because he was traumatized and ostracized and angry about it, and he gave voice to all those bitter feelings. every new retcon, every time they dangle a mention or appearance of hartley, only to squash our hopes with whatever stupid-ass narrative device they’ve got this time, becomes more and more insulting. 

like -- we get hartley meeting another harrison. this should be a fucking powder keg of a moment. i’ve been wishing that we could have seen this since s2, and i wanted so badly for hartley to be able to just unleash all the grief and hurt at someone who may not be the original harrison, but who still wears harrison’s face. and they just fucking whiffed it by having it be another opportunity for hartley to play the horny gay kid. on the surface: extremely in keeping with who hartley has always been, which is sarcastic, into tom cavanagh, and DTF. it’s one of those things that’s fine if you don’t think about it too hard, or if you go full lizard brain about it and just go ‘lol hartley wants to bang u.’ but it’s also so fucking deflating for hartley as a fully-realized character -- in one fell swoop, hartley’s supposed antagonistic relationship that has practically been his raison d’être in his past appearances becomes a blip on the radar so minor he can crack jokes about wanting to ride the cock express all the way to double-bang town. it invalidates his struggles and whisks away so much of what made him a rich, relatable character in the first place. 

anyway sorry i wrote a fucking essay you didn’t ask for. ima wrap this up even though i have a ton more to say, bc otherwise i will legit be here for hours getting mad about the fucking POTENTIAL this show has and refuses to take advantage of. 

[kookitykook]

Seven Soulmarks: Hoseok (”Can you even breathe in those pants?”)

~genre: soulmate au, fluff, humor, sfw, hoseok being an absolute chaotic mess

~word count: 2.8k (this is short but one of my fav things i’ve written pls give it a chance)

~pairing: dancer!hoseok x yn

~warnings: record store owner!yoongi (and his soulmate) make an appearance if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing 

~summary: At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear in black ink on the inside of your left wrist. Seven boys meeting their soulmates is just more proof that the universe knows what it’s doing. 

See how the other boys meet their soulmates (all interconnected) 

Jungkook -- Taehyung -- Jimin -- Namjoon -- Yoongi -- Jin

~~~~~~~~~

Hoseok lived and breathed dance. Movement was in his bones, his blood, every muscle and ligament and tendon in his body. It was his one true love.

And you can’t have dance without music. 

That was the initial reason why he had started setting up his street dance sessions in front of music stores. Surely if people loved music then they loved dance too and would be willing to drop some cash, right? And that had proved to be mostly true, but the only drawback was that the music store owners and managers tended to not like him all that much. 

It made no sense to Hoseok. If people were coming to check out the music and saw him along the way, it’s a win. If people were coming to see him and decided to check out the music too, also a win. 

Unfortunately, the four music store owners and managers that banned him from their sidewalks never did see his point of view. 

Yoongi did, though. 

It had been Hoseok’s junior year of college and he had invited his new buddy Jungkook, who was a freshman at the time, to come and street dance with him in front of a new music shop he had found, Agust D’s Records. 

When Yoongi had come out after seeing the crowd watching the two dancers, Hoseok had been prepared to take another loss. To his surprise though, Yoongi had just offered to let them borrow better speakers since Hoseok’s were, in Yoongi’s words, “complete trash.” 

And thus blossomed the oddest friendship. Hoseok, sunshine incarnate who could never stop dancing, and Yoongi, an old man trapped in a young man’s body who just wanted to sleep. Their biggest similarity though was their drive and work ethic. 

Sure, Hoseok was silly and Yoongi was serious, but both of them worked their asses off for their dreams and that was the foundation of the mutual respect driving their now their years-long friendship. 

And that very respect is what had Yoongi telling his friend:

“Get the fuck out of my store or I will beat your ass.”

“Hyung, it was an accident!”

“How many times have I told you not to take drinks into the aisles?”

“Not many—”

“Seventeen times. Get your ass out, you’re fired.”

“I am not fired.”

“You’re suspended.”

“That’s not even a thing.”

“Why did she have to find her soulmate?” Yoongi lamented dramatically, referring to his other best friend/employee, who had cut back to part time hours since getting together with her soulmate Namjoon, one of Hoseok’s best friends from college (yeah, small world, I know), who was also rich as hell so she didn’t need to work as much anymore. 

“Why did I hire you?” Yoongi continued. “Why, God?”

“Shut up,” Hoseok said, laughing at Yoongi’s dramatics. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“What mess?” 

Both men snapped their head over to where Yoongi’s very pregnant soulmate was waddling out of the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed in Hoseok’s direction and he winced. 

“Did you spill a drink in the aisles?” she asked. 

Normally, Yoongi’s soulmate was the sweetest, most calm and caring person ever. But pregnancy a week and a half past her due date had … changed her, to say the least. 

“Hoseok!” she shouted at his guilty expression. “And it’s all over your pants!”

Hoseok looked down at himself and sighed. Sure enough, coffee was drying all over the right side of his pants leg — his very tight pants leg. 

“Yeah, Hobi,” Yoongi taunted, going over to gingerly help his soulmate over to a chair behind the counter. “How are you ever going to attract your soulmate with dirty, tight pants?”

“Watch it,” Hoseok said with a point.

Soulmates were … a touchy subject for Hoseok. 

When he was 20 his words had appeared like everyone else, no big deal, right?

Big deal. 

While all of Hoseok’s friends had soulmarks that were interesting and exciting and vague in the coolest ways, his was … embarrassing, to say the least. And he didn’t get embarrassed easily, so that was saying something. 

But for the last six years, the words “Can you even breathe in those pants?” were in bold, black letters right across his wrist. 

Can you even breathe in those pants?

Seriously?

It didn’t even make sense when they appeared! Hoseok rarely wore tight pants at that age, opting for joggers or shorts so his dancing didn’t feel so … restricted. 

But he sure started wearing them after that, even if his friends gave him hell for it on a daily basis. 

“Yeah Hoseok,” Yoongi’s soulmate teased, grimacing briefly as she finally sat down and rested her hands on her swollen abdomen. “That coffee stain is awful distracting.”

“Are you really going to tease me about my soulmark Miss I-Silently-Stalked-My-Soulmate-For-A-Year?”

In a normal situation, Yoongi’s soulmate would have taken the gentle ribbing with grace, probably blushing in embarrassment briefly before looking over at Yoongi and deciding she didn’t care about the teasing. 

But throw pregnancy hormones and lack of comfortable sleep in the mix? Not the same reaction. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry!” Hoseok said, rushing over to her and Yoongi as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m an idiot, don’t listen to anything I say, I’m sorry!”

Yoongi sighed, letting his soulmate turn her head into his shoulder and cry against him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fire him.”

“Promise?” she choked out.

“Promise.”

“Wait, what?” Hoseok balked.

“You,” Yoongi said lowly, meeting Hoseok’s eyes over his soulmate’s shoulder. “Go upstairs, change into a different pair of pants, then come back down and prepare to do expense reports until your fingers bleed.”

Hoseok didn’t even bother responding as he took off to the stairs leading up to Yoongi and his soulmate’s apartment above the store. 

***

You were not a dancer. 

Well — correction: you were not a good dancer. You accepted this about yourself and were completely content with it, had been all your life. And this small little detail did not keep you from dancing anytime and anywhere you wanted to. When the music touched your soul, you were going to move. You couldn’t help it! And if anyone had a problem with it they could get over it! 

This is the attitude you tried to have all the time, and mostly succeeded in. 

But your soulmark had to go and make things difficult for you. 

“Nice moves.” 

 You just knew — you knew that the words were said sarcastically. No one in their right mind would look at your flailing about and say “nice moves” in a genuine fashion. 

So your soulmate was a little sarcastic brat then. Fine by you! He would meet his match whenever you heard him say the words. Oh yes, you had practiced many a comeback in preparation of the day you met your soulmate. You couldn’t wait to shock him and make him fall in love with your startling wit. 

So maybe you were a little bitter about your soulmark. But just a little, honestly. It’d been four years since the words had showed up and you had gotten used to them (and were well prepared to hear them of course). 

You still danced so … joke’s on them. 

“Now tell me again what kind of headphones she wants?” you asked your brother, holding your phone to your ear and trying to talk quietly so as not to disturb the other people in the store. 

You were in a music shop you had never been to before called Agust D’s Records, and the owner had briefly introduced himself earlier while holding a very pregnant crying woman. Other than that odd moment, the store was really cool. 

“The rose gold Beats,” your brother responded. You were shopping for a birthday present for his soulmate and because they lived on the other side of the country, you didn’t know her that well and had asked for gift advice. “But if they’re too expensive, it’s really fine.”

“No I can afford it!” you defended yourself. “I sold two paintings just yesterday thank you very much.” 

“Woah, really?” 

“Yeah, it’s actually going really well,” you said with pride. “I’ve got a few well-to-do clients that like my stuff. And the museum wants to promote me to full time next month since their other art curator’s assistant is retiring.”

“Y/N that’s awesome!”

You grinned. “Thanks. I’ve been saving up to fly out and see you guys, too. And I want to get to know my brother’s soulmate better, you know?”

“Hey, maybe when you can finally get out here you’ll have a soulmate of your own I can meet.”

“Ack, shutup,” you muttered. Your brother only laughed. “Anyways, I’m in a store so I should probably get off the phone. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“You got it. Bye, sis.”

“Bye, love you.”

After ending the call you pocketed your phone and wandered back over to the headphones. Sure enough, there were the rose gold Beats. You picked them up with a grin, then saw that the store had placed a blue pair out with a sign that said “Try Me!” 

Might as well, you thought to yourself. You pulled your phone back out and opened Spotify, plugging in the headphones and pressing play. The last song that had been playing was from your “dance jams” playlist and damn you forgot how good this song was. 

Soon enough, you were in your own little world, just you and the music. So much so that you didn’t notice the guy standing behind you. 

***

“Oh wow,” Yoongi said, doing his best to bite back laughter as Hoseok walked down the stars — well, more like waddled. “Babe, babe look up, this is going to make you feel so much better.”

“Nothing can … oh my gosh.” Yoongi’s soulmate switched from crying to laughing in the blink of an eye as she looked up to see Hoseok wearing a pair of Yoongi’s skinny jeans, which were practically high waters on him. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Hoseok said as he made it back to the store floor, pulling at the crotch of his — no, Yoongi’s pants without shame. Gosh he could hardly breathe in these pants.

… Wait a minute.

“If you don’t meet your soulmate today, nothing makes sense in the world,” Yoongi said with a laugh. His soulmate was still cackling.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Hoseok stuck his tongue out and grabbed a box of records that needed to be shelved from the countertop. “I’ll get to work.”

“Please do,” Yoongi responded, he and his soulmate still cackling like children. If Hoseok weren’t struggling to walk he would have taken a moment to appreciate how cute they were. 

There were only a few customers in the store, and they all looked at him with amused expressions. Fortunately for Hoseok, he was the type to play up an embarrassing situation so he laughed right along with them. 

It was fine. Everything was fine. 

“Yoongi you skinny ass,” Hoseok muttered, dipping into the empty headphones aisle to pull at the pants once more. These jeans did not factor in his dancer thighs. 

Movement to his left suddenly caught Hoseok’s eye and he froze, hoping he hadn’t just severely embarrassed himself even more, but …

Nope. Nope, this time he was not the one to be laughed at in this situation. Instead, the girl dancing like an absolute idiot was the embarrassing factor. 

What was she doing? Hoseok didn’t know what song she was listening to but there’s no way she was dancing on beat because … well, because she wasn’t dancing to any beat. Her arms were flailing around and her hips were … gyrating? Not in the sexy way though, but in a … he didn’t know, but some odd kind of way. 

And even though she looked like a total moron she was also … smiling so big? He couldn’t help but grin even though his dancer brain wanted to grimace. She just looked so happy. Her eyes were closed and she was just listening to the music and dancing. Dancing badly, but … dancing all the same. 

“Nice moves!” he shouted loud enough to cut through the sound of the headphones. 

The girl jumped, opening her eyes and looking over at him, surprise and shock in her eyes … but no shame. Hoseok liked that. 

She blinked, scrunching her eyebrows in a way that said she hadn’t heard him at all. 

While reaching to press pause on her phone and take off the headphones, Hoseok repeated himself.

“I said—”

***

Shit, shit, shit.

You pressed pause on the music, taking the headphones off in a motion that made your hair go everywhere, turning to the cute boy that was clearly amused by you and was trying to say something. 

“—nice moves.”

Your heart dropped. Actually, your phone dropped, but the sentiment still remained. 

It was time. Your moment had come. IT WAS TIME. 

Finally, now was your chance — your one chance to say something snarky to your little asshole soulmate making fun of you. 

But nothing had prepared you for how cute he was. A heart shaped mouth, hair that looked so soft it should be illegal, glowing, dewy skin, eyes twinkling with damn starlight, and —

The tightest highwater pants you had ever seen. 

“You’re a,” he pursed his lips mid-sentence to stifle a chuckle, “a really great dancer. I like the arm flailing the best, very nice technique. Where did you train?”

Your mouth dropped. 

What a brat!

“Can you even breathe in those pants?” you snapped without hesitation.

All of your memorized comebacks and that was way better than anything you had prepared. You wanted to pat yourself on the back. Hell yeah.

“Ha!” 

“The world makes sense after all.”

You and the boy turned at the same time to look at the owner and his very pregnant soulmate (you guessed) laughing hysterically. 

“Can I just say that I know you’re his soulmate,” the pregnant woman said to you, “and I already very much love and adore you. Please put this brat in his place daily for me.”

“What—”

“I think I get all the credit for this match,” the owner said.

Your soulmate pinched his nose in exasperation. “Hyung…”

“What? They’re my pants.”

“Why are you wearing his pants?” you asked incredulously.

“Because he spilt coffee in the aisle.”

“But there’s a no drinks sign.”

“See, Hoseok?” You take mental note of your soulmate’s name as the owner speaks. “Your soulmate is clearly smarter than you, like I always predicted.”

“Please stop talking,” your soulmate muttered, ears turning bright red much to your amusement. 

“Sweetheart,” the pregnant woman said in between bouts of laughter. “We’re sorry, but this is very exciting for us. We’ll give you an item from the store for free, I—”

The woman froze suddenly, her eyes going wide as she…

“Oh and you yell at me for spilling coffee!” Hoseok shouted as her water broke all over the record store floor. 

“Shit, shit,” the owner said, grabbing his wife’s forearms to hold her upright. “We’ve got to get to the hospital. Can you drive?”

You blink as you realize the owner is talking to you.

“Who, wh — me?” 

“Yes, you! My car is almost out of gas and this idiot only has a skateboard, so can you drive?”

“I — y-yes. Yes, I can drive!”

“Well go get your car! Hoseok, go with her and meet us out front. Everybody! Shop’s closed, get out!”

“Come on,” Hoseok says as he grabs your hand and drags you toward the front door. 

“Wh — I — what is going on?”

“I’m Hoseok, you can call me Hobi, I’m your soulmate, and my best friends are having a baby and you’re driving us to the hospital. Where’d you park? Where’s your keys?”

“I — across the street.” The bell jingles and you barely know which way is up. “My keys are—”

In your nervousness and confusion, you drop your keys to the sidewalk. 

“Don’t worry I—”

The rip of Hoseok’s pants as he bends down to pick up your keys is the loudest, most hilarious noise you have ever heard. 

A beat passes before you promptly burst into hysterical laughter. Hoseok takes one look at you as he stands back up to his full height, a slight breeze on his ass, before joining you in hysterics. 

With a grin still plastered on your face, you throw your arms around his neck and plant a kiss on this stranger’s lips, both of you still smiling. 

“I’m never going to let you live this down, I hope you know that, soulmate.”

“Yeah, yeah, when you embarrass yourself during our first dance when we get married the tables will turn.”

“Deal,” you say as you kiss him again. 

“What are you idiots doing? My wife is having a baby, get in the car!”

[myemergence]

(never) leaving you behind

A/N: Thanks to Nicole for the beta on this!

For Buddie First Kiss Week prompt: because they think they’re going to die.

@buddiefirstkissweek

Check out my other works over on AO3

***

“I don’t think this is what Christopher meant when he said ‘have fun, Dad’,” Eddie says dryly. He grunts as the Jeep jumps over the ragged road, grabbing onto the door frame for security.

Buck rolls his eyes, glancing at Eddie before bringing his attention back to the rough terrain leading to the canyon’s hiking trails. Buck begged Eddie to come out with him today to do something while Christopher was away at summer camp. He was kid-free —he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted—and Eddie’s choice would have been to have a Netflix marathon or catch up on cleaning, maybe even read a book while the house was quiet. Buck’s idea was quite the opposite: go hiking. 

In the grueling California heat.

Eddie glances at his coffee mug as it jostles with each and every bump. It’s too early for this. He really needs a caffeine fix before he tells Buck where he can shove his ‘adventure’ and ‘embracing life’. He uses the back of his hand to dab away the light sheen of sweat that’s already beading on his brow.

“I don’t think he meant for you to stay at home in your pajamas and be a  dull  dad, Eddie. He’s going to ask what you did while he was away at camp. Which, by the way, I advised you heavily against, if you’ll remember.”

“Oh, I remember,” Eddie mutters, and he’s certain that Buck purposely hits this bump a little harder than the rest. He narrows his eyes.

“I’m just saying,” Buck continues, his body somehow relaxed despite the steady stream of bumps and the gritty road that crunches beneath the tires. “He’s not going to want to hear about how you watched Tiger King, or whatever the hell it is that you’re watching these days.” He finally brings the Jeep to a stop, and Eddie breathes out a sigh.

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to have such a dull and boring dad,” Eddie grumbles, grabbing the travel mug and taking a few sips, unmoving, as Buck hops out and moves towards the back to pull their hiking bags out. Eddie spent the better part of Christopher’s early years in a warzone and aside from his work with the 118, his life these days is less than riveting. Eddie isn’t unaware of that, but having Buck point it out to him puts him on the defensive. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just—” Buck scrambles to get the words out, but Eddie cuts him off abruptly.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Eddie says sarcastically as he climbs out of the Jeep and turns his full attention to Buck, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s just what?”

“It’s just you’re better than that, Eds. You’re not some boring, old man. You’re a cool dad, an  exciting  dad.”

Eddie raises his brow as he takes his pack from Buck and snorts a laugh. “Really?” 

“Really. How many kids get to say that their dad is a hero?” Buck pauses, watching as Eddie sets the coffee mug back in the cupholder. “ You really should stick to water for the rest of today.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Sure thing,  Papa Buck .” He hauls his pack onto his back and watches Buck do the same, clipping the buckle across his chest to secure it. Although Eddie protested the entire way out here, he’s glad to be spending time with Buck. He’d prefer to be relaxing at his place over coffee or a few beers though, not waking up at 5 am on his day off.

But, he’ll take what he can get at this point.

______________________________

Buck walks beside Eddie, matching his stride step for step.  They’ve been hiking for a few hours already, though Eddie’s sure it’s been twelve days. “Isn’t this better than a Netflix marathon?”

Eddie takes a few long sips from his water. “Oh yeah, this is so much more relaxing.”

“Stop.”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I mean, I could—”

“No Eddie,  stop .” He almost continues walking, only halting when he feels Buck’s hand closing around his wrist. He’s not sure why, but his heart races at the contact. Buck’s palm is tacky, his fingers a hot bracelet around his wrist. 

“I—”

“Look around,” Buck’s voice is softer now as he gestures his other hand in front of them. The blue sky and bright sun are the finishing touches to the picturesque view of the canyon. Eddie’s heart continues to beat rapidly in his chest and he wonders if Buck can feel his heartbeat race beneath his fingertips.

Buck’s hand drops away and they stand together in silence. His eyes sweep over the view and he feels a certain peacefulness here. There’s a stillness and a sense of calm that can’t be explained. “It’s… beautiful.” Eddie says finally, glancing over at Buck, noticing the way that the sun brightens the blue in his eyes.  Beautiful .

He swallows hard before he feels Buck’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on, it gets better,” Buck promises. Eddie nods, the contact pulling Eddie away from thoughts of swimming in the ocean of his best friend’s gorgeous blue eyes. He needs to pull it together.

Eddie tries to pinpoint when his feelings went from platonic to… whatever this is. 

He realized after the lawsuit how much he needed Buck in his life. His absence in Eddie’s life had been excruciating, trying to navigate the days without him there felt impossible, and facing life’s challenges without him felt insurmountable. So he reminds himself to keep his feelings in check because he can’t face that kind of loss again, even if that means entertaining every ridiculous idea that he has.

Sure, Eddie had put up a fight about coming today. But both he and Buck knew he’d never say no, that he  couldn’t .

So, they continue their hike, and Eddie’s legs ache with fatigue. “Buck, I need to sit down and drink some water,” He grumbles as he takes several long sips of water, unable to remember the last time that water was so refreshing.

“Alright, take a break but I just want to check this out quick,” Buck says as he walks closer to the edge of the Canyon that overlooks the valley below.

“Don’t get too close,” Eddie warns as he digs in his bag for a granola bar. 

“How am I supposed to get a decent selfie if I don’t get close?” Buck jokes as he pulls out his phone.

“Buck, don’t be an idiot,” Eddie says tersely as he glances up, seeing that Buck isn’t actually trying to take a selfie. Eddie pulls out his own phone briefly, frowning when he looks down and sees that he doesn’t have any signal. “I swear to God, if you end up being one of those morons that falls off of a cliff taking a selfie, I’ll kill you myself.”

There’s a stretch of silence.

“Shit.” Eddie hears the sudden change in Buck’s tone, tight in alarm, and his head snaps up. He watches Buck blink blearily, his eyes struggling to focus. The fuzzy look in Buck’s eyes reminds Eddie that Buck hasn’t eaten anything since they started the hike.

“Buck,” Eddie calls out in warning, moving quickly to get to his feet. “Buck, get away from-” The words die in the back of Eddie’s throat as terror rips through him. He sees Buck stumble, hears the sickening sound of crumbling rock and the world stutters to a halt.

Shock registers on Buck’s face seconds before he disappears along from the edge of the cliff he was just standing on.

The clifftop is calm and still. In Buck's absence, the sky remains as blue as his eyes; the sun still blinding in its light without the glow of Buck’s smile.

It feels inexplicably wrong in a world where Buck no longer exists.

“Buck!” Eddie’s legs crumble beneath him and he feels paralyzed as the gravity of the situation overwhelms him. Buck is…  gone , almost as if he was never there to begin with.

Suddenly Eddie is picturing a world without Buck, the grief and weight of that slamming into him so hard that a sob bursts past his lips. 

“BUCK!” He screams desperately, scrambling forward, careful to slow his movements a few feet from the edge.

Eddie’s holding his breath, waiting. Waiting for a response from Buck. Waiting for Buck to say something. Waiting for any sound to indicate that he’s okay.  

Any sign at all that he’s somehow survived this. 

Nothing comes. 

“Fuck. Evan!” Eddie howls, the terror that’s clawing at his chest threatening to suffocate him. His hands shake as he lowers himself to the ground, crawling the last few feet, dragging himself to the edge. Another helpless sob rips through him.  

He can see Buck’s body now, and he forces out a shallow breath. He tries to level his voice as he calls out to him again. “Buck!” Somehow he’s managed to land on a small ledge about fifteen feet below, his body hanging precariously, fingers white-knuckled from the strain as he grips at the edge. He sees cuts and scrapes, trying to catalog the damage like he does every day on the job. His eyes sweep over Buck’s face, seeing pain and fear there. 

Then it hits him. Hard.

The relief he feels when he first sees Buck somewhere other than lifeless at the bottom of the canyon quickly fades, It’s replaced with something familiar; helplessness and fear which threaten to suffocate him. Feelings that are too familiar when it comes to Buck. Eddie tries to blink away the horrific memory that creeps in, threatening to paralyze him. 

The noise, it’s so loud. Eddie can barely hear anything, Buck is trapped beneath the ladder rig and he’s unable to escape, pinned down. Eddie’s helpless to do anything to help. They’re at the mercy of a hate-filled psychopath, and he’s looking at Buck like he’s collateral damage. Eddie chokes on the fear, raw and bitter in the back of his throat. How can they just stand here and look on as Buck writhes in pain?

But they’re forced to. And for what feels like hours Eddie has to swallow down the absolute terror that’s rising up in his chest, gripping too tightly like a vice and making it impossible to breathe. They need to help him, they need to do something . But the police cordon on scene makes it impossible, and they’re forced to hang back.

He has no control. He can do nothing for Buck.  Nothing.

Eddie forces the feeling down. He could do nothing for Buck after the explosion, but this isn’t the ladder rig. He let Buck down before and he’s damn sure that he’s not going to do it again this time.

“Eddie,” Buck all but pleas, eyes flitting to Eddie’s as he attempts to gain some footing below to push himself up. Eddie pulls his phone out to try calling for help, but as soon as he looks at his phone he remembers they have no signal, and he all but throws his phone over the precipice. There’s nobody he can call, nobody that he can send for help.

“Buck, can you grab hold of anything else? Is there anything you can put your foot on?”

“I’m trying,” Buck grunts, and fuck, Eddie can see the fear in his eyes and hear the tremble in his voice. Eddie blinks, forcing the tears down his cheeks. “I-I’ll get it. Go get help.” Eddie registers that he’s pushing his fear down for Eddie’s benefit, and it’s everything he can do not to scream.

The self-sacrificing fuck.

He wants Eddie to leave him while he dangles off of a cliff and then falls to his death. Alone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie growls.

“Eddie, you have to go get help. There’s nothing you can do.” He knows Buck isn’t going to let it go, and this battle of stubbornness is going to end one way or another on this cliff. He’s out of Eddie’s reach, about fifteen feet down but Eddie’s not ready to let any distance get between them, not again. He refuses to stand by this time.

“I’m not leaving you here to die. So save your energy, alright?” There’s no way that Buck can hold on much longer. Eddie sees the obvious shake in his shoulders, he hears the grunts as Buck gives everything he has to try to pull himself upright onto the flat surface. Eddie glances down, sees the gaps and crevices in the rock. He can do this. He has to do this. He can’t let this be the end.

He won't.

“Eddie, no!”

They’ve scaled down cliff sides, done repel rescues,  and dealt with worse conditions before, but Eddie knows this is different. There’s no harness keeping him safe, there’s no winch to lift them to safety once he gets down to Buck. He knows that he's out of options. This time, he refuses to leave Buck behind. Eddie takes a steadying breath and presses his fingers into the Saint Christopher medal that hangs around his neck. He shifts his body, turning so he teeters over the edge, finally finding footholes and trying to ignore the steep drop below.

“Eddie, please! You have to think of Christopher!” Buck yells, continuing to struggle below. 

“I  am,” Eddie grunts as he moves down the face of the cliff, little by little. “Christopher would never forgive me for giving up on his Buck.” It isn’t much longer until he’s on the ledge that Buck is dangling from. Eddie lays flat on his stomach, moving quickly to grab Buck’s arms. It’s a long tense moment as they struggle to get Buck back onto the ledge without Buck losing grip or Eddie slipping down with him.

“You’re an idiot!” Of all the words that Eddie’s expecting after he prevented his friend from falling to his death, these weren’t among then. Buck’s tone is absolutely seething, it prickles at Eddie’s skin.

Both men pant, their backs pressed against the hard rock behind them. 

Eddie barely manages a breathless laugh, turning his head to look at Buck. “How about a thank you for saving your life?” Buck’s jaw is set and he rolls his eyes wordlessly, grimacing as he looks down at his battered hands but doesn’t turn to look at Eddie. He watches Buck in silence when he doesn’t say anything. “Did you think I was just going to leave you down here to die alone?” 

“That was the plan,” Buck whispers, and Eddie feels the world around him fracture.

“How could you think that I would just… let you die?” Eddie has to force the words out as he watches Buck. Finally, he lifts his eyes to Eddie’s and he sees the pain there, the reluctance. “When you were being crushed by the ladder rig I was forced to stand by. I couldn’t do anything to help you. All I could do was pray that we’d be able to get to you in time. I-I couldn’t leave this up to chance again.”

“If you would’ve just left me down here, you would’ve been okay, Eddie. You—” Buck cuts himself off, the broken look on his face registering his total lack of faith that they'll be able to find a way out of this. “Christopher’s already lost his mom and you barely survived your last brush with death. I am  so  pissed at you for putting yourself in this situation.”

Eddie’s quiet as he looks out at the steep drop below. “But I  did survive. And think about how many times you’ve survived when you obviously shouldn’t have. We’re going to find a way out of this. You can’t give up before we’ve even tried.”

So they try. If their hands weren’t already cut up before, attempting to climb back up the face of the cliff proves impossible. It’s too steep, too high, too unstable. Each attempt causes pebbles to rain down until they give up, panting from the excruciating heat of the sun beating down on them. No drinks, no food, no supplies.

They sit beside each other silently, until daylight fades and dusk settles on them. Eddie isn’t sure what’s worse, the silence forces him into his own thoughts or that Buck has been silent for hours now. He’s used to Buck being loud and boisterous, an overwhelming presence that makes Eddie feel complete. The absence of that energizing life — the fear of their sealed fate — leaves Eddie feeling lifeless.

Eddie glances over at Buck, briefly wonders he’s actually fallen asleep because of how quiet he’s been. He sees Buck staring straight ahead. “Are you still mad at me?” A shiver coursing through his body as the temperature begins to drop, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He wonders if Buck is even listening.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Buck whispers. “It wasn’t that long ago that you narrowly survived death.” He sounds like all of his energy has been zapped and Eddie wishes there was some way that he could bring him back. His tone is rough from exhaustion and heavy with guilt. “I’m the one that said you needed adventure in your life.  I’m  the one that said—”

“No,” Eddie says, reaching blindly for Buck’s hand and wincing through the pain that jolts through him. “This is not on you. I chose to come out here. I could have said no. I mean, Netflix  may  have been a little safer.”

"This is just what I do,” Buck says, the self-deprecation in his voice clear. “First I put Christopher at risk and he almost dies. Then I make you come out here with me for some ridiculous guy’s adventure while Christopher’s at camp so you have a story to tell and… we’re not gonna make it, Eddie.  Nobody’s gonna find us.”

“This isn’t your fault. I wanted to spend time with you, Buck. I-” This isn’t how Eddie’s pictured this going, not that he’s imagined a thousand different scenarios. All of the possible ways that Eddie’s walls can come down enough for him to tell Buck how he actually feels. Buck might be right, they might not get rescued and… they might die out here. “Did you tell anyone about hiking?”

“I told Maddie I was going hiking, but I uh, I never said where.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him quietly, though his voice breaks a little. He gently squeezes Buck’s hand and scoots closer until his side is pressed against Buck’s.

“When that drilling rig came down on top of the well, and you were still down there… the world stopped. And I know that you cut your rope because you had to save the kid, and I… I definitely would have done the same thing, Eddie.” Buck’s voice is hoarse as he turns to look at him. Despite the darkness, he can see the way that Buck’s eyes shine with tears. “I know we haven’t really talked about it because you said you were  fine .”

“I  was …. I-I am.”

“We’re not fine right now. And what happened to you down there… it wasn’t fine. Christopher almost lost you. And then what would happen to him, huh?”

A choked sound slips past Eddie’s lips then. “It was okay. Because I knew you were up there. You were safe.” He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the hard rock, trying to let the icy discomfort distract him from the burning ache in his chest. “I knew that if I couldn’t make it back to him… that you would make sure he was okay. That if I died, you would’ve made sure that he didn’t forget me, that he’d still have his days with his Buck. He has people who love him, but I didn’t give up,” he whispers. “I fought to come back to Chris, to you.”

Buck drags his free hand through his short curls. “You fought so hard to come back after the drill rig collapsed and yet you threw it away like it was nothing to come down here today. Putting yourself back in danger. You just gave up on everything, on your life, on  Christopher. You were up there and you were safe! Why?” The volume and anger drain from his tone and he ends brokenly, his voice barely above a whisper.  “I- I’m not that important. Not like he is. Not like Isabel or Pe-”

Eddie feels a wave of nausea overcome him. He blinks, the tears shaking loose and slipping down his cheeks “What?” He demands, his tone bewildered. “How can you say that you’re not important, Ev? How can you be so blind? You are so important. You matter the most. I could never just… leave you behind.”

Eddie feels tremors against his side, an aftershock of the sobs that have overcome Buck. He breathes out the steadiest breath that he can muster, slipping an around Buck’s shoulders and drawing him close. Eddie’s fingers slip through Buck’s hair and he tries to ignore the way that Buck’s hair is becoming wet with Eddie’s own tears. He repeats the soothing motion, his lips nearly brushing Buck’s forehead. “I’ll never leave you behind.”

He isn’t sure Buck truly understands the weight of those words, the thought of existing without Buck now is like a rainbow trying to exist without the sun; an actual impossibility. He remembers all of the days that Buck’s bright smile and warmth have pushed aside the overbearing clouds that Eddie’s unable to weather alone; a dry shelter to get warm amidst a storm. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck sniffles and for a moment Eddie’s afraid he’s crossed a line, that invisible line that he’s been hovering over precariously for months. The line that friends don’t cross, inching closer and closer and barely staying on the side of friendship, gazing longingly at more. 

Buck shifts slightly to look up at Eddie. “Thank you… for not leaving me behind.” Buck’s voice is raw, hoarse from crying. Eddie sees the trail Buck’s tears have left behind and he itches to brush them away. To assure him that it’s going to be okay.

Instead, he nods. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Buck. It was selfish,” he tries for a joking tone, but it falls flat and his voice shakes. Because Eddie knows the underlying truth: it was selfish. He saved Buck for his own benefit, because he can’t deal with a life without Buck. 

Buck shifts in his embrace and Eddie’s fingers slip from his hair. Buck kneels in front of Eddie and, without warning, Buck’s hands are on his face, the space between them is gone. Buck’s lips press against his, rough and needy. Desperate tears slip from Eddie’s eyes as he parts his lips and Buck moves closer, until he’s straddling Eddie’s lap. Their chests press together and Eddie cradles the back of Buck’s head with one hand, the other grasping onto Buck’s shirt like a lifeline.  

Buck draws back, heart still thundering in his chest while Eddie’s hand remains balled in a fist at the front of Buck’s shirt. Slowly, his eyes open and he has to remind himself how to breathe with striking blue eyes watching him.

The rapid rise and fall of Buck’s chest is captivating, overcome by the fact that they’re both still alive. They’ve survived so much and this is happening. Buck kissed him after all of this time. Maybe it’s born from desperation because they don’t know if or when they’ll be found, maybe he would have kissed anyone at this moment — Eddie’s not sure. But he feels a light fluttering in his stomach, and he swallows hard as he tries to keep it at bay— that feeling that Eddie’s trying not to give a name to; hope. 

It’s hard not to let that feeling surge through him, difficult to remain level-headed and impossible to be logical with the heavy presence in his lap. Buck’s eyes bore into him, parting his lips like he wants to say something, like he needs to say something. The air between them is charged, “Eddie,” he croaks. Eddie grabs Buck’s face, dragging Buck deeper into his space. He wants to find refuge in him until nothing else exists.

There’s no canyon, no dark, no fears here.

Only Buck.

Soft lips brush against Eddie’s once more before he withdraws. Eddie’s hand rests against Buck’s chest, his heartbeat strong and steady. “We can’t give up yet,” Eddie tells him quietly. “We have something to fight for, both of us — so many things, Buck. Christopher. Maddie and Chim’s baby. Our families. The 118.”

Buck’s nod is barely perceptible. “Each other,” he adds, brushing his thumb against the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“So let’s rest. When the sun rises, we’ll find a way.”

They press against each other, cuddling the best that they can for an uncomfortable and sleepless night. 

______________________________

They spend the morning ignoring their rumbling stomachs and parched mouths. Buck tries hoisting Eddie as high as he can, trying to lift him high enough that he has something to grip onto, to pull himself to safety so that he can call for help. They try. Again, and again, and again. 

“Let’s just… give it a rest for now, okay?” Eddie says, his arms and legs shaking with exertion.  

“Fine,” Eddie hears Buck’s clipped tone, and he tries not to grimace. He knows that Buck doesn’t want to quit, doesn’t want to give up.  That’s just who Buck is, a fighter. But he’s physically hurting, Eddie can see it. He needs him to take a break. “It’s only gonna get harder, the longer we’re out here.”

“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “Just a couple minutes, please.” He reaches out for Buck’s hand, the heat of the sun hot against his sweaty back. “Please.” Buck’s shoulders sag slightly, but he nods. Eddie sits down on the ground, gently grasping Buck’s hand.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Buck says after a minute, and, if they weren’t in such a dire situation, Eddie would smile. Because that’s forever Buck, trying to learn something new.

“You know more about most things than I do,” Eddie says after a minute, gently bumping Buck’s shoulder with his own. 

“Useless knowledge, really,” Buck says. “But just think of one thing...two if you want to be the overachiever that I know you are.”

“Okay, two things,” Eddie murmurs, his aching hand gently gripping Buck’s.

“You’re the most selfless person that I know,” he pauses, fingertips tracing a pattern on the back of Buck’s hand. “I know you say that you make everything about you, but you don’t. You-you love harder than anyone else. You put yourself in danger to make sure everyone else is okay. You did it during the tsunami, with Chris. You did it yesterday,” his voice shakes, “for me.”

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“Don’t ever do that again.” 

Quiet falls over them, as they look out at the scenic view in front of them. He knows his heavy words aren’t what Buck was looking for, but he needs to be heard. Needs him to understand his importance, that he has a place. Not just as a firefighter, but as Buck. Minutes pass and Eddie gently tugs Buck’s hand closer, into his lap. 

“And, number two? It’s illegal to milk someone else’s cow in Texas.”

Buck rolls his eyes and a laugh slips past his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

Laughter washes over Eddie, it’s been an entire day since he laughed, but his laughter is contagious. “I couldn’t make something that stupid up if I tried, man.” Their hands slot together carefully and Eddie’s eyes slip closed. He takes the time to listen to Buck breathing beside him, committing to memory the pattern of each breath instead of focusing on uncertainty. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Shhhh,” Buck shushes him loudly, holding a finger to his lips. Eddie rolls his eyes, tempted to smack Buck on the back of the head. But it’s the silence that allows Eddie to hear something, too. Noise from above.

Hikers.

They’re both on their feet in an instant. “HEY! We’re down here!” They shout and it’s a few tense moments before they see a couple of hikers peer over the edge. 

For the first time in over twenty-four hours, Eddie feels like he can finally breathe again.

______________________________

It’s been nearly a week since they were rescued. After they finally made it to safety, Eddie barely left Buck’s side for the first few days. He wanted to make sure that he was okay, and those few days after had been a little tense to say the least. Buck had kissed him, and Eddie kissed him back. But that was when they weren’t sure if they were going to make it out alive or not. Things were different now, Eddie understood that.

Life and death situations, they make people do crazy things. 

Buck steps into the kitchen where Eddie is pulling things out of the fridge. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m making us lunch, before we meet the bus to get Chris. He’s gonna want you there,” Eddie pauses, “I mean, unless you had other plans?”

“No, no I definitely want to be there,” Buck chuckles, looking at Eddie closely and his lips remain turned up in an amused smirk. “It’s just… we narrowly escaped dying a few days ago, I’d rather not tempt fate again.” The  asshole .

“Buck,” Eddie narrows his eyes in warning, setting down the ingredients on the counter. 

Buck holds up his hands in surrender. And dammit, despite the fact that he’s making a mockery out of Eddie’s ability to cook, he wants nothing more than to push Buck against the refrigerator and taste his lips again. 

He considers swallowing the feeling, pushing it back down where it can’t be seen. But then he remembers the swell of panic he felt when the probability of losing Buck was high. The idea of overstepping, the repercussions of making assumptions seem a little smaller now, less intimidating. 

Buck’s looking at him with a curious expression on his face, and Eddie closes in the distance between them with a few long strides. “I’m probably gonna regret this,” Eddie mutters, one hand resting against Buck’s chest and pushing him backward until he’s pressed against the fridge. Eddie’s other hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing tenderly against his jawline as his lips ghost over Buck’s, not quite touching.

Buck’s face tips down, blue eyes dancing with mirth find his amber ones, “I’m gonna regret it if you don’t kiss me already. Do I need to almost die for you to do it? I’m sure I can-”

“Shut up,” Eddie growls, pressing his hips forward into Buck’s like a warning. He feels Buck’s breath hitch and the corner of Eddie’s lip turns up at the result. His lips brush against Buck’s, slow and teasing. He nips at Buck’s bottom lip, then kisses the corner of his mouth tenderly before pulling back. 

“Better get busy.”  

“I’m sorry. Wh-what?” Buck stutters, a hazy expression clouding his features as he tries to process Eddie’s words.

“Better get busy making lunch. Since you don’t want to die today,” Eddie grins, a small feeling of satisfaction settling over him, stemming from the realization that he caused the dazed look on Buck’s face. He flashes a bright smile in turn, and it reaches his eyes this time. Eddie looks at him fondly, silently intertwining their fingers, as his heart swells.

Finally, on the afternoon before Christopher returns from sleep away camp, Eddie finds the fun that his son had been wishing him all along.