#the grapes are a bit more like pulling teeth though honestly

[fingertipsmp3]

I was going to take a tolerance break starting today but I have some grapes that need eating and there’s no way I’m devouring half a thing of grapes sober

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[elisaphoenix13]

Bonding With Clay

Tony woke with a soft groan and rolled onto his side to throw his arm around Stephen and buried his nose in the back of his neck. He even hooked a leg over Stephen's and ground his hips against his ass until the younger man hugged and swatted back at him.

"Tony, no. There's a child in our bed and I have to go to Kamar-taj today." Stephen mumbles.

Tony cracks his eyes open and lifts his head to look over Stephen and sighs when he finds Valerie cocooned against the sorcerer. "Doesn't she have her own bed?"

"She had a nightmare."

"What about William?" Tony complains and Stephen chuckles.

"You know as well as I do that there are some things parents can do that siblings can't." The sorcerer pushes Tony's face away. "Go brush your teeth."

"Absolutely not. You have to suffer my morning breath now." Tony laughs and kisses Stephen. It only lasted a few seconds before the younger was pushing him away again with a look of disgust.

"I can even taste it!"

Tony laughs again and rolls back over to get out of bed and shuffle into their bathroom to brush his teeth. As he passed Lucy's crib, he found her wide awake and sitting up, patiently gnawing on her teething ring...which she fondly chucked at his head. It was her way of saying good morning and also her way of showing that she liked someone. Fortunately she only threw soft things at people. The more dangerous items were chucked at something random. Like the lab incident.

So he and Stephen considered themselves lucky. Of course they still tried to get her to stop, but she was stubborn like her parents. Lucy did what she wanted.

"Just a minute Lulu. I've been ordered to wash my mouth and you know how Mom is." Tony says and grabs his toothbrush. Lucy babbles in a way a baby might be offended and Tony looks into the bedroom to look at Stephen as he gets out of bed as well. "Y'hear that?"

"She always has something to say." Stephen scoffs as he fixes the blankets over Valerie. "It'll be you, Lucy, and Valerie today. The kids have school and classes, I have things to check on in Kamar-taj, and everyone else is busy."

Tony spits into the sink after rinsing and frowns. "I don't mind, but Val never seems to enjoy our time together."

"She's getting better." Stephen sighs.

It was true...for the most part. Valerie wasn't completely reliant on Stephen anymore ever since the twins came to live with them. She adored William, and of course she loved Tony, but she and her father had yet to find something to bond over. She loved reading and the piano like Stephen just like Lucy loved being in the lab with Tony. He would figure something out though. Maybe tough out sitting through The Little Mermaid for the fourteen hundredth time? That was Valerie's favorite movie.

"You taking the cloak?" Tony asks.

"Mmhmm." Stephen responds as he brushes his teeth.

"Athena?" Another noise of approval. "Right... we'll figure it out."

"Mmnnbbbftt!" Lucy babbles.

Tony leaves the bathroom and takes the baby out of her crib. "I heard you the first time, bossy."

"If that isn't evidence enough that she takes after you--" Stephen starts until Tony points at him.

"She could have just as easily gotten it from you Duchess."

Stephen chuckles and walks back over to the bed when Valerie sits up and rubs her eyes. While he got ready for the day and explained to the little girl that she would be spending the day with her father and sister, Tony got himself and Lucy ready for the day. His mind was already occupied with how he would spend the day with the girls since Valerie had no interest in the lab, and everything led to Disney movies and tea parties. Not that he had anything against either of those since he was used to it, but he had tried that before and Valerie just didn't seem as interested as she would usually be.

It sort of made him feel like a failure as a father. There had to be something they would enjoy doing together right? Hell, even Lucy enjoyed being run around by Thomas.

"What sounds good for breakfast topolina?" Tony asks as Valerie climbs down from the bed.

"Fwench toast."

Well, that was easy. "French toast it is." Tony says.

Stephen crouches in front of Valerie when he finishes getting dressed and brushes her hair back. "I'll be back later. Have fun with Daddy, okay?"

"Okay."

Stephen kisses her forehead and gets back up to grab his sling ring off the nightstand, and waits just long enough after opening a gateway to wait for Levi to fly into the room and hang on his shoulders. Then he and Athena were through the gateway and it closed behind him, leaving Valerie to stare forlornly at the space it had been. Tony gently pats her head before leading her out of the master bedroom.

"Where's Mooey? Why don't you go get him and you can help me with breakfast." Tony suggests.

"Can we have fwuit?" She asks softly.

"We sure can." Tony smiles. "We can even have some chocolate chips on our french toast if you want."

Valerie smiles and nods before skittering away to her room to find her stuffed cow. A smile from a promise if chocolate chips was a good start to their day, and he would make sure they had a fruit salad with all of her favorites. So with that thought in mind, he descends the stairs to the kitchen where he deposits Lucy into her high chair and answers her demands when she smacks her hands on her tray.

"You are your mother's daughter...but don't tell him I said that." Tony mumbles and searches through the cupboards for the baby cereal puffs. "Look at that! Apple cinnamon flavor, your favorite!"

He pulls out the container and opens it to pour a dozen pieces onto Lucy's tray and she immediately grabs one and pops it into her mouth, humming happily. Lucy would be fed some proper breakfast later, but the puffs would tide her over until he and Valerie cooked and ate their own food. When he started to grab all they would need to make breakfast, Valerie finally joined him with Mooey in one of her arms, and he grabbed a step stool for her to use.

He gave her the easier tasks such as cracking the eggs and putting some cinnamon in them before it was whisked, and while he cooked the french toast, she washed the fruit. Strawberries, grapes, bananas, and even some kiwi were thrown into a bowl after Tony helped her cut them into pieces, and Valerie carefully mixed them together before stepping down from the stool and carrying the bowl to the table. It was amazing how independent Valerie was already being in her own way. She loved helping any way she could and even got a little upset when something was beyond her capabilities. Like when Stephen got sick. She was able to help make him soup but not much else and hated that there wasn't more she could do to make her mommy feel better.

William had to distract her most of the time, and the other times he had to reassure her. Tony and Stephen didn't like the girls to go into their room if one of them were sick because they didn't want them to get sick too.

"Here we go. Piping hot toast with…" Tony makes a show of topping Valerie's french toast with a few chocolate chips and she giggles. "Chocolate chips as promised. Buon appetito."

"Tank you Daddy," Valerie says softly when he places the plate on the table in front of her. He cuts it up for her before kissing her temple and then gets his own plate before sitting across from her.

"Want syrup?" He asks and grabs the syrup dispenser he had filled with warm syrup and pours a little bit on her toast.

"Ba!" Lucy reaches out and Tony chuckles and puts a drop on his finger to stick in her mouth.

"There. Like it? You don't get anymore." Tony says as Lucy sucks on his finger.

Tony made quick work of his french toast and fruit so he could feed Lucy before she started to demand more syrup. He grabbed a jar of chicken and rice--which made him gag a little when he opened it-- and a spoon, then offered a spoonful to the infant. He really didn't understand how babies could like the meat purees. He didn't dare try it in case it tasted as bad as it smelled, and the vegetables weren't much better. Tony was seriously considering giving the task of feeding Lucy her meat and vegetables to the Avengers.

Or the boys if they misbehaved. He knew for a fact the smell hit Peter harder.

"All done." Valerie announces.

"Great job." Tony glances at her plate. "You sure polished your plate. Go ahead and go watch your movie while I finish feeding your sister."

"Kay."

Valerie gets down from her chair and grabs her plate, carrying it to the sink and carefully lifting it up to drop it in. She checked her hands to see if they needed to be washed, found them clean, and shuffled to the living room and asked Friday to put on her favorite movie. Tony smiled and finished feeding Lucy and cleaned her up before taking her to the playpen in the living room, and then returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. With how quiet things were, Tony honestly would have forgotten that Valerie was even there. All he heard was the tv and Lucy...and the water running.

How Stephen and William remembered her when she was this quiet was nothing short of amazing, but the thought sounded terrible to him at the same time. He didn't forget about Valerie, not by a long shot, but if someone told him they came by and took her to do something, he would be inclined to believe them. But she was sitting on the couch with Mooey clutched in her arms when he finally finished cleaning up and sat on the couch next to her.

"So...I thought of an idea." Tony smiles when Valerie looks up at him.

"Idea?"

"Yup. I think Tibbs is around here somewhere and he's due for his next pedicure."

Valerie's eyes brighten and she giggles. "Dia and Cassie do that!"

"Well I think it's our turn."

The little girl hopped off the couch to go find the pet safe nail polish and Tony looked around for the cat. It didn't take long to find Tibbs dozing in a patch of sunlight on the floor and the feline protested with an annoyed meow when Tony scooped him up.

"I don't know why you bother throwing a fit." Tony snorts as he carries Tibbs back over to the coffee table where Valerie was already waiting. "What color is he getting today topolina?"

"Purple!"

Tony laughs. "Purple it is."

Once Tony sets Tibbs down, Valerie gently takes one of the cat's paws and carefully applies the polish to each nail. Tibbs, the ever chill cat, sat calmly after yawning and patiently let the little girl do his nails. He was more than used to letting the girls do stuff like this to him and knew eventually they would finish and let him go so Tony wasn't worried about him scratching. All the other animals got pedicures as well.

Even Emir.

"Tibbs gets tweats!" Valerie says after finishing.

"He sure does. You know where they are." Tony says and Valerie gets up to retrieve the cat treats.

She shook the bag as she returned from the lower cabinets in the kitchen, and Tony laughed when the cat's ears perked up. Tony helped his daughter open the bag and she grabbed a small handful which she held out and let Tibbs eat straight from her hand. While the cat purred contently, Tony glanced over at Lucy to find the baby fast asleep with her teething ring still in her mouth.

"Where's the Play-Doh Uncle Steve got you?" Tony asks and Valerie points towards her room. "Go get it. We'll make some sculptures."

"You too?" She asks.

"Me too. You can show me how to make flowers."

Once again, the little girl scurried away, leaving Tony with The Little Mermaid to fill the silence, but soon enough, Valerie came back with an armful of containers of Play-Doh. She sets them down on the coffee table before sitting on Tony's lap, and he smiles as she starts opening the containers and taking out the clay. They spent the next couple of hours shaping the clay into different things, from flowers to Tony's suits, until they were rudely interrupted by Lucy's teething ring. Specifically when it sailed into the air and hit the side of Tony's head.

"I'm guessing it's time for lunch." Tony snorts and lifts Valerie out of his lap, groaning as he gets up from the floor. "Daddy's getting too old for this."

"Burro di arachidi e gelatina?" Valerie requests.

"Yes ma'am. With milk." Tony says as he walks over to the playpen and picks up Lucy. He sniffs and grimaces. "After I change your sister."

Valerie wrinkles her nose. "Yucky."

"You said it. You finish your sculpture and then we can make lunch and watch a movie. Sound good?" Tony asks.

"Uh-huh."

Tony couldn't believe he was worried about this just this morning. He enjoyed playing with the clay with Valerie, and he was pretty sure she enjoyed herself too. He made a mental note to think of more things to do for the future days like this, with another side note to think of things that Lucy could eventually join in on. The baby was growing up fast and wouldn't be content to stay in the playpen forever.

"Phew." Tony reels back a little when he opens the baby's diaper once he gets her on the changing table in the master bathroom. "Are you taking lessons from Harley?"

[yeojaa]

home sweet home.

[ read devil in a new suit ]

i just really, really wanted to explore a bit about kook’s family because i think it shines a big light on who this adorable baby is.  i hope you enjoy!  xo

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  you’ll get cavities from reading this, honestly.  but also, very light smut in the form of:  inappropriate bullet egg use and tit groping (again, kook is a boob guy).  wc.  1.7k.

You meet his parents on a Sunday afternoon, invited to their palatial home for family brunch. It’s the first one you’ve been invited to, despite the fact you and Jungkook have been dating for what feels like forever (but in reality is only six months).  

Mama Jeon is an intimidating woman with a deceptively sweet face, aging gracefully around her eyes, the barely there lines upon her hands doing little to detract from her beauty.  She holds herself with immeasurable grace, practically dances into her son’s embrace when the two of you step into the modernist’s dream, chicly decorated and swathed in neutral tones.  It reminds you vaguely of Jungkook’s apartment - but decidedly more refined.  Same colour palette, though. 

“Jungkook-ah,”  she hums, patting adoringly at his cheek when he passes a kiss against hers, looking every inch the mama’s boy he is. 

“Eomma,”  he returns, so giddy it makes your heart soar in your chest.  He’s so easy to love - and so easily loving, offering the world to the woman who’d raised and loved him.  Two hands - the picture of respect - pass over the box of pastries you’d picked up on your way, the bag of too-expensive fruit topping the container.  (Apparently, his mother loves grapes, but only green ones.)  “These are for you— from us.”

Now is when he gestures to you - standing just to the side, beyond his shoulder - with a flourish comparable to that of a game show host.  It’s adorable how eager he is, beaming proudly at his eomma as he reaches for your hand, squeezes it tight between his own tattooed one.

When she turns to you, her expression is inscrutable. 

This woman isn’t someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, offers pleasantries for the sake of it.  She’s confident and critical (but soft, somehow, for the people she loves most), forged from steel and refined by experience.  You’re simultaneously awed and afraid, a mixture of emotion you’re not quite used to.

She levels you with a look.  A moment passes, then another.  You wonder if your smile falters, eclipsed by the grey of her stare.  (You feel like that one girl from that one movie about those crazy rich… what was it?)  

Finally, she speaks, drags her eyes from your shoes - red Ferragamo pumps, with the signature bow detailing on the toe - up to your face.  It feels more like a stringent assessment than a casual perusal, stirring heat beneath the colour of your blouse.  You’re not nervous, per se, but you want her to like you.  Right now, you can’t tell if she does - probably have a higher chance of winning the lottery than getting an answer.  “Lovely to meet you, ____.”  Her tone is warm enough, polite and paired with a tiny nod of her sophisticat head.

The patriarch of the family is the opposite of his mother, endlessly genial and full of booming laughter.  It reminds you a little of Jungkook’s own giggle, but somehow more - rounded by years and years of full-belly laughing and further ingrained by the wrinkles around his eyes.  

Just like his mother, Mr. Jeon is slim, good-looking in a way that comes from proper self-care and living an easy life.  (Not that it’d always been this way, you remind yourself.  Jungkook had told you how hard his parents had worked - all the long hours his father had put into getting where he was, able to support his wife and two children.)  He encourages his son’s stories and looks fondly at his daughter - the spitting image of her mother, with the same round stare as Jungkook.  

When your bowl runs empty, he makes sure it’s refilled, nodding in approval when his son is the one to make it happen.  When his wife makes an off-hand comment in response to a story, he’s the one to chide her, however gently.  He’s not nearly as sharp as she is, softly rounded edges like the toe of his slippers, the natural sag of his jaw with time.  

(You get it now. Meeting his parents for the first time, juxtaposed so hilariously against each other, it all makes sense.  Who Jungkook is, how he is equal parts soft and yielding and hesitant and distant.  Why he smiles so freely - with wrinkles you see aged nearly three decades in his father’s face - but loves so tenderly, offering it with whispers of affection that you might miss, should you look away.)

His father asks you questions like he really cares, nodding thoughtfully each time he learns a little bit more about you.

“How did you two meet?”  He’s bright-eyed, curious over the coffee mug he sandwiches in his grip.  You imagine he’s heard the story - must have heard some form of it in passing from Jungkook - but you appreciate his interest nonetheless.  He just wants to see the perspective from someone other than his lovestruck son.

You can’t help but laugh, sucking in your cheeks like you always do when you’re contemplative.  Jungkook shifts at your side, drops his inked palm over your covered knee and squeezes.  You’re not sure whether he’s reassuring you or himself with the gesture.

“He actually kept coming into my store.”  It’s not a lie.  Certainly not as scandalous as the full truth, but a truth nonetheless.  That is how you’d met.  

“Your store?”  It’s Jisoo, curious and pretty from her seat where she’s still picking at the desserts you’d brought over.  (She’s a fan of tart and tangy flavours, unlike her brother.)  “Do you own a shop or something?”

You wonder how much she knows.  You know she’s younger than either you or your partner, a student at Korea National University.  Part of their dance program, if you’re not mistaken.  You’d heard all about it a few weeks ago, when she’d sent a video to Jungkook and he’d raved about it nonstop, so proud of his little sister you couldn’t even make fun of him.

“I work at CELINE.”  

That earns a noise of delight from Jisoo (together with an “oh my god, that’s so cool”) and a polite albeit disinterested nod from Mr. Jeon (if his nondescript but stylish clothes are any indication, luxury fashion isn’t his top priority).  

What you don’t expect - what you just barely not from the corner of your eye - is the surprise written across Mrs. Jeon’s expression.  As if she’s just learned something groundbreaking.  

“You have a job?”  Maybe she doesn’t mean it how it comes out, disbelieving and abrupt.  You don’t let it rub you the wrong way, nodding.  (You know where she’s coming from - you feel the same way about his exes as she does, it seems.)  She’s hardly looking at you now, though, gaze trained on her beloved son.  There’s a silent conversation happening between them - something you’re not privy to, an exchange held only with those matching eyes of theirs.  

He’s upon you the moment he climbs into his car, clumsily knocking against the centre console as he drags your body closer, forces your knees apart with his hand unceremoniously shoved all the way into your silk crepe trousers. 

“She likes you.”  The words are muffled against your lips - already spit slick and swollen by how savagely he attacks them, tugs your bottom between his teeth and nibbles.  

You know he means his mother.  She’d hugged you on your way out, patted gently at your upper arm when she’d sent you both off with some leftovers in pretty ceramic containers.  It’d been a surprising farewell from the woman who had otherwise kept you at arm’s length through most of brunch, offering small smiles and exchanging only the basest of pleasantries.  

You have to admit - it feels a bit like taming a lion.  You’re high on the feeling and it seems Jungkook is too, utterly delighted as he drags his finger through the arousal that’s all but ruined your thong, thin material shoved aside by his deft movements.

“Your sister?”  You laugh - sound bitten off by the edge of your teeth when he teases at your folds, presses the tip of his fingers over your clit and circles back enough times to make you shudder.

He’s sucking into the sensitive spot beneath your ear, catching your earlobe with the wet point of his canines.  “My mom,”  he mumbles, burying himself into your skin as if he’d happily live there, make a home between your bones if you’d let him.  (You would.)  “She hugged you.”  Hilariously enough, he sounds just as surprised as you.

“She did,”  you hum - sigh when the pressure in your abdomen increases, mirroring the same one between your legs.  He’s pulling gently at the cord peeking past your lips, tugging at the smooth pink egg snug within your pussy.  It’s not on now - not like it had been all through brunch - but it still feels absurdly good, perfectly shaped just the right amount of stimulation against your fluttering walls.

Jungkook makes the softest noise, one that sounds like his heart falling into place, his soul settling where it feels most comfortable.  It’s at odds with the way he gropes your chest over the smocked bodice of your blouse, seeking out the hardened bud of your nipple beneath layers of chiffon and macrame.

The tiny vibrator continues fucking into you, muscle walls clenching around it each time he yanks on the cord and then lets it fall back into place.  You wish it were his fingers (wish it were his cock, more than that) but your pants fit too-well, tailored slim around your waist and flaring over your ankles. 

Your 70’s pants, as your silly boyfriend liked to call them.

“I can’t wait to get you home.”  It’s so dreamy, hazy with affection that overwhelms you.  He’s looking at you so sweetly now, forehead resting against yours, entire palm pressed to your cunt.  “K-knew you were always perfect but—”  You lose sight of his lovely doe eyes, your own sliding closed when he stamps a kiss to your mouth, so terribly sweet it’s reminiscent of the cheesecake you’d just had.  

You understand what he means without him having to finish the thought, smile of your own acting as the ending punctuation to your conversation. 

Family means everything to him.  Now, you were one step closer to being part of it.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​​ @codeinebelle​​

[his0kasbungeegum]

[regrets pt.2] katsuki bakugo x reader

genre: some angst, then fluff

characters: bakugo katsuki, mina ashido, mineta’s also mentioned

a/n: tbh this isn’t the best and i’m sorry it’s so long :( j hope u guys like it tho :)

For the next week, you went out of your way to avoid Bakugo however you could. You conveniently developed a fever the day classes started, so you just sat in your dorm all day, only leaving to get groceries for yourself. Soon enough, Mina, your closest friend, deduced that something was wrong and decided to approach you about it.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day of school you’d missed, and everyone was starting to trickle back into the dorms. As per usual, you were sitting in your room, trying to ignore your lack of appetite and sipping some broth. A knock at your door sounded, surprising you, but you slowly walked over to the door and opened it slightly. “Hey Mina,” you coughed, trying to make your voice sound normal but failing miserably.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with concern. She entered your room, pulling you by the elbow and closing the door behind her. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too well.”

She wasn’t wrong. Your eyes were puffy, your hair was undone and frizzy, your face was flushed, and your throat was raw. You nodded, coughing into a tissue that you were clutching in your hand.

“This has to be more than just a cold,” she said, feeling your forehead with the back of her hand. “What happened? Is it something to do with Bakugo?” she inquired. Upon seeing your expression after she said the last word, she knew she’d guessed correctly. “You can tell me anything,” he said, hugging you tightly from the side.

Seeing as you had no other choice, you agreed and told her what happened, starting from when Iida confessed to you. By the end, she was seething. “I’m going to kill him,” she growled, her eyes flashing.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You know I could kill him myself if I really wanted to.”

“You could,” she agreed, giggling.

A quick knock at the door interrupted both of you. “Come in,” you called.

Asui poked her head in the entrance. “Sorry to interrupt! Aizawa Sensei said he wanted us at the training center as soon as possible,” she called, looking at you sympathetically. “Y/N, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling weakly. Mina gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, then stood up. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!” she exclaimed as she left.

For the rest of the evening, you continued your usual routine of attempting to keep your fever down with alternating medications and foods. Before you knew it, you fell asleep in a bundle of warm blankets, your thin clothes sticking to you in a layer of sweat even though you still felt cold.

A sudden chill breeze running through your room woke you up. The bed creaked as you clambered out of it, padding over to the window and closing it. You reached for a thermometer to check your temperature: 102 degrees. Your fever hadn’t gone down in the slightest. You reached for your usual medicine, but not a single pill fell into the palm of your hand. Going through every medicine in your cabinet, not a single one was full, and you realized you were out of options. You needed to get to the convenience store and get some.

Your teachers and friends had been getting your supplies for you recently, since it was too cold outside for you to go alone. But considering it was around 2 in the morning and you didn’t want to wake anyone, you decided this was something to do by yourself.

The glistening moonlight illuminated the clothes hanging in your closet as you rifled through them, trying to find the warmest ones. You settled on a pair of winter stockings under a skirt and a fleece sweater with a cardigan on top. The rest of your warm clothes were being laundered, so that was all you had. Teeth chattering, you closed the door behind you with shaking hands and reached into your pocket to make sure you had money. Upon feeling the paper, you walked outside, the harsh wind whipping your face and turning it raw.

It took you half and hour longer than it should’ve, but you eventually reached the store and bought the medicine. It was a pill that you needed to dissolve in water, so you had to wait to take it until you got back to your dorm. However, your health was rapidly declining. It was irrefutable that you were one of the strongest in Class 1-A. In fact, some would’ve said you were the strongest. But what use did your quirk have against an incredibly high fever? As you tried to put one shaking foot in front of the other on the cement sidewalk, your head began to hurt and your vision began to blur. Trying to shake off the dizziness and nausea, you kept your head down, focusing on walking.

Through this haze, you barely heard someone call your name. But you merely passed it off as your imagination, considering your state of delirium. However, this time, the voice snapped you out of it. “Y/N?” called Bakugo, his tone unmistakable.

Your heart fluttered without your permission. If you could, you would stop it, but who can control their feelings? Honestly, it was terrifying to you that even though he’d hurt you so bad, your heart still fell for him. But your mind knew better, and you knew you had to listen to it.

The red flush on your cheeks from the wind grew redder as you felt Bakugo’s warmth beside you, gripping your elbow. “Hey, are you stupid? Why are you out in the cold like this? And especially at night?” he exclaimed harshly.

“Let go of me,” you mumbled, using all your strength to rip your arm from his grip.

“I know you hate me right now,” he said, a note of hurt in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrow at his tone, never hearing him speak with such regret before. “But I’m not going to let you die out here because of me.”

“I can take care of myself,” you said. Even speaking it, you realized how stupid you sounded. You were barely able to get your voice out, much less physically walk all the way back to the dorms.

At the moment, you were thankful your face was hidden by the wind whipping your hair, because if Bakugo could see the blush on your face as he wrapped an arm around you for support, he would’ve known your feelings instantly. He helped you back to the dorm in silence, the bleak, cold landscape providing both of you company. “If you ever say anything about this to anyone, I’ll kill you,” you growled, managing to keep your teeth from clicking for that one sentence.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied haughtily. Not long after, both of you were inside Class 1-A’s dorm and approaching your floor. All you really remembered after that was having some grape-flavored medicine poured down your throat, then sinking under the warm covers.

The orange glow behind your eyelids served as a catalyst to your waking, as you groaned and flipped over. You became aware of the ungodly amount of blankets you had on top of you, and you kicked a couple off your bed.

You were received with a surprised grunt, followed by a couple curses. You quickly opened your eyes and sat up, immediately alert. Looking down, you were greeted with a head of ash-blonde hair attached to a grumpy-looking highschooler with an irritable look on his face.

“Bakugo? What are you doing here?” you said in surprise, relaxing back down now that you knew you weren’t being attacked.

“I just stayed. Not because of you or anything, just because I was tired,” he said quickly, looking away with a pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Not because of me, huh?” you asked playfully, seeing through his lies.

“Shut up,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “But Y/N, I know I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I definitely didn’t mean it. I only said it because I was, well,” he continued, trailing off.

“You were what?”

“Jealous,” he said, pouting. Taking a quick look at you, he realized how much you were enjoying this. “Hey! This is hard for me, you know. Stop that!” he exclaimed, upon seeing that you were just laughing more.

“And why were you jealous?” you asked, still laughing a little.

“You know.”

“Well, I want you to say it. Don’t you owe me at least that?”

“Fine,” he relented. “I was jealous because I like you.”

You smiled to yourself upon finally hearing the words you’d waited on for so long. “Bakugo, I think you already know how I feel about you. But what you said isn’t something I can forget easily, so I’m going to need a little bit of time, okay?” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I can deal with that,” he replied, stretching his arms.

The creak of the door opening alerted both of you, and you turned your heads there in surprise. “Hi Y/N! Everyone’s here to make you feel better!” called Mina, opening the door. Once she saw Bakugo, her eyes went wide and she blushed. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! Let’s go you guys, Y/N’s busy!” she called, slamming the door shut.

“What? Bakugo gets to sleep in Y/N’s room? He’s so lucky!” complained Mineta, his voice muffled from behind the door.

“Hey, what was that, you shrimp?” yelled Bakugo, throwing the covers off of him. You simply laughed, glad that things were restored to semi-normalcy for now.

tags: @bonbonthedragon

[astrablossom]

Fairy MC Headcanons with Brothers and Undateables SFW & NSFW

*Gender is not specified

Lucifer: You probably met him one day when Diavolo asked him to search for a certain kind of flower located deep in the Devildom woods.

As it turns out the flower was actually your home and Lucifer was surprised when he sees a very naked fairy squeaking in his face, looking rather upset. Eventually after much consideration he offers for you to stay in The House of Lamentation. He forces you to wear some type of clothing despite your complaints. At first he isn't very keen to having you in his ear constantly but you prove useful when you can spy on his brothers.

NSFW: Fairies often times prefer to be in the nude, it's natural to them. So when he catches you naked he is quick to punish you. Will tie your body up with crazy precision and spreads your legs open. Will poke your sex around with a safe tool and watch you come undone on his table. His red eyes examine your body the whole time.

Mammon: When Lucifer brought you in he didn't think much of it. It wasn't until he realized you were squealing on him to Lucifer that he got annoyed. Be prepared for him to use you in quick-fix money schemes. He might ask you to bust into Diavolo's castle because you're super tiny. Eventually you two become good friends and he finds you really cute when you take naps in his hair. Will avert his eyes if he sees you naked. You are also someone he can talk too when he feels down in the dumps and appreciates when you just listen to him.

NSFW: It's funny how a tiny fairy has so much power over this avatar. He really likes when you sit down on his face and allow him to eat you out. Likes when you praise him for how big his tongue is. If you're elf size he enjoys watching you trying to suck his dick in one go. He kind of likes coating you head to toe in his spunk and watching you lick it up.

Leviathan: It takes awhile before he starts talking to you and if you're a delivery fairy he'll thank you sometimes for delivering his packages. Will definitely ask you to dress up as Ruri-Chan. You're the perfect size and you look like a limited edition with your wings! Likes when you cheer him on during his games. He once posted a picture of you scarfing down a grape with the hashtag #gremlinfairy.

NSFW: What that tongue do though. And the tail. If you talk it out and reassure him that he won't hurt you he'll wrap his tail around you and lift your tiny body in the air as he pushes his tongue into you. A forked tongue feels different because he can flick it with accuracy. Will have you cumming in minutes. He might take photos to stash away. If you try to pleasure him go for his nipples and he'll be putty in your hands.

Satan: Very curious about meeting you. He's seen his fair share of fairies but now he is living with one. You two are reading buddies and sometimes you'll take turns reading a book. You'll make book sessions on Friday, Satan with a copy in his hand and you sitting on a nearby table with a big copy in front of you. He finds it adorable when you have to stand up to turn the whole page. At times he'll let you read on his shoulder.

NSFW: Will ask for you to reenact some scene from his favorite novels concerning a fairy and a being from hell. Has you dressed up in the same outfit describe in the book and you speak your lines, watching Satan slowly approaching you on the bed. It's honestly intimidating. He uses his teeth to shred your clothes and will press his finger into you as you two reenact the lewd scene. You were so so tiny, he thinks he might have a size kink. Likes when you kiss him too. Even if they size difference is evident the sessions are more hot.

Asmodeus: Find you extremely adorable and vouches with you for Lucifer to lift the nude ban. He likes dressing you up in all sorts of outfits and takes you shopping a lot. Enjoys poking your cheek and feeding you food. The both of you take baths together and he thinks it cute seeing a tiny fairy swimming in his bath. Will probably post pictures of you on his Devilgram. When you paint his nails it's so accurate and he sobs over it.

NSFW: Will ask if you take nude photos with him. Not for lewd reason but because he knows you're comfortable like that. He believes nudity is a art in it's own right and with the help of Mammon you two will have a private photoshoot. One photo Asmodeus likes the most is with you peeking behind a rose meanwhile his intimate parts are littered with it, him looking up the air. You both look amazing and make the front cover of the Devildom equivalent of Vogue. (Douge? Devouge? Devilouge?)

Beelzebub: Someone's been eating his food. And whenever he looks at it, it's always small nibbles so he knows it isn't his brothers. One night when he goes to eat a midnight snack he finds you in the fridge head deep in one of his puddings. At first he is upset but when he sees you looking up at him with the puppy eyes he let's you off with a warning. You start to see little treats being left around for you. Will also give you rides on his head. If you go to his games he can't hear you cheer but he knows you're there.

NSFW: Afriad he'll accidentally eat you so you have to get a little bigger before he does anything. He doesn't have a size kink per say but there is something very cute about him pushing you back till your toes are above your head and sinking his cock into you that makes him blush. The size difference is crazy and the faces you make makes him more eager to screw you into the sheets. When he is done he leaves a huge gaping hole in you, cum oozing out and it reminds him of frosting. Now he's hungry again. Expect snacks in bed after cleanup.

Belphegor: Finds you incredibly annoying, especially when you accidentally knock something down and wake him from his nap. You have to steer clear of him for a bit. However there was this one time he was going to sleep in the living room only to see you asleep on top of a pillow, snoozing away. You looked super comfortable and he smirks before yelling in your ear. The bastard chuckles when you start screaming at him to apologize, pulling his cheek as to try and inflict pain.

NSFW: The bratty demon is lazy as fuck so you'll have to do the work. He'll keep his tongue out, occasionally sucking as you try to find release on his face. However if you catch him in breeding season you have to become elf size because he will grab you and lock himself in the attic with you. The amount of energy he has is crazy and so is the look in his eyes. Will continuously pound into you in front a mirror, growing in your ear at how his cock is making a indent in your stomach. When he cums he cums. This dude is so backed up and will have cum oozing out of all your holes. And then he will probably eat it out of you. That's the only time he gets super active. Other times you can try waking him up with a little suck to his morning wood.

Diavolo: Constantly always looking around for you because he can hear your voice but you're so tiny it takes a while for him to see you. When he busy with a lot of paper work, you'll quietly fly in with a tea bag in your hand and buzz around making tea before landing upside down on his nose, reminding him to take a break. You'll sprinkle a bit of fairy dust from your wings to make it taste sweeter and he thanks you for that.

You once called him out for staring at Simeon's hips too long and he doesn't even feel embarrassed. He is simply enjoying the view.

NSFW: Haha. Big dick energy to the rescue. Will you be able to walk after this? One time he shoved himself too fast and you came from just the pressure alone. He likes to adorn you with his riches, admiring how some of it slinks over your tiny form and will ask you to masturbate for him. Even if he's doing work he is watching you so don't you dare stop. He demands for you to spread your legs and will have little mirrors set before you so he can see you from all angles. When you do cum it's all over his riches and he gets a high from knowing you are his. If you're elf size you can only fit the tip in your mouth, you gotta use your whole body to get him off and he have you doing this even during work hours. You're like a koala wrapped around his monster dick.

Barbatos: You two barely talk beyond basic greetings but sometimes you'll help in the kitchen, flying down ingredients and taste testing for him. If you two are having a tea break he'll make sure to have a tiny tea cup just for you. Smiles when you eat the strawberry blood biscuits he made while you converse about non practical things.

NSFW: He doesn't have a lot of free time so the most you two can do is quick make out sessions which ends with you having to deal with his erection. Barbatos makes soft fluttery moans to your surprise and cums a lot from being backed up. He'll apologize if he gets too much on you but be prepared for his day off, he pay you back tenfold.

Solomon: Shady boy here just like Satan finds you interesting and will poke at you to tell him more about your species. He lets you lay on his hair for naps. Will bottle your fairy dust for later use and introduces you to Luke and Simeon. There was this one time you followed him to one of his meetings concerning his pact and never did you looked at him the same way again.

NSFW: Being around demons and angels does a little number to his ego so please talk about how big his dick is if you catch on. Will probably whip up a spell so you're human size and can get down properly. Although he isn't the biggest he makes up in technique. He really likes when you wear his robes and surprisingly likes when you try to cover your mouth not to moan. It means he's doing a job well done.

Simeon: Very kind and sweet to you and makes his famous BLT devil sandwich which was a blessing. You two will often joke about Lucifer and Diavolo and- oh is his cheeks getting a bit warm? There is something in his eyes you can't pinpoint when he talks about his time with Lucifer. Sometimes you watch movies with him. He'll have a bucket of popcorn meanwhile you have a kernel in your lap.

When you called out Diavolo for staring at him he gets slightly flustered and looks away abashed. He misses the smirk Diavolo shoots him and you catch on quickly.

NSFW: Catch him praying that he doesn't become fallen for committing such sinful deeds. Very vanilla and is always asking how you feel. When he pressed his tongue against you, you can see how concentrated he is. If you're pleasing him he lets out small sighs and praises you immensely. Occasionally you'll hear him saying "forgive me."

Bonus!

Luke (SFW Only): You two become friends immediately. The puffiness of his hat amazes you and you like to sit on it although he complains. Will give him fairy recipes and aid him in cooking. His cheeks are so adorable and you find yourself pinching them which feel weird to him. If you complain about the brothers he'll feel pity for you.

[bluejayblueskies]

storge

n. familial love, born out of familiarity or dependence; a natural, unforced, instinctual love

Words: 3.3k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationships: Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Tim Stoker (background)

Characters: Tim Stoker, Danny Stoker, Sasha James, Minor OCs

Additional Tags: AU - No Supernatural, AU - Everyone Lives/No One Dies, Internalized Acephobia/Arophobia, Implied/Referenced Arophobia (minor), Aromantic Character, Asexual Character

Summary:

Danny finished the last slice of the pizza they’d ordered, stared at the credits scrolling across Tim’s television screen from the cheesy Valentine’s Day rom-com they’d just finished watching, and said with feigned casualness, “I don’t think that’s for me.”

Tim, who had wanted that last slice of pizza, thank you very much, rolled his eyes and said, “Well, then I’m picking the pizza toppings next time. Maybe then we won’t have a pizza that only tastes like jalapeños.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Last time you put pineapple and pepperoni on it, which is grounds for termination from topping-decisions for life.” Danny paused, and then he took his eyes away from the television, looked at Tim, and said, with distinctly less casualness, “I meant the movie. Um. The romance part, specifically.”

Read on Ao3

Or, read below (additional warnings below the cut):

Additional warnings: - character forcing himself to stay in a romantic situation even after he becomes uncomfortable - character mentioning the possibility of forcing himself to have sex with someone (doesn’t actually occur)

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So here’s the thing: Tim is terrible at giving gifts. It doesn’t matter how long he’s known someone or how many of their favorites he can list off the top of his head—he still always ends up getting them something so incredibly, horribly generic because he just can’t do it. Sasha’s never going to let him live down the time he got her the exact same mug she keeps in the archives because he panicked, okay? And it was the only thing he could think of that wasn’t just candles or soap.

 (“I honestly would have preferred soap,” Sasha said as she covered her mouth with one hand to stifle her laugher, the other still grasping the mug. Tim was significantly less amused.)

 The one silver lining to the whole thing is that it’s never been a problem with Danny. Not because Tim is necessarily any better at getting gifts for him, but because Danny treats each and every gift from Tim like it’s something incredibly special and unique. Once, Tim got him a six-pack of plain black socks—just to test his theory that Danny was just being nice, or maybe just as a joke (or possibly both)—and Danny said, with a million-dollar smile, “You know, I was just thinking the other day how cool it would look to pair a patterned sock with a black one. This is great, Tim!”

 Yeah, Tim’s pretty sure that Danny’s just fucking with him at this point. But honestly, Tim doesn’t really mind. It takes a lot of pressure off him during any of the traditional gift-giving seasons because he knows that whatever he gets Danny, Danny will just smile and thank him like it was what he’d always wanted.

 Maybe that’s why Danny does it, Tim thinks as he stares at the dozens of tabs open on his computer, each for a different online retailer. To relieve the pressure.

 If so, then Tim’s really ruining the whole thing now, isn’t he? Because instead of doing that follow-up Jon requested two days ago, Tim’s been agonizing over whether to get a mug or a shirt or a pin, or maybe something more personal like those sunglasses he’d seen the other day, or—

 Or maybe something from the million other terrible ideas Tim’s had. With a long, drawn-out groan, he pushes back from his desk, stands with a too-loud pop of his back that has Sasha glancing up from her paperwork with a grimace, and makes his way to the breakroom.

 He needs coffee.

 As he waits for the pot to brew—because he’s the only one who drinks coffee in the archives (and yes, Sasha’s intricately named espresso beverages are technically coffee, but he doesn’t deign to count them)—he closes his eyes and tries to convince himself, yet again, that there’s a good reason he’s putting himself through this, and that no, it is not a stupid idea that has a ninety-nine percent chance of backfiring horribly.

 It had gone like this:

 Four months ago, Danny had finished the last slice of the pizza they’d ordered, stared at the credits scrolling across Tim’s television screen from the cheesy Valentine’s Day rom-com they’d just finished watching, and said with feigned casualness, “I don’t think that’s for me.”

 Tim, who had wanted that last slice of pizza, thank you very much, rolled his eyes and said, “Well, then I’m picking the pizza toppings next time. Maybe then we won’t have a pizza that only tastes like jalapeños.”

 “Oh, absolutely not. Last time you put pineapple and pepperoni on it, which is grounds for termination from topping-decisions for life.” Danny paused, and then he took his eyes away from the television, looked at Tim, and said, with distinctly less casualness, “I meant the movie. Um. The romance part, specifically.” Then, with a disarming smile: “I’ve got the comedy more than covered, after all. I told you I got that wedding gig, right? Maybe I can try some of my jokes on you.”

 Danny opened his mouth again, clearly ready to launch into a demonstration of his latest vocational pursuit, but Tim’s brain had finally parsed Danny’s words enough to say, maybe a bit too abruptly, “Hold on, hold on. Let’s go back to the romance bit, yeah?”

 He really, really hoped the statement had come off less accusatory and more encouraging. It must have worked because Danny’s smile faded into an expression that didn’t look afraid, only nervous. Still, Tim felt the need to add, with the edges of his words sanded down into something softer, “Obviously, you don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with. But I’m all ears.”

 “Mm, they are pretty big,” Danny quipped. “Only going to get bigger, too.”

 Tim just sat back on the couch, crossed his arms, and waited. The credits on the screen continued to roll, the peppy pop music that accompanied them disrupting what might have, in any other situation, been an awkward silence. It still felt like an awkward something.

 Then, Danny sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, worried it for a few seconds, and said, “Okay, so- you remember telling me about when you figured out you were ace, right?”

 “Right,” Tim said.

 “Right,” Danny echoed. He fiddled with the silver ring on his left thumb absently, like he always did when he was nervous or when he had a million things racing through his head and he was trying to decide which thread to pull that would make them all come together into a neatly-stitched pattern. “Well, I guess all the stuff you said about liking sex but not wanting it with anyone in particular got me thinking about things that I like. And, uh. Things that I don’t.”

 There was another pause. The television screen had gone dark and the silence that stretched over them didn’t feel awkward anymore. Just heavy. Danny gave the ring on his finger another twist and said, “It had never really occurred to me that I could like to do something but not with anyone in particular, you know? Like- okay, so I enjoy flirting. I think all those stupid, cheesy pickup lines are hilarious, and seeing how people react to them is really fun. I mean, sometimes people laugh, sometimes people get annoyed, and sometimes people blush. But I never want anything out of it, you know?”

 Danny stared at the blank screen; the profile of his face showed a smile, but the lines of his forehead and the creases around his eyes were tight. Wordlessly, Tim moved closer so that his shoulder pressed against Danny’s, light enough that it wasn’t oppressive but a grounding presence all the same. From the way that Danny relaxed slightly at the touch, Tim decided that it was a good move.

 “One time, actually, someone offered to buy me a drink. You would have liked him, Tim—he had this really strong jawline, little bit of a five o’clock shadow, bright red hair. So I got the drink, and we talked, and even though he was funny and I had to stop sipping my drink because I kept choking on it when he would tell another joke, I just had this itching underneath my skin, like I just couldn’t get comfortable. But,” Danny said with a tight smile, “I ignored it. I told myself, You flirted with him first, Danny Stoker, and this is what happens when you flirt with people. Sometimes, they flirt back. So I had my drink. And then another, you know, because drinks are like potato chips, you can’t have just one.

 “He didn’t ask me to- to come back to his place or whatever, which was- god, I don’t know what I would have done.” Danny bit his lip, leaned more heavily into Tim’s shoulder. “Probably would have said yes? And I don’t need you to tell me that that would have been stupid. I know.

 “Instead, he gave me his number on one of those fancy business cards—I don’t really remember for what company, I threw it away as soon as I got home—and told me to call him. And I knew, as soon as he said that, that I wasn’t going to. That it- it wasn’t fun anymore, because there was this expectation to deliver.” Danny’s forehead creased, and he shook his head slowly. “No, that’s- that’s not quite right. An expectation to reciprocate, maybe?

 “The thing is, the idea of romance and dating and all of that sounds interesting in theory, and sometimes I can even imagine myself doing it—albeit not with anyone in particular, just like as a thought exercise I guess. I tried, a few times, to put a specific face to whoever I was going on lovely Italian wine tours with or- or hand-feeding grapes to on a bed on some island. Tim, don’t make that face, wine tours and grape feeding are peak romance. Uh, I think.

 “Anyway, anytime I tried to imagine dating someone instead of just dating, I got that same itching feeling under my skin. And I thought, well, I’m just not picking the right people. It’s got to be someone I really like, you know, someone I care about. Clearly, red-haired guy had not been the one.

 “And then… I found someone. Her name was Ash and she was just everything I ever could have wanted. She was funny and brave and did this little thing with her nose when she laughed that made me laugh, and she was a much better rock climber than me but I was better at rappelling because she could never trust herself to lean back unless someone guided her down, and I really, really thought that it could be her, you know? I knew that I loved her, and even though most of my standard lines bounced right off her, a few stuck. If I tried, really tried, I even thought I could picture it: every single corny, cheesy date I’d ever imagined, with her face cut and pasted into the image. It was a bit like a bad Photoshop edit, you know, where the edges clearly didn’t fit? But I ignored it because it fit well enough, and she made me happy.”

 Danny took a long breath and let it out just as slowly. Tim thought of a million things to say, a million reassurances, that he eventually let sink to the back of his mind and dissipate. Instead, he fought back against the instinct to break the silence with a laugh or a word or just a noise and instead leaned further back against the couch. Patience was not his strong suit, but he could do it for Danny.

 Finally, Danny continued, “And then one day, she… she asked me out. I guess I must have looked pretty shocked because she laughed and said that she’d been flirting with me for weeks, just like I’d been with her, and so there was no need to look so surprised. The thing is, I hadn’t even noticed. Every time she’d made some joke and I’d laughed, I’d thought that was just normal. Being friends, you know? Maybe that’s stupid, given that I’d been flirting with her too. Maybe not. I don’t know.

 “I said yes. And spent the next four days regretting it. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. We were planning on going out to dinner that Friday, and the entire night before I got maybe an hour of sleep? I just kept thinking, you know, is she going to want to hold hands? Is she going to want to kiss me? Is she going to want to do more than kiss? What about other things, the wine and the grapes and rings and weddings and kids and—”

 Danny cut off with a sigh, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, so I called her an hour before I was supposed to meet her at the restaurant and said that something had come up and I couldn’t make it. Which was a lie of course, and I’m pretty sure she could tell because instead of asking what was wrong or what had come up, she just said okay. In a voice that sounded like it very much wasn’t okay. And when she hung up, I realized we hadn’t scheduled a new date. And it filled me with so much relief that I just felt guilty, because I still loved her, you know? And I just couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong, why I liked to flirt but felt so uncomfortable when it actually worked, why the idea of dating didn’t bother me until it became a reality, why every single ‘crush’ I had just felt so forced even if I cared about the person so much it hurt.

 “And then you told me that you were ace, and you talked about how it felt to be ace, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about Ash. I didn’t think that your situation was the same as mine, but it just—it felt close? So I finally thought to look up how I felt. And I’m still not one-hundred percent sure what label fits or whatever, but just knowing that there’s labels at all, that there are people out there who feel the way that I feel and that I’m not just- just doing it wrong—god, it was just this huge weight lifted off my shoulders.”

 Danny laughed, a bit harshly, born more of a release of nerves than of humor. “Is it a bit weird that I still really like to flirt? Maybe I should give a disclaimer before every pickup line: Hello, I’m Danny Stoker, I’m some flavor of aromantic and asexual, this flirting is purely platonic. Hmm, that’s a bit wordy.”

 Then, a smile cracked Danny’s face in two, tinged with more than a hint of devilish teasing. “Maybe I’ll make a business card.”

 Finally, Tim broke his vow of silence with a snort. He nudged Danny’s side with his elbow and said, “It can be a family venture. Stoker and Stoker, aspec brothers in crime.”

 Danny’s smile softened into something subtler, and he said, with an unusual amount of sincerity in his voice, “Thanks, Tim. I… I mean, I didn’t think you would react badly, but still. Thanks.”

 And Tim’s heart broke just a little, and he pulled Danny to his side and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Never,” he said firmly. “I’m really glad you told me, Danny. Really, really glad.”

 So yeah. Tim can’t mess this gift up, because Danny had trusted him with this part of himself, and Tim really, really wants to support him in every possible way. Even if that way involves cheesy novelty mugs striped with the colors of the aromantic flag.

 Ugh.

 Tim grabs his distinctly not cheesy plain black mug of coffee and makes his way back to his desk, entirely absorbed in a swirling mess of thoughts filled with blacks and greens and whites and purples. Which is why he doesn’t notice Sasha sitting at his desk until he nearly sits on top of her.

 “Christ,” Tim says, jumping back so quickly he nearly spills his coffee. Sasha barely acknowledges him; she’s too busy typing away at something on his computer, and when Tim looks over her shoulder, he realizes with a sickening horror that she’s closed all but a few tabs on his computer. Tabs that he’d carefully curated. Tabs that he needs.

 (Tabs full of indecision and terrible, terrible ideas. But he needs them all the same.)

 “I hope,” Tim says with a voice that’s only slightly on the saner side of panic, “that there’s a perfectly good reason why you’ve thrown a wrench the size of a small house into my gift planning process? Because otherwise, I am three seconds away from freaking out.”

 Sasha waves a hand at him, still not looking away from the screen. “All your gifts suck, Tim.”

 “Hey!”

 This time, Sasha does look at him, something apologetic in her eyes. “Sorry. But they do.”

 Sullenly, Tim says, “Danny doesn’t think my gifts suck.”

 Sasha sighs and turns back to the computer. “Danny loves you a lot more than he loves your gifts. But that’s not the point.” She types something on the keyboard, navigates through a few windows without even taking the time to look at their contents. “You’ve been scowling at your screen all day, Tim. And I know it’s not because of that Remmier case that Jon assigned because I finished that yesterday.”

 “Oh. Thank you?”

 “Yup. You owe me coffee.” Sasha types a few more things, squints at the screen, then makes a noise of triumph. “There. Get him that and thank me later.”

 Then, Sasha’s out of his chair and back at her own desk, leaving behind only a warmth that Tim can feel as he takes his own seat and finally gets a good look at what’s on the screen.

 Huh.

 Tim orders it. And a few days before Danny’s birthday, he has an idea. Maybe the only good gift-giving idea he’s ever had.

 So the next time he’s at the shop, he picks up some supplies. And for someone who majored in anthropology and doesn’t know the first thing about graphic design, he’s quite happy with the final product.

 And when Danny unwraps the box on his birthday, sat on Tim’s couch with empty boxes of Thai takeout in front of them, the first thing he sees are the cards, set right on the top. It’s a silly little design, a set of two mountains striped with the aromantic and asexual colors, and next to them:

 Stoker & Stoker, Inc.

Aspec brothers in crime

Where the flirting is platonic, NOT erotic!

 Underneath the cards, there’s a new climbing rope, striped with greens and whites and greys and blacks, and a matching set of metallic purple carabiners, something that Tim absolutely never would have thought of but that’s perfect nonetheless. Danny takes a card in one hand, runs the thumb of the other over the edge of the climbing rope, and looks at Tim.

 And Tim thinks he gets it, then. Why people put so much time and effort into giving people thoughtful, meaningful gifts. Because Danny’s expression isn’t fucking with him or relieving the pressure or just being nice or even this was what I’d always wanted. It’s something truer, something softer, something that sits in the pit of Tim’s stomach and burns softly, warming him gently from the inside out

 Yeah, Tim’s never going to be able to go back to generic gifts after this. He’s going to need a much larger coffee budget.

 (This conviction lasts, at least, until later in the evening, when Tim confesses that Sasha helped him with the gift and Danny laughs and says I figured, before saying in a quieter voice that the climbing equipment is great but the cards were Tim. That the black socks and novelty mugs and vanilla candles were generic but that they were Tim as well and that Danny had made it a game to try and guess what Tim was going to get him that year, keeping a bet with Sasha on how long it would take Tim to accidentally give him the same gift twice.

 Hey, Tim says, but his mouth is twisted into a smile. He ruffles Danny’s hair in that way he hates and says that he’ll stick to the basics from now on, then, and they put on some shitty comedy that Danny insists on watching and eat ice cream until their stomachs hurt.

 And if Tim sees Danny glancing at the business card every so often, wearing a smile so soft it’s almost melting, he certainly isn’t going to mention it.)

[mshermia]

Full Circle - Webpril 01: Field Trip

summary: Peter and MJ are less interested in the field trip and a little more invested in spending time with each other. Someone, who's not spending any time with MJ at all is Tony, very much to his annoyance...

read on AO3

#

Nothing could ever even compete with the way Peter's stomach would flip when he would swing through the urban canyon that was Manhattan. Sure, Queens was awesome, it was his home after all, and there came a special sense of accomplishment with protecting one's home. 

But there was absolutely nothing like swinging from one skyscraper to the next.

Now, it had been forever since Spider-Man had been seen in Manhattan. Not since that day he had climbed onto that spaceship. He hadn't gone out there patrolling for a while after that final battle. When he had put his suit back on for the first time, it had seemed more important than ever to stick to his own neighborhood.

But patrol was not why Peter was back in Manhattan.

He craned his neck, eyes narrowed as he looked up to the very top of the MetLife Building. The name pulled an uncomfortable cringe on his face. It wasn't right. Years ago, the Stark letters had stood up there, only to be replaced by the Avengers symbol after the invasion of New York.

A cold shiver ran down Peter's neck and his entire back spasmed at the sensation. Aliens. The purple grape man. He shook his head. All that was in the past. 

"Hey, you okay?" MJ's hand slipped into his, hidden by their jackets from the rest of the group.

Peter forced his lips into a smile. Well, it honestly came easy whenever he looked at her. His skin broke out in goosebumps once again, in a good way though. In a way that matched the crazy rhythm, the butterflies in his stomach were dancing to.

MJ squinted up at the very top of the building herself now. "You ever been up there? When this was still Stark's?" She kept her voice low. It hadn't taken her long to figure out just how far she had to drop her voice for her words to stay just between her and Peter's enhanced-hearing.

"Long time ago," Peter nodded. "A few parties and tests in the lab before he sold it."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, Penis."

Peter stumbled to the side as Flash push himself past them, right between him and MJ. With a heavy sigh, he stopped right in front of them, hands perched on his hip like he was supposed to be the center of attention.

"Actually, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results," Peter hisses through his teeth.

"Well, you would know, Penis, wouldn't you."

Peter's eyes flickered close in resignation, his arms tightly crossed in front of him.

"Get lost, Flash." MJ stepped back next to Peter and pushed him to the other side of the group.

"That's so sad," Flash laughed. "Look at you all whipped, Parker!"

"Just ignore him," MJ mumbled, eyes now on Mr. Harrington who was handing out lanyards to every student.

Peter nodded, eyes on his feet. It was embarrassing, always had been. It was way worse though with MJ right there to witness it. 

"Dude, I'm so psyched!" Ned had been first in line to get his lanyard, excitedly waving it in Peter's face. "How close do you think they'll let us get to it? You think we get to touch it? I mean at least the... the exterior... wall... thingy?"

Some of the tension fell off Peter. His lips slowly pulled back into a genuine smile at Ned's excitement. "Not the way you're buzzing, man... you'll have to be careful not to trigger a fission reaction."

Ned's face morphed into a mask of serious consideration. "That would kind of defeat the clean energy aspect."

Peter laughed. "Exactly!"

"But..." Ned's fingers were drumming against his chin like he was preparing for his full transmission to mad-scientist. "...it would get me Tony Stark's attention though for sure!"

"Ha," Peter barked. "Yeah, but not the kind of attention you're looking for, dude."

Ned grinned at him before he stormed back to the front of the line. Peter however decided to hang back after Mr. Harrington handed the last two lanyards out to him and MJ.

They walked into the lobby side by side though MJ didn't reach for his hand again. Instead, she was craning her head along with everyone else, looking at the oversized window fronts that were projecting different things from facts about the building's layout from floor 1 to 70, the different companies renting office space as well as the event plan for the next few months. When the Tower was still owned by Stark Industries they had had information on all kinds of things that were happening in SI buildings all over the planet projected there, all the way up to the tall ceiling of the entrance area.

"You ever seen one?" 

Peter glanced at her. "An arc?"

"Yeah." Her eyes were now following the lines of the interior design along the columns to the exquisite marble floor.

"I have. Not this one though," he shrugged. "They had one at the Compound upstate."

It had been where Peter had spent most of his real intern days, long after the Tower had been sold, after Toomes but before the purple grape man.

"Not this one? No parties next to the big bulb of energy then," she smirked.

Peter shook his head, glancing over at her. "Nah. Most of Tony's guests prefer the top floor to the basement."

That did get her attention. "The top floor, hm?"

She said it in a tone that made those butterflies in his stomach tumble excitedly. "Great view up there..." 

"Yeah, I bet." She held his gaze for a moment before a lady from the security team ushered them through the barrier.

The students in their group were bouncing excitedly, following behind the tour guide towards the line of elevators on the far side of the entrance area. 

"You know," MJ said, her tone as aloof as always. "I've always been more into architecture than energy technology. Structural engineering, that kind of thing."

Peter kept his eyes on the group, his fingertips buzzing with a new kind of excitement. "You love clean energy."

"I love to use it, but it's not like I necessarily want to build the things that generate it..."

Peter chanced another glance at her, MJ's eyes waiting to meet his. They were halfway across the room when Peter decided to hell with it, he'd just go for it. One hand on MJ's arm, he held her back for a couple of steps, letting the gap between the two of them and the group expand before he pushed her to the left, heading straight for another corridor that forked off and led to a single elevator.

They kept their heads low as they stole around the corner out of sight. The corridor was empty like it always had been even when this had been Mr. Stark's personal elevator. The doors opened right away as Peter pressed the call button and they both slipped into the waiting elevator car.

MJ shot a glance over her shoulder then grinned at Peter as the doors closed behind them. "You know, if they arrest us for this..."

"Can't arrest us for something they didn't outright ban us from, can they?"

One hand clutching her heart, MJ beamed up at him. "Peter Parker, I'm so proud. I bet they'll change the procedure from now on and move the lecture on which sections are off-limits to before they hand out these." She gave the lanyard around his neck a little flick.

Peter barked out a laugh. "Proud of how you're corrupting my pure innocent soul?"

She stepped a little closer to him. The hand that had just been resting on her heart came to lie on his cheek instead. "The circle is now complete." She leaned forward, her lips softly brushing against Peter's. "Student... master... someone becoming the other..."

The butterflies in his stomach, well... they were excited. Excited enough that a flush of heat was rising up to the very tip of his ears. His eyes were falling shut as he leaned against MJ, her lips warm and soft against his until his eyes flew back open. He leaned away from her just enough that MJ staggered forward a little, her eyes flickering open as well.

Peter studied her face, his mouth still gaping a little. "Did you just quote Star Wars to me?"

The confusion fell off her face. With an un-ladylike snort, she dipped her forehead against his shoulder. "Let's say it's your reward for the rule-breaking initiative." Her hand found his as she turned towards the elevator wall. "Let's do this." Her head spun back and forth a couple of times before Peter even caught on to what the problem was. "Wait, there's no control panel."

"Shit..." His heart sank. That tiny detail was going to ruin this for them. "No panel, it's voice-activated. Fuck, I forgot."

"So, you just say the floor and it gets you there. That's pretty cool." MJ looked up at the ceiling. "Level 70."

For a moment, they both froze in anticipation but the elevator didn't move an inch.

Peter rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. He was starting to sweat. This had been such a dumb idea. "You need clearance for it to work," he grimaced. "Shit, sorry. That was a bit anti-climactic."

Like he was taunting the universe, the doors of the elevator opened and both of them jumped in surprise.

"What up, Parker," Flash chimed up amused. "Trespassing, are we?"

"Jesus Christ, you gotta be fucking kidding me," Peter hissed under his breath, clutching his heart.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Ned was right behind Flash and followed him into the elevator car.

"Nothing. We were just leaving."

"Eww, were you trying to sneak off to hook up with her?" Flash made a face, his upper lip curled up as he looked from Peter to MJ and back. "What a sleazy move."

A bead of sweat was running down the side of Peter's face, anxiety clawing its way under his skin.

"Don't be such a perv, Flash." MJ had her arms crossed, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Whatever," Flash mumbled as the doors of the elevator shut again. He craned his neck looking around the car. "How does it move?"

"It's voice activated," both Ned and MJ groaned in union.

Peter squinted at Ned. "Wait, how did you even know where we went?"

"Saw you sneak off, didn't we... floor 70," Flash called out to the ceiling. When nothing happened, he pursed his lips. "Floor 70, please?"

Ned snorted, pulling a scowl onto Flash's face. "Well, I saw you. That one," he pointed at Flash, "just stalked me."

Eyes narrowed, Flash turned on Ned. "Maybe you should work on your sneaking skills if you don't want to be followed."

Ned waved him off. "You try it, Peter!" 

Excitement rang in Ned's voice, like Peter had the secret key to make this work. All it did was make his heart sink. It would have been bad enough to disappoint MJ, but Ned had just skipped out on the very thing he had been daydreaming of for years, seeing the arc, to follow them to a different adventure that Peter would not be able to deliver. Letting him down was even worse than embarrassing himself in front of Flash.

Peter pressed his eyes shut in resignation. There was no way the elevator would move. Without FRIDAY, he had no clearance. If it hadn't been for Flash and Ned, he might have made use of his web-shooters to steal up the elevator shaft with MJ... well, if it hadn't been for Flash... 

Still, he owed it to Ned to at least try. 

"Floor 70, please," Peter mumbled, resigned to the trip turning out to be the bust he had expected it to be.

His knees almost buckled underneath him as the elevator started to move.

"Woohoo!" Ned cheered, clapping him on the shoulder. "Dude, you did it!"

MJ grinned at him, only Flash looked a little pale around his nose. In all honesty, Peter didn't feel much better than Flash looked as the elevator was climbing higher and higher. This shouldn't have worked. He hadn't been in that building for, well 2 to 7 years, depending on who you'd ask. Tony had sold the Tower in 2016.

His head still a little fuzzy, Peter hesitated as the doors opened onto the top floor. He had almost expected them to crash some kind of function. That would have certainly explained why the elevator worked, but the entire floor was empty. It was almost eerie to see it like this when Peter had only ever experienced it lined with cocktail tables and packed with people in fine evening wear. 

"Shit, this is so cool," Ned mumbled, slowly advancing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Manhattan. "You can basically look right into the Chrysler Building!"

Flash had walked up next to him and waved towards the other building like a little kid waving at all the other cars passing through the rear window of a car. "You know, my dad said he's gonna buy this whole thing one day. So, if you ever want to be invited to one of my parties..."

"Well, he's a little late for that. I doubt the Tower will go back on the market for the next few decades."

Peter's insides froze. For a moment, he was hoping that it was just an illusion, that maybe he was just having a stroke or a minor concussion from patrol he hadn't noticed before. But when he turned, there was no doubt. The man that stalked towards them, decked out in a three-piece suit, dark shades on his face, was no other than Tony Stark.

Both his friends and Flash had turned at once.

Ned looked like he was hyperventilating while his high-pitched whisper rang through the room. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod..."

"Oh. My. God," Peter groaned. "What are you doing here?"

Tony gasped, his face pulled into affronted shock. "Is that how you greet your favorite Avenger?"

One hand twisted in his hair, Peter could only stare at him. "I can't believe this is happening right now," he mumbled, staring straight at Tony.

"Okay, while Peter is still trying to reboot that genius brain of his." Tony pointed at Ned who's eyes were in danger of bulging out of his head. "Ted, I presume. Don't know this one," he mumbled as he pointed to Flash, but then his attention singled in on MJ. He strode right past Peter, an outstretched hand extended to her. "That means you must be MJ..." 

MJ's eyes were wide, shifting from Tony over to Peter and back. "Mr. Stark..."

"Call me Tony." The smile underneath his dark-tinted glasses was blindingly bright as she shook his nano-tech hand. That in itself left Peter at a loss for words. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but that would be a lie." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder a couple of times in Peter's direction. "You'd think he was guarding Fort Knox. Scratch that, it was easier to get in there than getting anything out of Peter when it comes to his new girlfriend."

"Oh god, please, stop talking!" Peter's face was hot, glowing like the surface of the sun. Even as he was hiding behind his hands he felt like he was illuminating the entire room.

"See, even now he's acting like this is all a big secret. Like I wouldn't notice how he rather spends his weekends in the city now than with dear old me, but I noticed and I do have his aunt's number. I mean, what does a guy have to do in order to be granted some time with their... well, intern. I only saved the universe, well, half of it. The lost half. You're welcome, by the way." He pointed at Ned and Flash as well. "You too, I guess."

Unaccustomed to Tony's rambling nature, MJ, Ned and Flash were sporting an identical look of opened-mouthed wonder, eyebrows slightly pulled together as they tried to follow Tony's chaotic monologue. 

"It's not like I don't still have about a million things to teach him. Lesson number one," he turned to Peter. "You never ever stop making out with a girl to point out a Star Wars reference. I didn't think anyone would have to be taught that!"

Peter's jaw popped open. "Oh my god, you were watching us this whole time?"

He waved a hand at Peter. "FRIDAY and I were quite amused, I'm not gonna lie, but-- hey, come on!"

One hand on Tony's upper arm, Peter pushed him toward the other side of the room. While the other three were rooted on their spots in stunned silence, Peter had no such reservation.

"What in holy hell do you think you're doing?"

"Would you calm down? You're the one who's sneaking off without thinking about the 5 gazillion cameras that are installed in this building."

"And how exactly do you still have access to all these cameras, huh? Did you bribe someone to spy on my field trip?"

"Yeah, talking about that field trip, you know you could have just told me your team wanted to see the arc and I could have—"

"Don't change the subject!"

Tony tilted his head a bit to the side. "I don't usually have to bribe anyone to access what's mine."

Even though his eyes were almost entirely hidden behind the dark-tinted glasses, Peter stared at him. But no matter how long he did, Tony did seem entirely serious. "You bought back the Tower."

It wasn't a question and Tony didn't bother to pretend like it was either.

Peter's shoulder's slumped in resignation. "When did this happen?"

Tony shrugged, suddenly suspiciously quiet. 

His nerves reaching an all-time high, Peter blew out a long breath. "Was this before or after my school's decathlon team happened to be invited to visit the arc?"

"Erm..." Tony pursed his lips, pretending to think. "I mean, I'm not sure about your little club's time table or anything like that so I wouldn't be entirely sure if—"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Peter ran both hands through his hair, at a complete loss. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Hey, it's not like you gave me much of a choice." Tony's finger was pointed at him, his eyebrows raised above the dark rims of his glasses, like Peter was in the know of what was going on.

"I have no idea what you're even talking about."

He huffed out an annoyed little breath. "Well, why is it that May got to meet your girlfriend and I'm still wondering if you made her up or not? And even that just because Pepper let something slip that May wasn't supposed to talk about when—"

"Okay, please..." Peter's arms and hands were stretched out, voice low like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. "...please tell me, that you didn't buy back the Tower just so you could meet MJ."

Tony crossed his arms in front of himself. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Underoos."

"Oh god..." His head was hurting. 

"I did not. Pepper would skin me alive."

Peter wasn't quite sure if he meant for spending that kind of money or for meddling with Peter's love life in general. "Then why didn't you just tell me you bought it?"

His arms twitched with another shrug. "I thought it would be a fun surprise."

Peter glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his friends and Flash, but they were well out of sight. "Listen, I'm sorry I haven't made it out to the cabin that often. It's not... it's not like I don't want to come out, it's just... it's the other side of town and—"

"And there's not enough room and you don't have a desk there to work at and the basement is too small and Morgan's up at what feels like dawn and has you grumpy in the mornings and the woods are creepy and you still don't like driving and what did I miss?"

Peter's head was bowed low. He had never said those things to Tony. Not out loud. He'd thought them for sure though.

"I know things haven't been ideal and with the Compound gone, well... this will be the better option."

Peter frowned, slowly looking back up at Tony. "The better option?"

"The lab in the Tower will be big enough that we can have like three desks each, easily. It's close enough for you to drop by whenever you want or go home in time so you, you know, don't miss a date or something. If you want to stay over there's no reason your room has to share a wall with Morgan's, the kitchen, or the living room, so no early wake-ups. No creepy trees outside your window and the subway station is just around the corner."

Peter's eyes were burning. Somehow... somehow this did sound a lot like he was the reason why Tony bought back that damn building after all.

With a swift motion, Tony took off his glasses, the expression on his face soft but sincere. "I miss you, kid. I'm not happy with how things have been going since they... well, since we've moved back to the cabin full time."

Peter moved his weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't like he hadn't missed Tony. He didn't even mind the cabin all that much, things had just been, well, different.

It wasn't just about where Tony lived now, that he was married with a kid. It wasn't that he had retired Iron Man, not really. 

Everything was just so different and for some reason, Tony of all people acted like nothing at all had changed between them. 

"Listen, Pete, I don't mean to—" He stopped himself, lowering his voice little further. "If I overstepped and you actually... well, if you actually just want your space and you want to cut back on the erm... internship, either way, that's perfectly fine and of course, we can figure out a new routine for the... neighborhood side project to—"

"I can't believe you bought the fucking Tower for me," Peter mumbled.

Tony tilted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was pulled back into a soft smirk. "I invented fucking time travel for you, kid."

Peter's throat was dry, but he tried to swallow the growing lump anyway. "You did that because of the purple grape. Because of what he did to like 50% of the universe."

There was a beat of silence between them. Tony held his glance, staring at him unblinkingly. "Did I?"

Peter's lips parted, but there was nothing to say, his mind simply blank. "Tony... I... I'm not sure—"

"Alright now..." Without another moment of hesitation, Tony stepped a little closer, his arms pulling Peter into a tight hug. "We won't do that now. Not here. Not today," he whispered. One of his hands, the human one, was on the back of Peter's head when he quickly pressed a kiss against his temple. "I missed you, buddy."

Peter's fingers were clinging to Tony's back, his eyes pressed shut as he tried not to think about what Tony had said. Tried not to analyze what it meant if he had really done all of it just for him.

It took a few more mumbled words from Tony until he let go. His head held low, Peter ran the sleeve of his shirt over his eyes.

"You want this?" Tony held out his glasses for him to take. 

With a wet snort, Peter waved his hand away. "Yeah, 'cause that's not super obvious at all..."

Tony shrugged, the smirk on his lips deepening. Just before he pushed his glasses back onto his face, Peter caught a glimpse of the glassy brown eyes, a little red probably not unlike his own. With an overly heavy sigh, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. „Come on, buddy... I think at least one of your friends is dying to see that technological marvel in my basement.”

Peter scrunched up his nose, not even trying to pull away from him. “Can you at least try not to be weird?”

“I won’t make any promises.” 

"You could make up for it and let Ned touch the arc." He bit his lip, hiding a smile. "He really really wants to..."

"Why do you want to break that thing I just bought for you?"

Peter let his head drop against Tony's shoulder. "It's okay, I'll help you fix it."

#

This is the first time I've written something for this fandom that is *not* whump, so let me know, what you think!

I'll try to fill a bunch of these prompts, because I love running from my WIPs. Don't hate me for it ;) <3

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Eleven: Time to Realize

Summary: New hope is sparked for Sebastian and Y/N after their date.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2360 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Night terrors, almost smut (is that a warning?).  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat. 

Series Masterlist

Image found via Google Image Search. 

When Milena woke from her nap, Sebastian informed her that she would be going to her grandparents’ house for the evening while Sebastian and Y/N went out for a little while. 

As she ate her snack of grapes and crackers, Milena frowned. “You’ll come get me later?”

Sebastian nodded. “I promise, we’ll come get you later. Unless you want to sleep at Bunica’s house?”

The little girl shook her head adamantly. “No, here! In my room!”

“In your room it is, then,” Y/N assured, kissing the top of Milena’s head. “We’ll try to hurry so that we get you before you go to sleep, but even if you fall asleep over there, you’ll wake up over here. Okay?”

Milena seemed to be appeased for the time being; she nodded and went back to her snack. Sebastian and Y/N exchanged a worried glance. Though they had an appointment the next week with the child psychologist, the terrors had seemed to be a thing of the past. 

“When you’re done with your snack, why don’t you go fill up your backpack with the things you want to take over there?” Sebastian suggested. 

She finished her snack quickly after that, then raced to her room to get her things together. 

“Do you want me to take her over there? Or go with you?” Y/N offered. 

Sebastian shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I’ll take her. I don’t mind — I’m going to see if Mom will take her earlier so we can get to dinner earlier and get back to pick her up. I don’t want to trigger another terror.”

She took his hand and squeezed. “We can pick another night, if you want?”

“No, I want us to do this, I don’t want to put it off.”

“Okay. I’m going to go make sure she’s not packing her entire room. Why don’t you call your mom and see when she’s okay with Milena coming over, call the restaurant to make sure we can get a table when we need.”

Sebastian grinned. “I will do all of that, yes.”

Y/N frowned. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“You sound like such a … wife and mom. In a good way, Y/N/N.”

She scowled at him for a moment, but a shy smile soon broke through. She swatted at him for his teasing, but he caught her arm and reached to tickle her side. Y/N shrieked and scrambled to get away, but he held tight and pulled her against his chest. His arms went around her shoulders and hers instinctively wrapped around his middle. Their laughter died down as they both realized this embrace was no friendly, playful hug; there was far more between them than friends and convenient spouses. 

Y/N cleared her throat and pulled away from him. “I’m going to check on her, you make those calls.”

Sebastian nodded. He watched her go and wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell her how much he cared for her, without worrying about risking their friendship. 

As Y/N padded toward Milena’s room, goosebumps rose over her skin. She had been so warm in Sebastian’s arms. He had been clear, though, that he didn’t want to lose the friendship between them, and she wouldn't allow her own feelings to overshadow what he needed just then.

The drop-off went better than they expected, so Y/N and Sebastian felt much lighter as they headed to dinner. Thanks to a reservation, their table was ready when they arrived. 

“You look amazing,” Sebastian smiled over the table at her. “New dress?”

Y/N nodded, blushing. “Sort of. Had it for a while, haven’t had the chance to wear it yet. This seemed like as good an occasion as any. Thank you, for suggesting we do this.”

“Of course. I love having Milena around, but a little one-on-one time is always appreciated. What looks good on the menu?”

They mulled over their options for a few minutes before they both decided. The waiter brought back their requested bottle of wine, took their food order, then left the table. Sebastian poured wine for both of them, then held his glass up in the form of a toast. 

“To us,” he smiled, “and making this crazy life work for us.”

“To us,” she returned, clinking her glass gently against his before sipping at her wine. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Sebastian nodded his agreement. “I noticed the boxes from Los Angeles seem to be slowing down.”

“Yes, thank goodness. I didn’t realize how much stuff I had! My assistant got rid of a lot for me, if you can believe that.” She chuckled and blushed a little. “Her new task is going through my mail and sending what didn’t get forwarded that may be important. That should be about it. The landlord is doing the walk through early next week, and that’ll be that.”

“You’re not keeping your place there?”

She shrugged, nervously fiddling with the linen tablecloth. “My lease was up there in a couple of months and I figure if-slash-when I move back, I’ll maybe look at buying a house or getting into a different building.”

“If?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, you know, even after all of this, I want to stay close for Milena. And it’s not like you and I are only going to be friends until this is over. We’re always going to be friends, Seb. You said yourself, you don’t want to lose us, and I don’t either.”

They were both quiet after that. Y/N realized how desperately she wanted him to make some sort of remark that yes, they would always be friends, but that there was potential for more — not even potential for more, but just plain more. That this wasn’t going to end. That she didn’t need her place in Los Angeles because her home was here, with Sebastian and Milena. 

“Did I lose you?”

She snapped back to the present, chuckling an apology. “Lost in thought, I suppose. Less talk about me, more about you. How are you doing with all of this? It’s been a lot of change in a short time.”

Sebastian sipped his wine. “I’m getting through. It seems surreal a lot of the time. Milena asked when Irina was coming to get her, you know, and I realized that I’ve subconsciously been waiting for that, too. I have so much good right in front of me — Mom, Anthony, you, Milena, the new house. Life is moving on, but it’s so … so … absurd, honestly, that it’s moving on without Irina.”

“That’s understandable. You both were a big part of each other’s lives. For whatever it’s worth, I think she would be really proud of the way you’re handling this — of everything you’ve already done for Milena.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you here,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. 

She held tight, but shrugged. “You would have figured it out, you know. I may have helped, but you would do anything for that little girl and for your sister. A person would be a fool not to see that.”

“I just …” Sebastian breathed in deep and let it out, his hand still holding tight to hers. “I don’t know really what I’m trying to say, maybe. You’ve always been my friend, someone I could count on without a doubt. But the way you’ve stepped up here — I won’t keep repeating thanks I’ve already offered. You go and talk about staying here with us though, and it gives me new gratitude. New hope, too.”

New hope. Y/N looked into his eyes, releasing his hand so the waiter could set their plates in front of them, and saw that the hope Sebastian was referring to was quite possibly the same hope she was holding onto that the love she felt for him may one day be mutual. 

As promised, Sebastian and Y/N picked Milena up from her grandparents’ house before she was asleep. Georgeta smiled and opened the door for the couple, welcoming them into the house. 

“She’s been yawning for an hour,” the grandmother sighed, “but she refused to lay down, even to watch cartoons or something. She just kept saying, ‘Uncle Seb will come, then I can sleep.’”

Sebastian sighed. The counseling appointment couldn’t come soon enough. In the meantime, he would do the only thing he could do: love that little girl more than ever, make sure she felt safe, and tell her as often as possible that as much as he could help it, he would never abandon her. 

“Are you so tired?” Y/N cooed, carrying Milena into the house. 

Milena nodded against her shoulder. “Do I have to take a bath?”

“We can do that in the morning,” Sebastian offered. “How about you and Y/N go pick out some jammies and I’ll be in soon with your water cup, okay?”

Another nod. Sebastian headed to the kitchen to fill a sippy cup with water — something Irina had actually started, to avoid Milena getting out of bed at all hours — then headed to join them in Milena’s room. 

She was already changed into one of her favorite nightgowns, and Y/N was brushing her hair before fixing it into a short, loose braid. Sebastian carried Milena to the bathroom, insisting that she at least brush her teeth before bed. The little girl whimpered but did as she was told. 

Once she was finally tucked in, Sebastian reminded her that her cup was on the nightstand, kissed her forehead, hugged her tight, and told her to sleep good. 

“Y/N, will you read me a story?”

Y/N nodded. “Okay, but I get to pick out which one.���

She traded a glance with Sebastian, who winked at her before leaving to his own bedroom to change out of his dinner clothes. Maybe he would see if Y/N was up for a movie and some popcorn — it was relatively early, after all. 

Only a few minutes later, she joined him in the bedroom, kicking off her shoes at the door. 

“We didn’t make it halfway through the story and she was out,” Y/N smiled, “doing that soft little snore she does. Too cute.”

Sebastian grinned and sat at the food of their bed. “Yeah, I know that sound. Most perfect snore I’ve ever heard.”

“Agreed,” she smiled softly, leaning against the doorway. 

He met her eyes; the look there wasn’t evoked from Milena’s snoring, he was certain. He drew his bottom lip under his tongue and tilted his head. Y/N’s smile faded, but her eyes stayed bright; God, he had always loved that about her. Obviously, since he had dubbed her nickname from the trait. 

In unison and still without speaking, she pushed away from the doorframe and he stood from the bed. They met in the middle, standing without touching for only a few seconds before Sebastian pulled her arms around him, then gently pushed his fingers into her hair, using the movement to tilt her head up towards him so that he could press his lips to hers, soft but urgent. 

She pressed into him, her fingers grasping the cotton t-shirt he had just put on. Sebastian kept his hands in her hair, tugging only slightly at the root. A sharp gasp pulled her mouth away from his, and Sebastian could only smile against her lips. 

“So maybe I’m not the only one who’s hopeful,” he commented. His voice was low and gravelly; his desire to have her was taking over his entire body. 

Y/N shook her head. “Definitely not the only one.”

His smile returned, and so did hers. With a new rush of hope and desire, Sebastian reached just far enough under the hem of her dress to grip the back of her thighs. He picked her up off the floor, still kissing her, and gently set her on the bed. 

She scooted back to the pillows, waiting for him to discard his shirt before he knelt onto the mattress. He took in the sight of her, waiting for him to make the next move. He knew the nervous chewing of her bottom lip, the excited half-grin that produced a dimple at the top of her cheek. That look of love and desire wasn’t new, but it wasn’t something he had ever imagined would be directed at him. Wasn’t something he had ever wished was directed at him, honestly, until their wedding night. 

“You okay?” Sebastian whispered, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap. 

She nodded, kissing him softly. “Nervous. But good nervous.”

“Just tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“I trust you,” she assured, softly kissing his bottom lip. 

Sebastian pressed his lips firmly to hers. She reacted in kind, nipping at his bottom lip before returning to the kiss. Y/N pushed herself further into his lap so their bodies were flush against each other; the resulting friction tightened his pants and drew a soft moan from her lips. He broke the kiss to put his hands on her thighs and slowly begin pushing the skirt of her dress further up. 

“May I?” he chuckled. 

She grinned and nodded, claiming his lips again. Sebastian’s hands rested at her hips, his fingers splaying over the back of her lace panties. 

A scream broke through the otherwise quiet house. They pushed away from each other in an instant and scrambled off the bed. Sebastian reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head. 

“I’ll get her, you can change if you want,” Sebastian offered, walking a few steps backwards before she could catch up with him. 

Y/N sighed and turned back to the bedroom, already working the dress over her head. Milena’s cries grew louder, even after Y/N could heard Sebastian trying to soothe his niece. With a million and one thoughts in her head, she discarded her dress and her undergarments, quickly exchanging them for a cotton nightgown and fresh underwear. Knowing how the night terrors usually went, she decided to wash her face and brush her teeth, then padded through the house to join Sebastian and Milena. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​ @connie326​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @itsallyscorner​ @mizzzpink​ @auspiciousharriet​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @learisa​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @katherinereid​ @lokilokilokilokilokiloki​ @auriandthepussicats​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @itsmycorneroftheinternet​

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off

pairing: lead singer!peter maximoff/bassist!fem!reader

summary: nobody likes the opening band-- except, of course, the lead singer’s secret girlfriend, who just happens to be the headliner.

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving) they fuck on an amp and that stresses me out

notes: you literally cannot blame me for using this song its just so HORNY. also this is almost 1.8k words im Proud. This is a songfic but also at the same time not really (based off of lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off by Panic! At The Disco) 

I dedicate this fic to my dear friend @kitwalkers who’s honestly an icon and you should go check them out

~~~~~~~~~~~

            You could see it in his eyes and the mischievous grin on his face. He sauntered over to the stage, his hips swinging just a bit more than usual. He said something to the drummer before approaching the microphone. His hand slides down the mic stand, his finger caressing the cold metal as he adjusted the high. The opening performance. This was only the opening performance. All you had to do was get through his set and then you could do your own-- you just had to make it through a couple songs. Yet somehow, Peter Maximoff managed to drag out his set as much as possible, his intentions obvious. He was trying to get you worked up before the performance-- Peter had a habit of teasing you before big events. 

            Eventually, the last song rolls around and the end is in sight. His eyes met yours, the dark pupils obviously blown out more than usual. He was either high or horny-- probably both. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, but it lingered for a second, flicking a corner of his mouth before he gave the signal to his bandmates. The bassist had barely played a note but you already recognized the song-- Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off. Your stomach dropped and Peter smirked, satisfaction written all over his face as his queue approached. 

            “Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off your dress?” His voice is low and sultry, his eyes still locked with yours. His hands move along the mic stand slowly, his actions and the fiery look in his eyes immediately traveling to your core. You press your thighs together and Peter grins. “Well then think of what you did, and how I hope to god he was worth it. When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin.” Your bandmate leans over to whisper in your ear.

            “He’s, uh, quite the showman,” She chuckles. Her eyes trail upland down Peter’s body and you can’t help but clench your jaw. Sure, no one knew about you and Peter, but that didn’t stop you from getting defensive. 

            “I heard he’s got a girl-- somethin’ secretive.” You add slyly, your eyes not leaving Peter’s. 

            “Lucky gal,” Your bandmate quips. You nod absentmindedly. Peter seems dissatisfied with the loss of your attention, his movements becoming more and more suggestive by the second.

            “Girl I was it, look past the sweat. A better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger's seat-- no, no, no, you know it will always just be me,” He nodded slowly, leaning forward with the mic stand, the long metal pole tipping between his legs. “Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster! Faster!.” Peter tore his eyes away from yours as the bass and guitar blares, his head shaking to dishevel his hair. Peter takes the mic off the stand and begins to move around the stage with more energy than usual, his voice melodic and breathy and so incredibly hot, it makes your bones vibrate. 

            With every strum of the guitar and crash of the symbols, Peter was becoming more and more frustrated. He was hot and sweaty and so horny he felt like he was about to shout-- he was the opener, he was only the opener. He tugged off his jacket, tossing it to the corner of the stage before he returned to singing. He had to get through the song-- just the one song then he could run backstage and jack off in some closet and he’d be fine. You were not helping Peter’s situation; your unyielding gaze and slow gestures making Peter’s jeans feel much tighter than before. Yes, Peter understood he started it-- he chose this song because he knew it would get you going, but Peter did not realize the consequences. He didn’t show it, though. He kept up his smug facade, shooting a wink your way as he began the final chorus. 

            Peter grunted in confusion as you walked away before the end of the song, his eyes following you around the corner. He glanced back at his bandmates as the song closed, allowing them to adjust their instruments and discuss the performance as he sped off. You were standing outside of the venue, the cool winter air soothing your hot skin-- Peter’s appearance startled you. 

            “Why’d you run off, doll? Did ya not like the song?” Peter teased as he pressed his palms against the brick wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. You weren’t necessarily complaining, though; it was nice to have Peter this close. Although you had a feeling he’d get a lot closer in the near future. 

            “Eh, it was okay,” You quipped, a smirk stuck on your face as Peter began inching closer.  “I hope you’re aware that I blow your bass player out of the water; the poor kid had no control over his fingers.”

“Oh yeah?” The silver-haired man leaned close, his lips brushing your ear and his hot breath on your skin as he spoke softly. “Well unlike him, I actually know how to work my fingers.” He drags his pointer finger along your jaw causing a shiver to run down your spine.

            “Prove it.” You purr. Peter hastily pulls you inside the venue and into the first empty room he could find; he was pleased to see that you ended up in the equipment storage closet. He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping your waist as he slammed his lips on yours. You gasp, and Peter takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against your thigh, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. Frantically, he manages to lay you on top of one of the industrial sized amps in the corner. Sure, if they were to break the both of you would probably owe thousands of dollars, but neither of you cared at the moment. 

            “You’re on in 20 minutes,” Peter says as he nibbles on your earlobe. “I’m sure we’ll make good use of our time until then.” He winked before making his way down your body, stopping at your hips. His hands make quick work of your jeans, tugging the tight fabric off along with your underwear. Peter glances up at you with faux innocence in his eyes before he pulls your legs into his shoulders, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. After what feels like an eternity, he finally jerks forward and buries his head between your thighs and drags his tongue over your clit. You stifle a moan as Peter moves quickly, his lips encapsulating your clit as he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. Peter’s fingers are long and calloused and he curls them in just the right way. Immediately, your fingers are tangled in his hair as you attempt to pull him closer to you. You pull just a bit too hard and a low groan emits from Peter’s lips; Peter can feel you tighten around his fingers every time he moans into you. Your hips jerk forward as Peter speeds up, adding another finger as he does so.  You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood as you spasm around his fingers, a breathy whimper escaping your lips. Peter laps up the last of your juices before crawling on top of you.

            “I’m still not over how good you are at that,” You pant. Peter slams his lips on yours, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth-- you can taste yourself on his lips, but you don’t really mind. “Time?”

            “We got 10 minutes,” You smirk.

            “Perfect.” You shimmy out from below Peter, falling to your knees in front of him. He melts like putty in your hands as you pull off his jeans; Peter’s cock was throbbing and stiff by the time you took it in your hand. He groans, his hips snapping forward in an attempt to get more friction. You press kisses to his lower abdomen, intentionally neglecting his rock-hard dick while doing so. You kiss your way back up his body, chuckling as Peter tries to grind into your thigh.

            “C-C’mon, we’re gonna run out of time.” Peter whines. He quickly repositions himself so he’s on top of you, his hands holding himself up. “You ready, babe?” You nod, and Peter grins.

Peter’s hips snap forward, pushing his cock into your throbbing cunt. He stretches you deliciously, a pleasurable burning sensation spreading between your hips as Peter begins to move. 

            “Fuck-- you’re tight,” Peter huffs, his thrusts becoming quicker and more rhythmic as the time passed. Your nails dig into Peter’s back as he thrusts harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the small room along with your moans and gasps. Peter pulls your leg onto his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper than before.

            “Oh-- fuck, Peter, you feel so good--” That seems to spur Peter on, his head dipping down to meet your lips. He moans into your mouth, your teeth clashing together as your lips move sloppily. The man above you is panting, his hot breath hitting your face as he pounds into you. He’s sweaty, his silver hair sticking to his forehead. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Peter brushes the spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl, a strained moan leaving your lips. Peter’s thrusts become uneven and you can tell he’s close-- you are, too. 

            “You gonna come, baby?” You ask, and Peter can only nod. Your hand grapes the back of his neck, tugging him down so you can whisper in his ear. “Come for me, sugar,” He does exactly that, his hips rapidly snapping into yours as he emptied himself inside of you. Peter’s orgasm triggered your own, your cunt tightening around him as you threw your head back. 

            You’re both sweaty and disheveled by the time you both came down from your climaxes, both you and Peter decorated by dark red hickies. You chuckle quickly at Peter’s blissed-out smile, his lips pressing small kisses along your jaw. He whines as you get off the amp and begin pulling on your clothes.

            “Stay with me,” He pleads. You press a kiss to his forehead before you button up your jeans.

            “I wish I could, Maximoff, but I’m on in 5.” You turn to leave, but not before speaking up one more time. “For the record, Maximoff, you were right. You are pretty good with your fingers.”

[baejax-the-great]

5 Favorites

Thank you for the tags @pedlimwen and @noire-pandora!

I’ll tag forward @luzial @midnightprelude @juliafied @swaps55 @asaara-writes

If there are rules to this, I’m ignoring them in favor of posting 5 favorite sections from relatively recently posted writing. If you are thinking, “I haven’t written 5 different works!” 1. Congratulations on your commendable focus to your WIPs, please lend me some of it and 2. I’m pretty sure you can pick 5 sections from the same work.

1. From Serenity (Fenris x Hawke):

“I heard the funniest joke today,” she announced, feet barely over his threshold. “I was in the Lowtown markets, by that stall that sells those Antivan pancakes. As an aside, are the Antivans known for pancakes? It hardly seems like a cultural tradition. Fish stew, those little grape leaf things, olives—those are Antivan. Do you think the owner of that stall never learned to cook anything else back home and just decided to make the most of it when he got here? Ferdo, I think his name is. Have you ever bought one of his pancakes?”

Hawke’s words too quickly became background noise to his work, but when he finally parsed the question, Varric grunted an affirmative. Hot food was hot food, and Varric liked the weird, spicy sauce Ferdo put on it. Maybe she was right, though, and it was only there to mask the incompetence. Fuck if he knew. It never made him sick and it was exactly what it claimed to be. Good enough.

She took a date from his bowl, plucking out the seed before popping it into her mouth. “Maybe I should try one, then,” she mused, “May I have some?”

She didn’t wait for his next grunt, uncorking the bottle that was holding down his earnings reports and pouring herself a glass of wine. Varric flipped through his letters, he was certain he’d just had the one from the beet farm talking about the season’s yields. By the sound of it, Hawke had flopped into the chair across from him.

“So I was by that stall, and Gordon was there, you know, that idiot sailor who got himself punched silly last week when he tried to cheat Bran’s crew with some phony whisky. Still has some teeth left after that, and I guess he’s dead set on losing all of them.”

Varric found the letter and copied the numbers while Hawke told him about Gordon’s myriad problems. As long as Varric wasn’t expected to help her fix any of them, that was all fine. He was full up on friends with poor decision-making skills and poorer coin purses. The last pirate he befriended disappointed him bitterly, and he wasn’t ready to forgive them as a lot. He signed his last document with a flourish and realized Hawke had been silent for at least thirty seconds. He tried to remember what she’d last said to him. “Wait, what? Was any of that a joke?”

2. From The Depth of Fear (Bethany x Alistair):

“Why?” she sneered, stabbing at her dinner, “It’s not your fault Loghain threw the battle at Ostagar and left my home to rot. Or that two Wardens weren’t enough to save the entire South.”

Alistair flinched, though he couldn’t say why. It really hadn’t been their fault, as far as he could see. A bit late on the beacon, sure, but that didn’t matter when the rest of the army had already fled the field. And he had killed Loghain for that, among other things, so justice was served, he supposed. Not that justice brought anyone back who was lost. Somehow, watching her attack her meal with the sort of gusto he’d seen her apply to melting an ogre, he still felt a pang of guilt. “We could have been faster at finding the Archdemon I guess.”

She held a forkful of potatoes aloft while parsing his words, her expression softening into recognition.  “Maker, you’re him? That Alistair. The other Warden. With the Hero.”

Alistair nodded, poking at his beans. “That’s my preferred title, you know. That Alistair, the Other Warden. Snappy. Gets the point across.”

3. From First Contact (Garrus x Shepard):

“Shepard, I’ve always wanted to ask…”

She took a deep breath and smiled. It was only a matter of time. “You can touch it.”

“Oh, uh…”

“My hair, right? Aliens always want to touch human hair.” Tali had asked weeks ago. Liara had asked back on the SR-1. Wrex had simply gone for it one day with a terrified crewmate who asked to be transferred later. But Garrus had shown remarkable self-control that led to Shepard wondering if he had secretly asked Kaidan back in the day. Kaidan’s hair might have been better, honestly. He had more of it than Shepard did. Still, the thought almost stung.  

“Yeah, in C-SEC we actually had to make a public service campaign to stop people from touching humans. The Drell got it in their heads that touching human hair was good luck. We had posters around reminding them it was technically assault.”

Shepard laughed, trying to imagine what that poster must have looked like. Various aliens grabbing at terrified and offended humans, probably. Touching humans: Not even once. “That is what you were going to ask, though, right?”

His mandibles flexed out and back in. “Well… yeah…”

“You can cop a feel, Vakarian.” She raised an eyebrow. “But only if I can touch yours.”

4. All of TEOS, but sure I’ll pick these lines today:

Zevran put a hand on his back.

“What a terrible burden to realize you are attracted to your wife.”

Alistair shot him a dark look. It was a burden. And a mistake. It was all a lot easier when he thought she’d be some scary warmongering shrew.

“You’re allowed to love her, Alistair. There aren’t any rules against it.”

“I wouldn’t even know how,” he muttered, pushing himself away from the window.

5. And I guess this from Red (Fenris x Hawke):

It was easy to convince himself to keep drinking against the red glow of his fingers. He never thought he could feel a deeper loathing for his own skin, a deeper sense of betrayal or fear or disgust. He’d long come to find a gentle neutrality toward the markings. They made him a weapon, but he was master to himself. They’d sent him on a path, and somewhere along the way he had controlled the destination. And it had been good, so good. To once again lose everything—his past and now his future— to pretty marks etched artistically into his flesh… he could almost hear Danarius laughing.

So he turned his gaze to Hawke. An hour ago he had steeled himself to never see her again. If he’d gotten on his horse faster, urged her into a canter, he would have done it. Left her behind and faced his fate. But she—she always saw a path where he didn’t. She offered him a future, and he wanted it so badly.  Lasts be damned, he kissed her. Hard. Red hand on the bottle and white hand in her hair. He should have known that she’d find hope in this, their most hopeless situation yet. She tasted of hope; she exhaled it in every breath. He kissed her like it was the first time and they had all the time in the world to get it right. And then he kissed her again because he could, right now he still could, and right now was everything.

Hawke pulled away first, and he dropped his head against her shoulder.

“Next time we have a problem, we sort it out together,” she said, “I don’t join the Inquisition, and you don’t ride off to die alone when you get a spot of rash.”  

“I promise,” he drawled into her neck.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Pineapple

Pairing: Chris Motionless x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (Choking, spanking, degrading, pain kink, squirting, oral, unprotected... I think that’s it?) 

Request: “ hi i LOVED "For Good Measure" and i was wondering if i could request a chris motionless x reader smut? where chris is the readers fianceé and the readers also best friends with Shae (Justin's fianceé) and the reader is talking to Shae about wanting to explore kinks and BDSM type stuff and chris ends up finding out and making her thoughts come to life. (please include spanking, choking, degradation, overstim and a pain kink if you can and only write what ur comfortable with) thank you!!!” -  gothcerulli

A/N: This one is dirty. That’s all I can say. 

______________________________________

You sat in Justin and Shae’s bedroom with Shae, the two of you messing around with makeup and trying to come up with new looks to wear to Motionless in White’s upcoming concerts that you two were trying to make it to. The two of you had bonded over your mutual feelings about being associated with the band, that you were your own people with your own lives and not some extension of Motionless in White that the fans could exploit. It had been comforting to know that Shae felt the same way you did about all of that and, especially after that was established, you guys had become best friends almost instantly. 

Chris and Justin needed to go over some last minute details before the tour started so you and Shae figured it was the perfect opportunity for some girl time. “So, excited for the wedding?” You asked her excitedly, patting foundation all over your face. 

She shook her legs excitedly and leaned back a little, “I can’t wait to marry Justin. I mean, he’s just so fucking perfect and hot and ugh.” 

“You don’t love him at all.” You teased sarcastically. 

Shae opened various eyeshadow palettes, trying to find the shade she wanted, “What about you and Chris, huh? Your wedding is coming up too!” 

You smiled, “Yeah, I’m super excited. I love him so much.” You set down the beauty blender. 

“Uh-oh, I feel like there’s a but.” Shae gave you a look, sensing the hesitation in your voice that you hadn’t meant to put there but now that it was, it was unmistakable. 

You shrugged, brushing setting powder over the foundation, “I mean… I love him. I totally do. And the sex is great but…” 

“But it’s not?” She guessed, blending a dark red-pink into her crease. 

You sighed, “I just… there’s stuff that I want to try and I get worried that if I bring it up he’ll get weirded out.” 

Shae snorted, “He’s a little goth boy with two songs about necrophilia. While I’m sure he doesn’t actually want to fuck an actual dead girl, he’d probably be at least understanding of almost anything you say. What do you want to try?” 

You could feel your face burning red but also knew you could trust her, “Well, um, I guess I’ve been curious about the BDSM side of things. Not the super extreme stuff but just choking and spanking, things like that.” 

“Dude, those are pretty common things to be into! I don’t think you have much to worry about.” She reassured, “Justin and I do all that sometimes.” 

You looked up at your best friend, wondering how she just so casually admitted that, “How did you guys start?” 

“Honestly, funny story, we had been dating for a few months and then one night Justin got really into it and smacked my ass really hard for the first time and both of us we were in shock that he did it. He stopped completely and it got really quiet before he started apologizing profusely. I kinda liked it though and asked him to do it again and things just kinda grew from there. You guys can always start small.” 

You took your turn looking through Shae’s eyeshadow collection, “I wish he would zone out and spank me. Ugh. Also, like, I want him to call me names and stuff but I don’t even know how to ask for that.” 

Shae looked at you like you were crazy, “You just ask him. It’s not that hard.” 

“Oh yeah. ‘Hey babe, can you call me your little slut, please?’ I don’t think so.” You began blending colors along your lid. 

Shae tapped her brushed on the table, “I’ve got an idea. You just gotta find a porno with all the stuff you like in it. Leave it open where he’ll find it. He’ll watch it, figure out that that’s what you’re into, and fuck you into oblivion.” 

“Oh my gosh, no!” You laughed, throwing a beauty blender at her from the table. 

About two hours later, you and Shae were snacking on some grapes in the kitchen when Chris walked in, “Hey, babe, we’re all finished. Did you want to head out?” 

Knowing that you only had a few days left with your fiance before he left for a few months, you hopped off the counter, “Yeah, we can head home. We’ll see you guys later!” 

The ride back had been seemingly normal, a comfortable silence having settled over the car, the vaguely static radio murmuring in the background. “So, choking, huh?” He said it so casually that you choked on air. “I meant kinky choking, not really choking. Damn, Y/N!” He laughed as you regained your composure. 

“How did you-” You began, panicking slightly. 

“Justin and I actually finished two hours before we left and I went to ask if you were ready to leave then but overheard your conversation and it was just too good to stop listening.” He took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance over at you, laughing at the way your cheeks had turned red. 

You waved your hand panickedly, “You weren’t supposed to hear that. We can just pretend I never said it.” You couldn’t even make eye contact with him. This was humiliating. 

“Nobody said I didn’t want to try it either.” He slid in coolly. 

Slowly, you drew your eyes from the window to look at him. He looked at you smugly before returning his eyes to the road. 

The rest of the drive was silent again, this time a tense air in the car. You weren’t sure what was going on but it was beginning to make you feel uncomfortable and exposed, despite his (almost) concurrence with your sentiment. 

The car pulled up to the driveway and you both walked up to the house, unlocking the door and throwing the keys on the table once you made your way in. Before you knew it, you felt Chris pull you in close to his body, your back pressing into his chest, his arms snaking around your front. His hand slid up your front, roughly driving your breasts and planted itself on your throat, squeezing lightly. “Bedroom now, no clothes. Wait for me.” 

Before you could respond, he swatted you harshly on the ass and disappeared to the garage. Oh my gosh, this was happening. 

You did as he said, quickly pattering your way to the bedroom, stripping as you ran. When Chris returned, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting obediently. “Lie back, hands above your head.” A shiver went through your spine at his dominance as you lied on your back. He crawled over your body, the rope in his hand now visible as he brought it up to tie your wrists together to the headboard. 

“Not too tight?” He checked, biting your ear. When you shook your head, he leaned back, “Good.” 

Chris stood above you, removing his shirt and revealing his patterned chest that you loved to trace so much. “Look at you. Such a little whore all tied up for me. Not even a fight. You just let me do whatever I want.” Placing a knee between your legs, he leaned back over and grabbed you harshly by the face, “And that’s not gonna stop, now is it?” 

Your eyes were wide as you shook your head, “No sir.”

He stood, “Good. Now what’s your safe word?” He asked, his tone still low and sultry. 

You thought for a moment, “Pineapple.” You cringed when the words left your lips. Pineapple? Whatever, it was already out there. 

Chris didn’t even flinch at the ridiculous word you chose but rather crawled his way up your body and began devouring your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth roughly. He straddled you and ran his hands up and down your torso, his calloused fingertips rough against your soft skin. 

His lips left yours and his teeth raked along your neck, biting every so often. “Fuck, Chris.” You breathed out, getting lost in his touch. 

He leaned back onto his knees, your legs trapped beneath his weight. Unexpectedly, his hand came down to strike your breast, the flesh wavering from the blow, “Shit!” You hissed. 

Again, another smack came upon the other breast before he reached down with both hands and cupped your breasts in palms, rubbing them, “You look so fucking hot like this. Tied up, completely at my mercy, tits all red and hard for me.” He whispered in your ear, “You make me so fucking hard.” 

Chris crawled his way back down your body and threw one of your legs over his bare shoulder, “My, my, my, you’re dripping, sweetheart. Fucking whore, getting turned on by your tits getting smacked around like that.” He hooked his arm around your leg and used it to gain better access to your core. He used that thumb to start teasing your clit, leaning in licking a long stripe up your slit. 

“Oh my gosh…” It had been a few weeks since he’d gone down on you anyways but this was a whole new experience. “Please, let me touch you.” 

Chris swatted your ass from the side, holding your body in place to keep it from jolting away from him as he attached his lips to your clit sucking harshly, nibbling every now and again. Slowly, he entered a single finger into your entrance and moved it just barely, teasing you as he assaulted your clit. 

“Please, I need more.” You begged, writhing against your bindings and trying to grind harder into his fingers. 

He bit down on your clit hard enough to hurt and you screamed out, pleasure and pain flooding down your legs, “Someone sure sounds ungrateful.” 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Thank you, sir.” The title slipped out before you could catch it but you didn’t care. 

Sir. The word struck Chris right in the groin, his pants ridiculously tight. He ground down into the bed as he tortured you, suddenly adding another finger and ramming them into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, wrists raw from pulling on the rope. 

Chris pulled away suddenly, smacking your pussy hard, “No, you’re not.” 

“Agh!” You yelped, flinching away from the strike. 

“Up on your knees.” He demanded, flipping his long hair back out of his face. 

You looked around, “How?” 

“Figure it out.” Chris watched as you wiggled around, flipping onto your belly, and crawling up the bed on your hands and knees, your arms now in front of your chest. He removed his black skinny jeans and boxers as you struggled, pumping himself to the sight of your bare ass in the air. 

You shimmied your way all the way up to your knees before Chris pushed you down by your back. You caught yourself on the headboard, your hands gripping the wood tightly while Chris repositioned your hips. Grabbing his shaft, he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds that were still red from his attack earlier, “Think you deserve my cock, slut?” 

“Please, sir, I love your cock. I’ll be a good girl.” You were almost crying, feeling your wetness dripping down your thighs. 

He shrugged, “I guess you have been.” He entered you slowly, feeling your walls stretch around him as he did. “You feel so fucking good around my cock.” 

Chris grabbed your hips roughly and pulled them back to meet his hips as he slammed into you. “Fuck, Chris!” Your head fell forward, knuckles turning white as your grip tightened. 

His hand struck your ass, a red mark forming immediately, and then he reached his other hand around your front and gripped your throat, using it as leverage to pull you back against his chest. His fingers tightened around your throat as he thrust hard into you, “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Sir. I’m sorry. I meant sir.” Your legs began to shake as he reached down and rubbed fast circles on your clit. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” 

“You wanna cum?” He asked, his cock twitching inside you. 

Your nodded desperately, “Yes, please sir! I’ll do anything!” 

Your makeup was running down your cheeks and you were making the dirtiest little noises and faces. How could Chris deny a face like that? “After me.” 

Even though he knew you were on the edge, he continued to rub your clit, falling over the edge as he felt your walls clench around him in a desperate attempt to keep from cumming. He kept going hard and fast, his seed filling you and dripping out every time he pulled out. 

You finally came around him, feeling wave after wave of pleasure fall over you. Without a word, Chris pulled out and flipped you over, ruining your orgasm for just a moment until his fingers re-entered you. He thrust them upward into your g-spot as fast as he could. The assault on the most sensitive spot in your body quickly became too much and you tried to writhe away from him, “Agh! Okay okay!” You cried, trying to wiggle his hands out of you. 

Chris shook his head, “You said you wanted to cum. Keep cumming.” 

His fingers moved faster and his other hand came to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the mixture of pleasure and pain. His thumb came down to rub your clit hard and viciously and you screamed, the pleasure transitioning to pain, “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” 

“We’re not stopping till you cum again.” Your body gave up out of nowhere, something snapping that you didn’t even feel growing. 

Your body felt icy as you shook spastically, pulling away from him by the ropes as you squirted all over his body. Your breathing was shaky as you came down from your intense high. 

“Pineapple?” Chris asked, breaking his character, worried that maybe he went too far and hurt you. 

You shook your head, “No. No, that was fucking fantastic. I love you so much.” 

[random-mha-thoughts]

Creep (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Genre: Slight spice? Slice of life? Some cringe? (College!AU)

Summary: Your roommate forces you to a dorm hangout with her boyfriend where you get hit on by a creep, only to have Bakugou come along and help you with the situation.

Word count: 1,996

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Honestly I wasn’t expecting much from this idea I had and I thought it would be stupid and short, but it turned into something else that I hope you guys like?  Let me know your thoughts on this!

At least the party isn't terribly noisy, it's more like a casual hangout.  Everyone there is split into smaller groups, some playing Mario Kart on the TV while others huddle in the corner where they moved the table to play Jenga.  Another fold-up table in the far corner of the common room is crammed with snacks and soft drinks.  I don't really recognize any of the people here.  A few faces are from Ochaco's group of friends, maybe I recognize a handful from my classes, the rest are all strangers.

My dear roommate wanted me to come out and join her and her boyfriend's group of friends, but I'd rather be in our room by myself drowning in my sorrows and binge-watching shows on my laptop.

Ochaco immediately lights up and flies over to the familiar mess of green hair hanging out near the Jenga table.  "Deku!"

The freckled-face boy turns around at the sound of his name and beams as his girlfriend throws herself onto him.  "Hey, honey," he pecks her forehead sweetly before smiling politely at me.  "Glad you made it, (Y/n)!"

I return the favor with a tight-lipped smile.  "Yeah, Ochaco was pretty persuasive."

Midoriya motions to the tall blond boy with a fluffy tail next to him.  "This is my friend, Ojiro, it's his room."

The boy hums and rubs the back of his neck.  "It's not exactly my party though.  Sero and Kaminari wanted a bigger place to invite all their friends, and I happened to live in a suite.  My suitemates are out studying for the night."

Poor guy got swindled by his friends like I did.  "Hopefully, no one breaks anything while we're here," I offer some assurance to the visibly uncomfortable blond.

"We'll stay back to help you clean up if you want!" Midoriya offers enthusiastically.  "Todoroki won't mind if I come back to our room late."

We?  I touch Ochaco's shoulder, "I'm gonna get a drink."  There's no way I'm getting involved in any of that.  I have a test coming up this week and I need enough time to stress about how anxious and stressed I am over studying.

I pour myself a soda and start snacking on some chips out of the bowls.

"You idiot!  How dare you get me like that!"

Why do I know that voice?  Turning slowly around, my gaze lands on one of the figures on the couch in front of the TV.  Prickly, ash blond hair peeks out from behind a black hood, the boy's sharp features and scarlet eyes contorted into a death glare as he stares at the screen.  His jaw is tight as he grounds his teeth together in concentration and his leg bounces.

I swear I know who he is, but it's not coming to me.

The ending whistle blows from the TV as the Toad in the top right corner crosses the finish line.  "That's the game Bakugou," the red-head with too much gel in his hair leans back and rests the controller on his knee.  "All's fair in love, war, and gaming."

Oh, I think I know who he is now.  He's in one of my elective classes, he usually sits in the back of the room with his hood up and sometimes takes a nap.  From what I perceived, he wasn't much of a talker, and when he was called on once, he seems pretty smart.  It's just strange to hear him say something, let alone be that aggressive.

He throws the controller down onto his seat in a huff.  "One more race, I'll kill you in this one!"

"You're on!"

I shake my head to myself, continuing to gather more snacks onto a plate.  I guess first appearances really can be deceiving.

"Why, hello there."

The high pitched voice trying to sound deeper is a strange combination, I don't know what I expect to see paired with it.  At first when I turn my head, there's nothing.  Looking down though, is a small boy who doesn't even look like he belongs in college, but rather an elementary school child.  His strangely round purple hair gives me an impression of a mohawk.

I cock an eyebrow.  "Uh, hi?"  How am I supposed to react to this?

He tries to be smooth and lean on the table.  Oh no, I see where this is going.  "I haven't seen you around here before."  

I don't know if I want to laugh at how ridiculous this looks or roll my eyes at me being hit on.  "I'm not part of this friend group."

The little purple guy slides a little closer to me, and I notice him scan me up and down.  The vibe I'm getting from him isn't kind at all.  I almost wish I hadn't worn my outfit, even though the only skin showing is the small amount of stomach peeking through the top of my fishnets and ripped jeans.

"You're about a B, right?" he wiggles his eyebrows.

He better be talking about my GPA or else he'll be tasting my fists.  "I'm sorry?"

"Or a C?"  He taps his chin in thought, eyes trained straight at my chest.

While I'm not the kind of person who would rudely reject someone outright, I don't mind putting a pervert in his place.  I roll my shoulders and put my drink down on the table.  "You-"

Before I can finish, there's a presence next to me who pushes a hand down on the boy's head.  "Hey, loser!  Go be creepy somewhere else, she's taken!"

The smaller boy grows pale and runs off to the other side of the room screaming like a little girl.

The dark hooded figure next to me is definitely intimidating, until I realize it's Bakugou.  His scowl relaxes as he catches my gaze.  "You okay?  He didn't creep you out too much, did he?"

"He did, but I was gonna take care of him," I shrug.

Bakugou removes his hood with a huff.  "You looked uncomfortable, I wanted to help just in case."

I might have lingered over his features and his now-exposed neck just a second too long.  He's much more handsome up close, I hate to admit it.  "Thanks, but I hope you didn't do that just so you can get lucky."

"Please," he rolls his red eyes before smirking and sticking his hands in his pockets, "I have other ways to score, I just haven't tried any of them yet."

I smirk back at him, "Like saying I'm taken?  By you?"

The assumption seems to have wounded him, he snorts, "That's such a dumb trick, I wouldn't resort to something like that."  He nods towards the little grape, "He's much more afraid of being pummeled by your hypothetical boyfriend."

"Guess so," I hum in agreement, refilling my cup.

Bakugou leans back against the wall next to me.  "You're in that literature class on Mondays and Wednesdays, right?"

"Yup."

The little victory seems like a bigger deal to him as a toothy smile spreads across his face.  "I knew it.  You're that kid in the front who always reacts to everything she says, but you don't participate in the discussion."

I pause for a moment, a little taken off guard that he noticed me.  "That doesn't sound like you're a creepy stalker at all.  I only know you as the kid who sometimes sleeps in the back of the room."

His proud gaze is fixed on me.  "It's because I'm in the back of the class and no one notices me that I can observe people very well."

The intensity of his crimson eyes slows my reaction time, but I still manage a chuckle.  "That little guy may be a pervert, but you're the real creep."  I take a chip from the bowl and eat it without breaking eye contact.

Bakugou's gaze flickers down to my nails against the red plastic cup.  "Black nail polish, huh?  I see you're the edgy type."

I scan him up and down, quirking an eyebrow.  "Says the one with a chain hanging off his jeans."

The corner of his lip turns up.  "Touche."

When he reaches out to pick something off my hair, I jump back a bit.  Through our little game of trying to verbally one-up each other, I hadn't realized our close proximity.  His finger had lightly brushed my hairline, a slight tingle blooming on my face.

He smirks.  "You had a speck of dust in your hair, don't be so jumpy."

A breath releases from me, unknowingly being held back.  Something stirs in me as I watch his teasing expression on me.  There's an inexplicable pull between us, I can't deny it.  "Weren't you supposed to be playing with your friends over there?"  I try to pass it off casually.

I don't know if it's intentional, but he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.  "They can have fun without me.  Meeting someone new is more exciting."  Bakugou looks around.  "You wanna get out of here?  It's getting noisy."

Tilting my head, I raise a brow.  "That sounds like you're going to kill me, creepy stalker."

Closing the distance between us, he taunts me, "So what are you gonna do about it?"

We stay there for a while, staring each other down.  A heated chemistry bubbles between us, neither of us wanting to look away.  The faint scent of his cologne dancing across my nose coupled with the hint of teasing mixed with an underlying desire in his eyes mesmerizes me.

The back of his finger brushes my cheek lightly.  "This is the part where you answer, sweetie."  Another calloused hand brushes my waist, sending a jolt of electricity through my body.  "Before this creep manages to kidnap you."

My mind scrambles to find a suitable comeback, failing to formulate words into a coherent thought.  Bakugou's eyes flicker down to my lips as I do his, our faces getting closer to each other.

RIIIIIIIIIINGGGG

Both of us pull away at the blaring fire alarm, looking around wildly through our disorientation.

"Who the hell triggered the fire alarm at this time of night?!" one of the guys screams out.

Ochaco rushes up to us.  "We should probably hurry down with the rest of the building.  Let's go!"

I start following her out of the room, casting a glance backward to see Bakugou and his friend following behind us.

"Guess that means the party's over," Midoriya sighs in front of us.  "It's probably for the best though, we have class early tomorrow."

I'm still dazed as all the students at our get-together mesh with other students in the building, filing down the stairs outside the doors into the brisk night, awakening my senses.

I run my hands up and down my arms to keep warm against the slight chill.  "I should've brought a jacket," I mumble, scanning the sea of students.

"That's another reason you need a boyfriend," Ochaco beams, almost rubbing it in my face that Midoriya gave her his demin jacket.

"Oh, rub it in why don't you?" I groan.  It's not unbearably cold, but the longer we have to stand out here, the more I know I'll feel it.

Cloth wraps around my shoulders carrying a familiar scent.  Bakugou's eyes meet mine with a smug grin.  "You looked cold so I'm giving you my hoodie.  Give it back to me in class."  His warm hands purposely linger and trace down my cold arms before he goes back to his group and I notice he's wearing a slightly fitted black long-sleeve shirt.

Ochaco's whistling snaps my attention back.  Midoriya's eyes widen to the size of golf balls as he stares at me.  He looks scared out of his mind.

My eyes dart between the two of them, the differing reactions flustering me.  "What?"

My roommate wiggles her eyebrows at me.  "I saw you guys talking to each other, but I didn't know you were already this close, (Y/n)."

~

Sequel

[shipmistress9]

2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 21, 23, 48, 57, 65, 68, 87, 88 for random asks 😎😜

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Hmm… I’m actually not much of a chocolate person. I like the taste, cacao in my coffee, for example. But I can’t eat large amounts of pure chocolate, it just makes my mouth feel so dry and weird. But I don’t eat lollipops, either. They take too long, I rarely have that much time to indulge in sweets. What I really like are gummies. 😁

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum for sure.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

I wondered about this question. Do people like… get such evaluations in elementary school? Do teachers tell what they think of the pupils? Because, here, they don’t. 

All I can do is guess. So I assume that they would have described me as… Quiet? Shy? Withdrawn? Smart? Diligent? Helpful? 

But honestly, I have no idea...

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Vocabulary confusion… Soda being sparkly water or lemonade? I don’t really drink water at all. I know that it’s probably entirely psychological, but every time I drink pure water (sparkly or not), my stomach starts protesting. Either way, the answer would be glass cups. Unless it’s coffee or a hot chocolate, for which I have my mugs, I always use glass cups. 

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds. 

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows, mostly. I like how there’s more room to develop character and story arcs, and how the episodes are shorter so I can stop whenever I need to. 

21. obsession from childhood?

Huh… I had many. But overall, the fantastical. Supernatural creatures, mostly dragons. Fantasy stories, stories that pull me out of reality and let me dream of something else. The idea that there’s more to the world, things we can’t see or understand (yet). 

23. strange habits?

Just being me counts as strange, if you ask my kids. 🤣

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

… What kind of questions are these? 🤣🤣🤣 Erm…  Okay, I actually just did THREE tests like “What kind of fruit are you?”. One said raspberry, one cherry, and the third said grape. I don’t feel like either of these options fits, though. A kiwi, maybe? I don’t look like much from the outside, not appealing but rather a little repellent. Once you got past that outer layer, though? I can be all kinds of things. Sweet, sour, juicy, fun, interesting. 

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

My insecurities as a child. Early school life was no fun for me. But at one point, and I remember the exact moment until this day, I decided that I don’t care about how others see me anymore. I do what I enjoy and like and stop trying to fit in. Life became so much better after that. 

The same but in a different situation. I stopped trying to do what my ‘friend’ wanted and took hold of my own happiness. She never cared about my wishes or what made me happy and only treated me like her pet, something only there for her own amusement but only when she wanted it. Letting go of that friendship was hard, but necessary. 

The need to be perfect. I won’t ever be the perfect housewife, won’t ever have a spotless and flawless home, with everything always clinically clean and orderly. I won’t ever be a perfect cook, with new, interesting, nutritious, inexpensive, tasty meals every day. I can’t be ONLY a mother 24/7, but need breaks in-between to be myself. All these expectations before were unrealistic anyway, build by advertisements and movies and society. But it took me a while to learn and accept that. That being myself is good enough. 

65. any permanent scars?

Haha, yes. Stretchmarks from pregnancies and a scar from a c-section. But the funniest is on my arm. It’s just a small white line, 1,5 cm long. 

When I was a teenager, we had a rabbit as pet. He was a little crazy sometimes. One day, he freely hobbled around in our flat. I was lying on the floor and watching TV with the rest of my family. Then, from one second to the other, the rabbit began to roar. Have you ever heard a rabbit ‘roar’? It sounds like… like my stomach when I’m hungry, only less threatening. 🤣 Then he proceeded to charge at me. And bit me in the arm. But because we had a wooden floor at that spot, he lost purchase and slid away, his teeth cutting that line into my arm. It didn’t even hurt or bleed much. It was just so damn funny! Until this day, we have no idea what set him off, before and after, he was absolutely peaceful. 

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Uhm… does marzipan count? To me, that taste is disgusting. *shudders*

87. your greatest fear?

That something happens to my children. 

Aside from that, I hate deep water. I can’t even watch sea life documentaries. 

88. your greatest wish?

Just to live my life without regrets and big drama, to be honest. 😅

--

Thank you 😊💜

[howdoyousleep3]

OMG ok ok lets be real rn!!!! daddy!steve just noticing how bucky keeps secrets from him BUT in actual fact bucky hid the fact he got his nipples pierced from steve bc he was scared steve wouldnt like them!!! cue bucky being insecure asf but then steve has a few secrets of his own,,,,, tbvh i feel like steve would hide the fact he has a few tatts or piercings of his own just bc of his job but he aint shy however worried of how bucky would react to it OK THIS WAS WAYYYYYY TOO LONG BUT ILY!!

HI I have been thinking about this for so long now and I don’t have time to write out an entire fic (😥😥😥) but here are my random ass thoughts ( THIS IS SO LONG I AM SO SORRY):

I think this would all start out because Steve loves playing with Bucky’s nipples, loves how sensitive his sweet boy is, loves to pluck at them with his fingers, loves to use his teeth and his tongue and his lips

Has mentioned in the heat of the moment that “baby we should get these pierced” and Bucky just...can’t stop thinking about it

He can’t stop thinking about Daddy being the only other person to know this little dirty secret of his, that he got his nipples pierced all for Steve, all for Daddy

He can’t stop thinking about the possibilities, of how sensitive he would feel, just the simple brush of a t-shirt against the nubs making him whimper

So he does it one day

He goes with Nat and gets his fucking nipples pierced

Nat hypes him tf up and he knows Steve will love it but he’s so hesitant because he doesn’t have Steve’s permission, doesn’t like keeping things from Daddy

But it’s a surprise, right? A present for Daddy?

Right

It hurts like hell and Bucky thinks a lot about how much he liked how it hurt afterwards but he has these simple cute silver bars with little cute studs and honestly he...he thinks they look great

He’s a little achy and he’s trying to ignore how he’s chubbing up in his pants and he’s trying not to make little noises when his shirt presses and glides against his body

He lays on the couch until Steve comes home, tries to pay attention to the television, tries to not touch himself, tries to distract himself as he scrolls through social media

He’s in the kitchen when Daddy gets home, pulling some grapes out of the fridge, is trying his hardest to act like absolutely nothing is wrong, when Steve’s arms are wrapping tight around his waist, one across his chest, a typical Steve hug

But his forearm rubs hard against Bucky’s chest and therefore his nipples and he bites his lip in an attempt to not cry out but damn that hurt, that is overwhelming

Steve immediately notices something is wrong, makes a questioning soft noise, spins Buck in his arms, “Sugar, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Bucky is quick to recover, tries shaking his head and huffing out a few cheap giggles, avoiding eye contact, “Nothin’ nothin’, quit it”

Steve immediately knows something is amiss, squints his eyes a little bit, tilts Buck’s chin up with the back of is fingers, tries to look at the younger in the eyes and when he avoids it is confirmed--

“You’re not tellin’ me somethin’...”

He pushes Bucky back into the counter, arms caging him in, brings a hand up to clutch hard at Bucky’s chin, kisses his lips softly, forcing eye contact

“Babyyy, you hidin’ somethin’ from Daddy?”

And nonono that isn’t what Bucky is doing, it is meant as a treat, as something to surprise Daddy with

He doesn’t know why he thought he’d get more than a day without Steve noticing something is wrong, didn’t think through how they are intimate in some way every single day

“Daddy, no. No, I...I just wanted to surprise you.”

He sees Steve relax a bit, makes a small cooing noise, kisses him a few times again

“Oh? What’d my sweet boy get for his Daddy? I thought I was the one who is supposed to spoil you?”

Bucky huffs, giggles some when Steve nips and nuzzles at his neck, below his ear, grips his hips tight in both big hands, Bucky feeling himself melt a little like he always does in Daddy’s grip

When he starts to shyly bring his hands down to the hemline of his shirt, Steve looks at him curiously, his eyebrows raising as he steps back a little to watch Bucky’s hands, gives Bucky a little space

Bucky gets to right below his nipples, feels the fabric of the shirt drag against the pointed nubs, stalls a little and looks up at Daddy

Steve’s neck gets flushed, his eyes go dark at the dots connecting in his brain, and he takes over for Bucky, lifts his shirt up, cups it with both hands under his armpits

Steve is quiet for so long in Bucky’s mind, makes him so nervous but he can’t look away from Daddy’s face, can’t look away from the wide array of emotions that play out

Steve’s mouth is open, ready to ask questions, his hand comes up to barely brush a finger across his right nipple, touches the piercing, and Bucky wants to melt through the floor and squeal

“Ohh, sweetheart look at that” is all Steve says real hot and low, a growl of a breath, his fingers brushing and tracing across his chest, around his nipples

Bucky is breathless

“Wanted to...wanted to surprise you. Wanted to keep it a secret but didn’t like the idea...oh god...the idea of keeping something from you.”

Steve purrs, pushes his body in tight against Buckys, hands at his waist, lips at his neck, groans and presses his erection into Bucky’s hip some

“God, the prettiest thing there ever was, that’s what you are, holy shit, baby. Fuck, the things you do to me. So sweet too, not wanting to keep secrets, even with a surprise and a present like this.”

And then Steve is pulling back, tugging Bucky with him, walking him to their room and Bucky has absolutely no idea what is going on but he just wants to come now, is all keyed up as Steve pushes him to sit at the edge of the be

Steve walks over to the dresser, opens the top drawer, “Wanna show you somethin’” is all he says, grabs something, closes the drawer

He sits down next to Bucky and opens his closed fist and...

Is that...?

No

“Is that...? That’s a tongue piercing?”

Steve just nods and Bucky gapes at him, looks down to his mouth and back up to his eyes, back and forth

Bucky can’t think, can’t process. Steve has a tongue piercing? How has he never noticed before? He’s quite acquainted with Steve’s tongue. How had he missed it?

But then--oh GOD, Daddy has his tongue pierced

Steve chuckles, take the bar from his palm, unscrews a ball, opens his mouth, puts the piercing through his tongue, screws the ball back on, and--

“Holy shit, Steve.”

Bucky is hot all over, feels a little shaky with how aroused he is, moves forward to grab at Daddy’s jaw, Steve showing him the piercing, playing with it before chuckling again, grabbing at Bucky and yanking him up and around to sit in his lap

“Got it pierced when I was in college, got lucky and it never really closed up. Just wanted you to know since you said you didn’t like keepin’ things from me. Don’t wanna keep things from you either.”

Bucky barely hears what Steve is saying, is openly staring and gaping at Daddy’s mouth

As he talks this new shiny piercing peeks out, alters Steve’s speech a tad, and...and Bucky needs to touch it

With his mouth

He doesn’t even wait until Steve is done talking, just grips his face in both hands and dives in, immediately going for Daddy’s tongue. Steve expects it, stays still as Bucky moves slowly, stroking his tongue along Steve’s hesitantly, feels the cool bar with the tip of his tongue

Bucky makes a gutted noise, can’t help but roll his hips, dick about to burst out of his pants, and Daddy’s hands on are his back, pulling him in close, groaning alongside the younger

Bucky loves Daddy’s tongue piercing

Loves the way it feels on his lips and tongue, is weak for when Steve slides it in before sucking Bucky off, comes faster than normal when Daddy eats him out with it on

He isn’t even sure if it is the sensation or if it’s just how fucking hot Steve is with that slim piece of metal resting on his tongue

It only comes out every once in a while, when Bucky really wants it, begs Daddy for it

Steve knows it’s coming too because Bucky has spent the day staring at Steve’s mouth, every kiss shared is deep and Bucky chases his tongue, searching for that piercing

He’ll climb into Steve’s lap all whiny, maybe has the courage to because of a glass or two of red wine, tugging at Daddy’s shirt, pouting, asking Daddy to put it back in for him, wanna feel it

Steve will feign consideration, click his tongue and pull Bucky in tight, asking aloud if he think Bucky deserves it, if he’s been a good boy, his own finger coming up to rub at Bucky’s nipple, feeling his own little piercing

Daddy always gives Buck what he wants though

JESUS this was so much fun and ended up being so long I’m so sorry but I hope you enjoy!!! ILY. 😘😘😘